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NEYTIRI HALE
IT STARTED AT A HIGH SCHOOL PARTY.
Everything she ever knew went to shit at a dumb, high school party.
Well, technically it began with a group text message from Allison Argent and Lydia Martin. Neytiri wasn't close to the two despite having a deep and complicated shared history with them. Allison came from a family of, to put it nicely, sociopathic werewolf hunters while Lydia on the other hand was a banshee, the wailing woman, a harbinger of death.
And that was the thing about Beacon Hills, Everybody was something and those somethings made the whole of a deadly town that ran rampant with supernatural creatures. Composed of werewolves mostly, but other entities found themselves making a home of this place. Take a kanima, for example— a lizard like creature with a venom that almost instantaneously leaves its victim in a paralytic state. Let's not forget about the alpha beast that could put Brad Stoker's monsters to shame with its towering 7ft wolf man frame.
Or herself, the Daughter of Persephone.
Her sisters were legion and spread out across every corner of the globe. Originating from around 700 BCE, the cult had been formed after Persephone took her oath to Hades, only ever having the intention of keeping the bloodline of Persephone pure. Some would say they were demigods for that matter. But all of that changed when Persephone fell in love with his three headed puppy, and orders were sent for these aspiring young women to protect the children of Lycaon, or the werewolf for short.
Upon getting their first period, these girls were carefully selected by werewolf packs for their skills and personality traits. When chosen they bore the unique symbolism of their newfound family, and from then on they became specialized emissaries to them.
This prompts Neytiri to stare down at the thick black ink drawn into a basic spiral branded on her chest, right above her heart. A frown appears on her carefully lined and freshly glossed lips. She always hated the Hale family tattoo, complaining that it lacked creativity and honestly a feminine touch.
Her phone buzzes again, and Neytiri pulls her eyes away from her bra clad chest to her phone that rest of the surface of her vanity mirror. There's another message in the newly formed group chat between the three girls, coming from Lydia once again extended her invitation to some random girls 17th birthday party. Neytiri had been contemplating her decision on going, as two important factors weighed heavy on her mind.
Her guardian was Derek Hale, one of the last surviving members of the Hale pack. Their deaths were at the hands of a ravenous group of hunters, setting the old Hale house ablaze many years ago. Derek was supposedly the only one who made it out. And the hunters who started that fire?
