(NO TRANSLATIONS) Stiles yelps and shakes his hand. The ash stays where it is. Well, no, it moves across his palm! Stiles wipes at it with his other hand, forgoing the whole getting-it-in-the-bottle thing and sticking to the get-it-off-me thing. Only the ash doesnt get off. Stiles watches with growing horror as the ash moved up his palm to his wrist, and the burning gets worse. "Ow," he breathes, wincing and staring. The ash moves on its own, growing a shape at the inside of his wrist. Three spirals, one on top and two on the bottom. "What the fuck, what the fuck, ow!"