𝟐𝟗 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

✯☾✯

1998

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒌, 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 agreement, blotting out the moon and stars, shrouding the world in inky black.

The air was heavy with anticipation, as the distant rumble of thunder grew steadily closer, like a heartbeat echoing through the atmosphere.

Rain drew in from the west, a cacophony of drumming and splattering as the teardrops poured down in torrents.

Bright, misshapen bolts lacerated the ominous sky, lighting up the world for just a split second before plunging it back into everlasting darkness.

A small shack stood uncertainly on a hill, withstanding the storm's fury. The howling wind rattled windows and doors, as if trying to gain entry into the safety of the sheltered space.

Inside, the atmosphere was haunting. The glow of candles and occasional flickers of power outages casted eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the strange ambiance of the night.

The shack's roof was patchy and uncared for, and the rainwater seeped through the cracks, forming puddles on the uneven wooden floorboards.

Puddles formed into streams that dipped in and out of the crevices, tangling with a second substance. A substance of crimson colour bright enough to be visible in the dim light.

A body.

A body lifeless but still alive.

The woman's face was pale, her clothes soaked and torn. A deep gash settled along her chest oozing blood, staining the floor beneath her. She clutched her wound, grimacing with pain as each raindrop seemed to accentuate her agony. Her breathing was laboured, the blood loss edging her body to shut down.

Warm, auburn hair contrasted with the full tones of the decor. It was matted and greasy, sprawled around the woman's unsupported head.

This was where she lay to rest.

Her gaze wandered around the bare room, her eyes reflecting a mix of pain and resignation. Memories of better times, perhaps, or the burden of her many sins and the lives she ruined.

Her impending death came as no shock to her, she had it coming.

Yet, what she had not expected was the brutal and coldness behind the woman she loved's eyes as she struck her with her knife.

In Catalina Ignis' mind, her moral compass was in perfect condition, her conscience was clean and she had done nothing wrong.

But, for, Amelia Brown, Catalina had ruined her life. She'd been stripped of her light, her joy, her happiness. Her life had been controlled by the paranoia and nausea that came from whenever she had thought of the dying woman.

A tether had snapped and Amelia had picked up the remains of her shattered life and used them to fuel her fire.

The storm raged on and the shack provided limited protection for Catalina and a second figure.

The second figure had a youthful face and the ember like hair to match Catalina.

She was crouched over the woman like she had been since the fatal wound had accumulated.

Her tears were like rivers, meandering streaks across her pale cheeks and staining them with grief. They traced engraved paths across her cheekbones, leaving a trail of emotions.

Time passed, just enough for Catalina to slip away and just enough to leave the poor girl all alone.

The weight of her sadness began to morph into something else, an all consuming desire for retribution that would eat her from the inside out. The pain she felt turned into seething anger, and the injustice she perceived set alight a growing need for vengeance. She wanted to lash out at the world that has wronged her, to make those responsible suffer just as she had.

And she always got what she wanted.

When someone dies, everything becomes past tense. Except the grief. Grief stays in the present. And grief is a very powerful emotion.

✯☾✯

2013

Accurate vision was practically non existent at Beacon Hill's roller rink. Flourescent, and blinding might I add, lights descended in beams, hitting the smooth surface of the rink in different, fun shapes.

The music was loud. Like loud loud. It seemed that whoever was working the speakers' one true desire was to play 'TLC' at such a volume skaters could feel the beats pulsate throughout their bodies.

It was early evening on a friday which meant half the world and their mother had turned up. But, tucked away from the bustling crowd of soda-intoxicated people, next to the slushie machines, were two boys who had grown quiet impatient.

Seven o'clock. That was the exact time they'd told Lizzie Brown to be there and it was safe to say time had progressed since then and there had been no sign of the bubbly brunette. Still, they knew this was coming.

Stiles surveyed the sea of bright colours, broadly searching for his and Scott's small friend and her abnormally tall boyfriend.

He swore his legs were getting cramp and he actually might collapse if he had to wait any-

"Holy shit! Cotton candy!"

Aha!

Scott and Stiles were immediately alerted of the high-pitched voice they knew so well and were then easily able to pick out the navy pinafore dress and battered black converse of Lizzie Brown and the black sweatshirt and denim parachute jeans of Isaac Lahey.

There was struggle.

Isaac had secured his arms around Lizzie's waist in an effort to pull her away from the cotton candy stall.

Lizzie was not allowed cotton candy.

After a few seconds, the pixie stopped her attempted voyage to get to sugar and fell still. Isaac grinned triumphantly and turned his girlfriend round in his arms and placing an apologetic kiss on her nose.

Scott was quick to call the couple over and they pushed their way through the moving crowd until they were stood in front of Lizzie's best friends.

Stiles grimaced the second Isaac graced his presence.

"I still don't understand why he had to come," he complained. Stiles and Isaac didn't hate each other, per say. They just didn't get along and if there was ever the opportunity to push the other into a body of water, that was an action that would surely be carried out.

Lizzie scrunched her nose up. She could technically see where Stiles was coming from, in the summer Isaac and Lizzie had been dating, they had been attached at the hip. Maybe it was because they were making up for lost time or maybe they just couldn't be apart for more than five minutes.

All that said, hypocrisy was real.

A fifth teen joined the group in Prada heels and a bright pink mini skirt.

"Lizzie!"

Lydia Martin had seen the pixie just yesterday but still hugged her as tight as she possibly could.

When the girls pulled away, Lizzie stood beaming as she clapped her hands together, "I love hugs!"

Shaking his head, Stiles sighed, eager to move on before Lizzie decided to act upon her established love for hugs, "That's great, L. Who wants to skate?"

A collective mumble of agreement echoed throughout the group.

Whilst the boys made made their way to the reception desk to hire their skates, Lizzie and Lydia found themselves in the locker rooms. Hiring skates were expensive, so, Lydia had taken the liberty of bringing Lizzie a pair of her old ones as well as her own.

It took Lizzie some time to figure out how to put said footwear on but she was getting there with Lydia's help.

The pixie glanced down through her dainty lashes at her admiringly, "You're all glittery."

Lydia looked up from securing Lizzie's skates at the comment, a confused line drawn across her brow, "Huh?"

"You're eyelids," Lizzie pointed out, grinning, "they're all pink and glittery."

Chuckling as she caught on, Lydia batted her coloured lids to show them off, "You like?"

"Definitely!" Lizzie exclaimed happily. Lydia shook her head, gently patting Lizzie's ankles to signal that they were good to go.

Both girls clung tightly to each other as they struggled to stand, the spherical balls under their soles proving simple tasks difficult.

The wobbled along, arms linked, giggling and trying to stable their balance.

"I'm so gonna fall!"

"I'll catch you, don't worry, Lyds."

"Uh, need some help?"

Stiles' voice startled the two girls out of their fit of shrieks and guffaws. Behind him, Isaac and Scott also struggling to stay verticale.

There was a violently awkward moment in which the group processed Stiles' obvious attempt to take up the opportunity of getting closer to Lydia.

Of course Lizzie had no idea what an awkward moment was, so,was obliviously the first to break the silence.

"My feet are sweating."

"Thank god!" Isaac sighed, thankful for the disappearance of tension.

Stiles, now sheepish, shook himself off as a way to gaslight himself into thinking that that didn't happen.

"We should probably-uh- get on the rink."

Lydia jumped at the opportunity, gracefully gliding across with not so much as a stumble.

Next to brave the rink was a sheepish Stiles who dragged Lizzie with him, the pair as steady as the other.

They skated around for a while, bracing themselves against each other until they got the hang of it and then chaos exploded.

Stiles plowed through an alerting amount of small children and rolled over someone's fingers. Lizzie's face had most likely connected with every part of the circular barrier and she'd spent more time on the floor than up right.

But, they were having fun. Laughing at each other, singing along to the songs playing.

After a while, Scott joined them and everything fell into place in terms of their little friendship.

"I don't think you understand who you're messing with, Stiles," Scott taunted the boy as he'd just challenged him to a race.

"So cocky for someone who's about to get destroyed," Stiles snapped back playfully.

Scott raised his eyebrows, beginning to lay out the conditions, "Three laps, the loser has to buy-"

SMACK!

A muffled groan followed the concerning sound of impact.

"Lizzie, you need to be careful," Scott scolded sternly, "You'll break something."

Sure enough, the pixie slowly turned with her hand cupped around her nose to hide the small streak of blood dribbling from her nostril.

"Idiot!" Stiles winced as he and Scott approached the girl who still grinned like there was no tomorrow.

The boys worked together, both in the parental mindset, to sort Lizzie out.

Stiles held her smaller head still with strong fingers whilst Scott used the sleeve of his cotton jersey to wipe away the blood.

"Is it broken? We don't need to take her to the hospital do we?" Stiles inquired worriedly, the use of the pronoun 'we' completely natural now. Lizzie's troubles were their troubles and vice versa.

Scott observed the injury and shook his head, "She should be okay, we just need to try and keep her from colliding with anymore solid objects."

Lizzie reached up and patted her nose quizzically, "Is it bent funny?"

"Yeah, it's completely deformed," Stiles teased, forgetting the girl's incapacity to process sarcasm.

"Holy shit! I'm gonna tell people i play football and i got in a really, really, really bad tackle on the touch line." Lizzie chirruped happily, her eyes unfocusing as she day dreamed.

Before Stiles got a chance to crush Lizzie's hopes, Isaac, who'd just come from the arcade, presumably kicking little kid's asses, drew in on the trio.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded, spotting the stain of red under Lizzie's nose.

"I got in a really, really, really bad tackl-"

"She skated into the barrier face first...again." Stiles cut the girl off and ignored her look of disappointment.

Isaac glanced at his girlfriend in amusement, "A really bad tackle, huh?"

Lizzie's gaze flew to the ground, "Yes..."

A light chuckle slipped through Isaac's lips at Lizzie's murmurs.

"Come on," he held his hand out for the girl to take, and she did gladly.

Lizzie seemed to cheer up, waving enthusiastically at Scott and Stiles as Isaac led her around the rink.

A beat kicked in as the song switched, probably something from the eighties but neither Lizzie or Isaac noticed.

Isaac twirled the pixie around as they lapped the large rink, smiling from ear to ear.

Their little group had hung out constantly over the summer, all five of them. Well, they were missing Allison seeing as the Argent girl had spent the holidays in Paris and out of all signal range.

It was nice. They could pretend to be normal teenagers. Supernatural, who?

They'd have to cherish these moments though because Beacon Hill's had proved it hadn't taken a liking to the McCall pack and it had lots more in store for them.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
ig this is sort of like an introduction to season three like the calm before the storm.

the first half will be confusing i get that but it'll all make sense eventually

thank you for reading!!!!

soph