*WAS CRUEL SUMMER*
"The pain of it slashed through my body in nauseating waves before settling heavily in the pit of my belly. I tried to hold it together, to hold it down, but I couldn't."
{ scott mccall x fem!oc }
{ season three - six }
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silverfinger
Their arms were wrapped around them like a blanket, shielding them from the first of many cold November mornings, luminescent paint smeared across their clothes and faces, reminding them of what fun they'd managed to have before the next problem had rolled into their lives. Between the five teenagers, each of them were trying to process the attack that had been sprung on them by Beacon Hills' latest enemies; five hooded warriors who bore swords sharper than even Allison and her father's collection had to offer.
Not only had three of the teenagers lost their jackets to the clamoring people desperate to leave Derek's loft but for Noelle, the latest victim to the five hooded figures, there was a cold chill that couldn't be shifted. Ever since they had touched her, she was left cold, it didn't matter how tight her arms were wrapped around her, she was freezing cold, violated by their touch. Not only were there five hooded figures to comprehend but what had happened between her and Scott, there hadn't been a word spoken between them since. Frankly, he hadn't had a chance to speak to her while she kept as far from him as possible, even going as far to stand on the opposite side of the elevator. And she wasn't the only one attempting to avoid another. Allison stood beside her, she too avoiding one of the males, the blonde's big brother, to be precise.
There had been a moment shared between them on the dance floor, a second away from taking that next step that Noelle and Scott had accidentally taken with one another if it hadn't been for the mark she had felt behind Cole's ear, the two of them would find themselves asking the same questions that Scott and Noelle were asking themselves. Where they stood now, complicating an already extremely complicated situation.
For now, all four of them planned on delaying the conversation that was needed between them, until they got some answers about the hooded warriors, it could wait. Argent had been given his twenty-four hours to gather his answers, to ensure he had his facts right before inciting any fear, but it was too late for that now, more people had seen the figures, another four people had that mark left on their skin. Leaving even more people craving answers.
It just so happened that the one person who could provide them with a sense of relief and those answers hadn't answered their calls.
"I don't get it," Allison mumbled, breaking her silence as she looked down at her phone, another unanswered call, another answering machine message from her father. She anxiously bounced up and down as she eagerly watched the small arrow of the elevator travel up each floor, maybe it was her nerves talking, but it seemed to be taking longer than usual. It felt like hours had gone by since the five of them had left the loft, hours since she had first called her father. "He always answers his calls. Always. We should have heard something by now."
The more she spoke, the more nervous she become, listing all of the possibilities of what could have happened in her head, none of them were simple everyday reasons for people not replying to calls and texts from their daughter like sleeping in or their phone being on silent, but neither she nor her father lived simple everyday lives.
