*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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muted
Derek Hale paced around his loft in the early hours of the morning, biting down on his knuckles as his uncle watched him, though the wolf's recent behavior was a little concerning Peter cared more about other things. Like the 117 million dollars that had been stolen from their vault, or a particular undead Argent who had come back to torment them, again. That came above Derek's weird behavior. While he waited for their guest, he chose to read a book, making himself quite a knowledgeable man, though he didn't believe he needed help with that, despite other people's opinions, he was a fountain of wisdom.
A soft knock sounded at the door, the two Hales sharply turned their heads toward it, Peter had jumped up from his seat on Derek's uncomfortable couch, slamming his book shut while Derek finally stopped biting down on his knuckles, hurriedly jogging to answer the door. He swung the door open, expecting someone, but that wasn't the person waiting there with a nervous smile, still unsure what she was doing here. Derek had texted her to come by before school if she could make it, though the lack of answer made him assume that she was busy, here she was, standing at his loft door, waiting to be let in.
Peter's brow furrowed as he threw himself back in his seat, anticipating another guest. "What's the honorary Hale doing here?" He questioned, something that she wanted to know too, Derek didn't provide her with much of an explanation, it barely came with punctuation.
"She has experience with these things." Derek shrugged.
"Which is?" The blonde questioned, sitting herself down on the couch, the opposite side to the father of her best friend of course, it didn't matter if he was half of Malia, he gave her the creeps and frankly, she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.
"Sociopathic women."
Noelle was prepared to argue with that, or at least try to. Derek wasn't exactly wrong, she was in fact experienced in the area of sociopathic women, she had lived with one for fourteen years, the girl might not have known it at the time, but that didn't change the cold hard facts. She missed a chance to argue her case before the door knocked for a second time, startling them all again, the three of them turning eagerly toward the loft door. This was who Peter had been expecting when she had arrived, he wasn't interested in an honorary Hale, as he had called her. He just hoped his nephew hadn't invited any other teenagers into the loft.
The blonde stood up, waiting in anticipation as Derek opened the door again, this time it was an undeniably beautiful woman with the scars of claw marks stretched across her face and neck, it was one of the last people Noelle had expected to see at the Hales' door. She was a mercenary, a woman skilled in killing people, particularly the supernatural, and this loft was filled with them. Braeden wore a charming smile across her face as always as she leaned against the doorframe, it was quite the team in here.
As the four gathered around the coffee table Noelle found herself slotted in between the Hales, a less than pleasing position to be in, but she found herself in it either way. Braeden's boots sat on the table, her arms folded as she waited to hear why the two Hales brought her here, of course, a mercenary who knew what she did had her assumptions, but her business wasn't being psychic. Peter groaned, making a comment about their table that she rested her boots on, the expensive, Italian table he pointed out. Braeden shrugged, her boots were Italian and expensive too. Noelle bowed her head, giggling to herself, she had never seen Peter so taken back by someone.
