𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗬-𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 ♡

♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 seventy-four

anti-hero.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DALLAS GARCIA sat swung back and forth on Stiles' computer chair,  pulling the sleeves of her lavender jumped pulled tightly over her knuckles and tapping her silver heart-shaped rings against the wooden desk as she listened to both the boys bicker.  

"He's a what?" 

"Hybrid, Scott." Stiles waved exasperatedly with his hands. "Half-this half-that kinda hybrid."

"So.. like.. Theo Hybrid?" Scott blinked confusedly while the maneater stared blankly at the boys before her. It was as if the two shared a braincell, frequently passing it between eachother in order to mutter out a simple sentence. 

"No, Scott, not Theo Hybrid." Stiles huffed. "Hybrid Hybrid. You know? Hybrid-y." 

The werewolf shook his head. "No, I don't know because Hybrid-y isn't even a word!"

Contuining to bicker, Stiles narrowed his eyes first. "There's serial killers in town and you're slating me for malapropism?"

Pausing momentarily, Scott copied. "What the hell is malapropism?"

"Looks like someone obviously does not know the english language as well as he pretends he does." The Stilinski hummed smugly before wincing at the glares that potruded through his head from the werewolf infront of him. 

Meanwhile, Dallas watched the two converse back and forth like a disastrous ping pong ball match. It made her dizzy. Each quip of her head made her feel like her brain was sliding around her skill, begging to escape rather than listen to either of them for any longer. 

 If her fate resided in the hands of the boys before her, it would seem her chances of survival had reduced from slim to none. So, instead she swallowed her pride and interjected with the worst line possible. 

"He has a cure." She spoke loudly over their voices until they dimmed. 

Scott turned to her with wide eyes. "A cure for what?"

Her eyes climbed up his figure before settling at his iris. "For whatever it is that makes us.. like this." She chewed on her bottom lip. "He told me he'd give it to me... for the fork."

There was a growing silence that clung to their skin like toxic mold. Each breath oxidized their lungs and poisoned the flow of air from within. Dallas couldn't understand exactly why but the more she spoke, the guiltier she felt. 

"And?"

The Siren fiddled with her heart-shaped rings once more. "I told him no."

Scott didn't seem to understand it. Dallas had complained about being a Siren from day one. From the insatiable hunger, to the painful transformations, to thoughts she didn't want to hear echoing loudly in her ears - it seemed blasphemous she'd want to choose a life like that.