Stand Still // [tw/spn/sh/twl]

Chapter 36

VATICAN CITY, SATURDAY, 5:15 A.M.

It was quiet when Stiles arrived at his destination, which was expected since it was very early. However, there were a few townspeople wandering around as they set up communal markets and vendor stands.

The spark's presence gained the attention of a few bystanders, who observed him curiously, acknowledging that he wasn't from the city. The town was small. It didn't have a big population. Everyone knew everyone, and they weren't familiar with Stiles.

A curious woman invaded Stiles' space. She examined the spark closely while circling around him, occasionally touching him as if he was a precious gem.

"Chi sei e perché sei qui?" the woman said.

The way her voice rose an octave at the end of her phrase told Stiles she was asking a question.  However, he had no idea what she was saying. He did know she was speaking Italian though. Vatican City was in Rome, Italy after all.

"Uh..." Stiles trailed off, only thinking of one thing to say, "Mirabel?"

The woman leaned back, her eyes growing wide. She whipped around, booming out, "Mirabel!" which caused the other townspeople around to scurry.

They muttered the name "Mirabel" as if it was a good omen while they scampered in search of seemingly nothing.

"Mirabel," the woman stated, waving her hand. "Venire. Venire."

The woman grabbed Stiles' arm and began to drag him. The spark assumed she was taking him to this Mirabel person, so he didn't object.

As she pulled him along, more and more lights began to illuminate the quiet town as those who were asleep slowly began to wake up from the commotion.

They soon arrived at a narrow alleyway that was barely big enough for them to slip through at the same time. At the end was a door from which brown paint was chipping off of to reveal the ancient wood underneath.

The woman spared Stiles one last curious glance before walking away without another word, leaving the spark alone to fend for himself.

'I guess I just knock?..." Stiles thought to himself, unsure of his own actions as he knocked on the door. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door before it flew open to reveal a woman.

She was older than the female who led Stiles to her door, yet she still seemed to be in good shape. She was short yet held her head high. Her eyes were stormy gray, and her skin was olive with a few wrinkles here and there from age. Her hair was straight and black with developing gray roots, and it reached her nape.

"Can I help you?" she asked, tilting her head ever-so-slightly to the side.

Not knowing how to word the reason for his arrival, Stiles pulled out the slip of paper his grandfather left him and handed it over.

The woman took the note, skimmed it, and then looked back up at the boy. A tired sigh slipped past her lips before she stepped aside and beckoned the spark to enter. Stiles scanned his surroundings one final time before stepping inside.

The home was small yet cozy. There was a couch pressed against the far wall and a few chair scattered in various places. There was a small kitchen space with a fridge, microwave, and stove. There was a tiny dining table on a large, ornate rug, which covered most of the ground. What wasn't covered was a polished oak wood floor. Dream catchers and various colored lights decorated every wall.
There was a door beside the stove. He supposed it was either a closet or another room.

"I take it you are Mirabel then," Stiles stated as he examined the residence further.

"Yes, and you're the grandson of Gajos," Mirabel replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. She tossed the note on the dining table and headed to the kitchen, her back turned toward Stiles as she opened the fridge.

"Sit," she ordered.

Stiles found the nearest empty seat, which was one of the four chairs surrounding the dining table. He watched as Mirabel pulled out a pitcher from the fridge before grabbing a cup from one of the cabinets above her head. She poured a drink before putting the pitcher back in the fridge and walking over to the spark.

Mirabel set the glass in front of Stiles, saying, "drink. A journey to a place like this is draining." The spark eyed the glass.

The liquid was a dark purple color and slightly translucent. It glistened beneath the off white lights above the table. He couldn't guess what if was, but he didn't think it was anything lethal. Mirabel didn't have a reason to kill him. If anything, his identity was more of a reason to keep him alive.

Stiles grabbed the cup and took a small sip of the drink. Pleasure immediately greeted his tongue. The liquid was sweat and tasted like grapes and peach, an odd but enjoyable flavor.

"What is this?" Stiles asked before taking another savory sip.

"Quial," Mirabel answered, adding a foreign accent to the word. "It's a spark drink. It stimulates a spark's abilities, keeps them at bay when the person is experiencing an immense amount of an emotion such as exhaustion. It will make you feel better if you didn't already."

"If it makes you feel better, I already have control of my abilities," Stiles explained, "expect my magic, which is why I'm here."

"I know that," Mirabel stated with a roll of her eyes. "Gajos wouldn't send you to a imbecile. The only reason you'd come is for training."

"So train me," Stiles said while setting his now half-empty drink back on the table. "Clearly, there's not much else to do around here, and I need to learn as quickly as possible."

"Magic is not like flipping a coin," Mirabel began. "You cannot learn it in minutes."

"I learned how to control a dozen powers in less than a month," Stiles replied. "With a proper teacher, I'm sure I can learn to control my magic in a reasonable amount of time."

"Your reasonable is not the same as my reasonable," Mirabel argued. "Gajos took three years to completely master ever aspect of his magic, including his spell book, which I'm assuming he left for you. That's a reasonable amount of time. If you're hoping to do the same any quicker, you can take your ambitions elsewhere."

"I'm a target," Stiles responded with a crooked smirk. "Everyone who knows of my existence in hunting me. If they were to find out I'm here, they'd come for me, which means coming for you. Would you really want your only ally to be a spark who doesn't know magic?"

Mirabel narrowed her eyes, gritting out, "are you threatening me, Mieczyslaw?"

Stiles leaned forward, resting his arms on the surface of the table as he said, "are you worried about it, Mirabel?"

The woman remained silent as she leaned back in her seat. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled shortly through her mouth before grinning.

"Your grandfather was right. You turned out to be some spitfire," Mirabel stated as she stood. "You can sleep on the couch. It's a pullout. The room upstairs is mine, but everything else is free range."

Stiles quirked a brow as Mirabel walked over to the door leading outside and grabbed a thin jacket off the coatrack against the wall.

"I need some groceries. We can grab breakfast on the way, and I may as well show you around town. You'll clearly be here for some time," she continued. "Let's go. The quicker we get back, the quicker your training begins."

As Mirabel opened the door and stepped outside, Stiles jumped up from his seat and tossed his bag on the couch before rushing to catch up with the woman.

[EDITED]