❝ WOULD YOU TRUST ME WHEN YOU'RE JUMPING FROM THE HEIGHTS? WOULD YOU FALL, IN THE NAME OF LOVE? ❞
〔 teen wolf - season 3 〕
〔 original characters × multi 〕
When Oscar was 11 years old, his mother sat him down and told him what she'd told his brother when he was 11 years old, and what her own mother had told her at the same age. Strangely enough, explaining the supernatural to her second child came to Sophie almost as natural as teaching him how to hang stockings above the chimney on Christmas Eve. Oscar had listened to her with an expressionless face — not the slightest bit of surprise, fear, mockery, anything other than that blank canvas she could try and imagine any color on, but never quite make it materialize.
Her first thought was that somehow (but how?!), he had known. She shrugged away that thought in its foolishness; he couldn't have known, he couldn't have figured it out. Her older son, Richard, laughed — it wasn't a happy laugh, nor born out of mockery; it was a laugh sister with madness. The word got stuck in her mind, on her lips, and she could sometimes still hear that cracking sound his neck made when throwing his head back. It nearly felt as if the Earth had opened and instead of running for his life, Richard had jumped right in the flames.
Oscar was different, though. His eyes hid a sadness, the kind that you'd see only when he would let you look beneath the surface. As a mother, Sophie counted that sadness as her own failure. She had a duty to both her sons, to shield them with her own body, die for them if needed. And so, coming to Beacon Hills was the best and the worst choice she'd ever made as a mother.
Richard, in his impulsive and risk taking nature (and as a former marine), found his way through the town's general madness and became a sheriff deputy. And the next thing Sophie knew, she and Oscar were settling in their new home, in a town that was a beacon in the word's real sense, a beacon for the very things she'd been taught to despise and fight against, and the very things that made her lose sight in the left eye.
And the worst thing of all was the fact that moving here, in the center of all craziness and paranormal, deepened the frown on Oscar's face. Richard's more than foolish action of establishing in the heart of chaos was bugging him, Sophie didn't have to be a genius to realize that. Perhaps it was the usual rivalry between brothers, and the fact that Richard was nearly ten years older surely didn't help. Neither did the fact that they were a British family in California.
And while Sophie might have been on the wrong side of forty, her training was nearly as good as it used to be, which still meant slightly better than both her sons'. And she may or may not had lectured Oscar on all the ways one could stab another person with the (laced with wolfsbane) pocket knife he had to carry around at school.
*:･ﾟ ✧
On his first day of school at the Beacon Hills High, Oscar had heard things. Things like normal students would normally speak about a new student, but also something scarier, something that triggered his urge to grip the handle of his small knife. He did so without realizing, like it happened most of the time after the... thing. It didn't quite help soothe the anger, anxiety and/or fear, but he admitted that it had some benefits, one of which making him feel safer. Why did his idiot of a brother have to choose this town? Was it easier for him to climb up the hierarchy if he took the path made out of dead bodies? Why would any sane person ever want to come here?
But then, there was more.
Richard Delaney was as mad as a hatter, in more ways than one. If you were to put him in a category, you could say he was the type of person who'd burn down his house and then build it up again — and then probably burn it down a second time, just to show that he can. But perhaps there was a good part in that, for not many people could find themselves that close to the sheriff on a daily basis (of course, unless we were to talk of a murder suspect). This thought popped up in his mind when he recognized the sheriff's son as the guy who talked too much and may or may not have given an overly dramatic speech reeking of hints about the supernatural to his friend.
"Another one? Why do we have to give in to that cliché? Not all new students are... you know. Things."
"I don't know, it's just a... feeling."
That last word was mostly left in the air, for the two and for Oscar, who had caught on their words by chance and without actually meaning to do so. Although, listening to a private conversation had a certain appeal to it; a feeling of power, if one is bold enough to call it that. Oscar settled on keeping an eye on the two friends from now on. And if they indeed were... things, having pairs of perfectly healthy eyes wouldn't matter — they wouldn't see what hit them.
Perhaps it wasn't enough to say that Oscar had his suspicions about those two. Especially when a certain raven haired girl made her way to them — Allison Argent. He had recognized her from one of the photos in his mother's secret (not so secret after all) box from her hideout in the garage. To be completely frank, he wouldn't have seen it if they wouldn't have had to pack everything they had and move.
Inside, he discovered some pictures with Sophie in her younger years, probably not a lot older than himself; his heart was pounding, though he couldn't quite tell why. Aside from his mother's young face, the pictures only showed strangers — as if she had led a completely different life before them. Which was perfectly normal, yet he couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness that punctured his insides.
All of the photos were black and white, except one — a girl with a wide smile and dimpled cheeks (the one he had recognized in school, only she was a little younger in the photo) and a man, probably her father. He didn't pay it much attention at the moment, it could have been anyone from Sophie's past, and yet the name and the date written on the verso remained stuck in his head — Argent, April 16th.
April 16th was his brother's birthday. And now, the Argent girl was smiling her dimpled smile, likely as clueless as him. Though if there was one thing he was sure of, he wasn't going to remain clueless for much longer. Because under his apparent softness, there was a soul almost as wicked as Richard's.
Almost.
*:･ﾟ ✧
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OSCAR DELANEY *:･ﾟ ✧
— "look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it."
