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Both figuratively and literally, it is a task to occupy the generations. And no matter how much progress one makes, there is always the thrill of just beginning. We are all connected; To each other, biologically. To the earth, chemically. To the rest of the universe atomically.
00/00 Both figuratively and literally, it is a task to occupy the generations. And no matter how much progress one makes, there is always the thrill of just beginning. We are all connected; To each other, biologically. To the earth, chemically. To the rest of the universe atomically.
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[OS] I am so Gone, So Tell Me The Way Home.
PERMALINK // POSTED ON: Jun 3 2014, 05:23 PM
Stiles knew he was in the back of a van, he knew he wasn’t the only one in the van, and he knew that was a ninety percent chance that he wasn’t going to leave the back of the van alive. The reason that thought came across his mind was because he was currently so chalk full of silver and wolfsbane that he couldn’t even see right. His vision was blurry as he tried to push him up off the floor of the van, but was only greeted with failure as his body gave out on him. His body shaking as he looked for a way out only to be greeted with a kick to his already injured ribs. He remembered how he got there. He knew how it happened, but his brain wasn’t working right, he couldn’t think, he could only feel.
It had been a normal day, he spent his time with his fiancé, their day lazing around at home. Watching movies, playing with their five kittens and laying around doing nothing but being with each other. He had left the house once that day , kissing Lydia quickly and promising to come back with food for them both. Other people had other plans.
They had started by shooting out the tires of his Jeep. Not enough that he would crash or his car would roll, but enough that he had to stop driving. Which he promptly ditched the jeep , and started to run as fast as he could into the woods, because Stiles knew that if he stayed in the Jeep he was a sitting duck. So he had ran as fast as he could through the woods, praying he could lose them.
His prayers were not answered , because a moment later he felt some pierce through his right leg, sending him tumbling through dirt and leaves till hitting a tree with a loud crack as his head hit. With clenched teeth and gasping breath he looked down to see the arrow sticking out of his right calf. He could tell by the burning this was no normal arrow, it was silver. Which meant that this wasn’t an accident, it had been on purpose. They had been hunting him. He was their prey and they hand brought him down.
He pulled himself up enough till he could crawl putting the tree between himself and the enemy, they wanted to get to him they would now have to flank on either side of him, meaning he hand only a couple of minutes to find a way to get away. He looked down at his leg, before grasping the hilt of it , tugging at it experimentally. He clenched his teeth harder as the arrow gave no intent to be removed from his calf. He would either have to leave the arrowhead in and break the shaft or push the arrow all the way through his leg, which could lead to more damage than good. So Holding his leg down with one hand and holding the shaft with another he pushed hard snapping the shaft off.
After that he moved to his feet as quickly as possible before running, granted at a much slower pace than before. The silver arrow head in his leg caused his whole leg to feel as if someone was burning him from the inside out. He didn’t have to worry about that for long though because soon he could feel another arrow his shoulder, and then another in his side. He couldn’t run any more, not with the arrow lodged in his side, which is what they wanted. He moved backwards till his back hit a tree, prepared to do what he had to , in order to keep alive.
He could smell them , could smell their excitement, their fear, their anger. Hey could tell they were locals, and that they were human. Hunters of some kind. And it brought back the thought that with all the rules in the city, all the protections put on people , there was none to protect supernatural against humans. Which is why these people would never be prosecuted, because no one cared.
Stiles watched as they came closer, one reaching out to grab him, but he reached out and grabbed his wrist, snapping it with an ease that only came with supernatural strength. He didn’t have time though to take the one coming at his other side, with a knife, slicing across rib, making him gasp and remove his hand from the other hunter’s wrist.
They took the chance to push him to the ground causing him to cry out in pain as his hurt leg hit the ground. He felt a kick in his injured rib , and then another, and another, effectively breaking some of the bones there. The one with now broken wrist glared down at him in hatred before moving and kicking his boot against Stiles face, the teenager letting out a short noise of pain as he felt something snap. The beating when on a little while longer while the silver still burned his leg and shoulder. Until it stopped leaving Stiles spitting blood out of his mouth and his body covered in scratches and bruises.
He could hear them whispering , laughing around him, as one leaned down with a needle and inserted it into his shoulder, a liquid being forced into his body. It took a few seconds for Stiles to notice anything different, but when the feeling did come, the noises that came out of his mouth were almost inhuman in the pain. It was as if his whole body was on fire, weakened, burning, being torn apart by the inside out. A wolfsbane mixture that would leave him in such a weaken state he wouldn’t heal or fight back.
That’s how he ended up in the van, knowing where he was but unable to do anything but make noises of pain. He didn’t know where they were taking him , but he imagined somewhere public, it was never fun not showing off your kill. With every bump and turn that the van made his body was engulfed with more pain. He didn’t have a way out, Stiles Stilinski didn’t have a plan.
And then they stopped. Everything stopped. A man was grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up making sure Stiles could look at him. He could hear the murmured whisper of the guy telling him to tell the others hello. And then before letting him go, the man took his silver knife once more and slide it cleanly in the left side of Stiles chest, closest to the heart he could get without touching it. Then just as quickly opened the van door and pushed the teenager out to land on the hard concrete outside the hospital.
He could feel the blood pooling out of him and into the concrete, heard the scream of a nurse as the came out for a smoking break before rushing in for help. He could feel everything, except for the one thing he wanted. He wanted to feel alive, but he could only feel death. Doctors and nurses scrambled trying to stop whatever was wrong with him but Stiles couldn’t think, he couldn’t even breathe now, it hurt too much to try. And in the back of his mind he heard a loud pitched scream, supernatural, calling for him, begging for him. His Mates Scream. And he opened his mouth to reply to let her know he heard, but instead only coughed blood. There was just too much damage, he was too broken. And he was fading…slipping into the darkness he never wished to see. Stiles Stilinski used to feel the pain, and then in a matter of minutes, felt nothing as his heart stopped beating, with only an echo of a scream in his mind, and a whispering of words in his ears.
And then he was gasping for air once more, choking on it was more like the word. The electrical charge of the paddles still pulsing through his body. He tried to move, tried to see, but he couldn’t a mask to his face and hands already moving him onto a hospital gurney. And the one thought before he passed out, was of his Fiancé praying she would be there when he woke up. If he woke up.
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