#twoae

[kingofangst]

The Wings Of An Enigmatic

HELLO MY WONDERFUL SUBJECTS READERS!!! I am extremely sorry for the delay of this story, but life has had me on a grip and I have been going through ups and downs recently, as well as utilizing my career more. But pas d'inquietude! I have returned. (Plus I am learning French before I plan to go to Paris). Here is Chapter 5 of the The Wings Of An Enigmatic and this is the longest chapter I have written so far for this season. Expect some surprises.

Notification tags: @rhyslahey, @thiamsxbitch, @unsanedes, @mmoosen, @phantomraeken, @isaac-not-isaac

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Chapter 5: Mistakes Are Learned

"-Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."

"-Since when you became Einstein?"

"-Since when were you so interested of my input on the matter? I presumed humans were nescient."

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(Flashback - 10 years ago…)

Shouts and chatters of kids in the colorful classroom felt a tad bit intimidating. The lemon and oak scent permeated the classroom, filling his nostrils while the sun illuminated the room. Despite him being ironically the tallest 6-year-old in the 1st Grade, seeing so many of them playing, coloring a crayon book, being rowdy with each other as sneakers and chairs squeaked on the waxed tiled floors made little Isaac feel smaller. The only reassurance is that he sees Matt drawing a picture and absentmindly talking with someone…another kid with light sunkissed skin, who was creating a vertically shaped masterpiece of Lego blocks, vividly styled as a building to have foundation and support. The kid beside the intricate puzzles of blocks was someone that Matt became friends with this weekend. 

Isaac takes a closer look at the kid and he notices how orderly and noble the kid is acting. With combed hair, tailored white long sleeve button down shirt, followed by black dress shorts, white ribbed calf socks, and black loafers. He looked like a kid who was a genius combined with the flair and fashion sense of a 1940’s child. A rich kid in basic terms. 

“Isaac! Hey Isaac!” The excited tone of Matt reached his hears, standing up abruptly to see him. “Come quick, there’s someone you gotta meet!” The little grubby hands grabs Isaac’s much softer ones, dragging him forward towards the genius-like child. “Isaac, meet my new friend, Seraph. Seraph, this is Isaac, my best friend since daycare!” Matt’s cheerful declaration did not solve the newfound nervousness Isaac developed as the kid, Seraph, stares at him with gray eyes. Gray eyes that held mystery in them, that looked cold and aloof, that could literally scare a kid and have them scram immediately. Yet the innocence in them was visible and they were shining with curiosity, how did Matt become friends with this one?

The ambient noise of mindless chatter and cheers from the other kids served as the contrasting backdrop. It highlighted the uncomfortable silence between Isaac and this debonair kid, a pin drop could have resonated loudly between them. Seraph’s eyes seemingly judging him, eyeing him like he was an experiment that needed to be tested. Seraph lets out a small puff of air, and then he parts his lips.

“So you’re the best friend that Matthew here excitedly chatted about and wanted me to meet? I do find your bravery and choice of friends admirable and intriguing.” The professional and intelligent tone of the boy was unbelievable. How did this kid talk like that? No, why did this kid talk like that? He is speaking as if he were a full-sized adult, it baffled and spooked Isaac. “Do not be afraid. I also wanted to meet you as well and request if I can be your friend too. Can I…Isaac?” 

Despite Seraph’s confident tone, he senses a slight uncertainty at the end of his question, along with the innocence lacing the child’s voice, as if Seraph felt like he was scaring him away. He wasn’t scaring him, in fact he was captivated by the way Seraph was talking and…whatever Seraph was building, which looks like a three-dimensional construction of a building that is entirely made out of lego. Not a single impairment within the foundation. The reassurance of his words ‘do not be afraid’ allowed Isaac to drop down his emotional walls to get to know this new person.

“I am sorry, but if I am scaring you Isaac, then I understand if you do not wish for me to be your friend-”

“Wait, Seraph-”

“Um no! No y-you aren’t scaring me…it’s just that Matt here is the only friend I really talk to…” Isaac trails off in shyness, kicking his feet on the tiled floor. “I don’t really talk to the other kids in this class.”

“I see,” Seraph hums, pausing at the playful atmosphere before him. His eyes scatter to see the different kids that are of their ages, playing with toys, stuffed animals, etc. Isaac felt that Seraph was different. He saw that Seraph was different, by the way he looked, the way he spoke, the way those gray eyes observed the room like a hawk. He was very perceptive and for someone who is 6 years old, already advanced and ahead of himself, Matt and the rest of the class. “I suppose we find ourselves in similar circumstances, both not forging connections with our peers or engaging in social interactions within our class, excluding Matt of course.”

The unexpected combination of this kid’s appearance coupled with the swift and adult-like articulation of his words left Isaac puzzled. Just what kind of 1st Grader talks like that? It did make Isaac more interested in the well-dressed child who now has his hands folded neatly on his desk surveying the scene before him.

“Yeah Zac, um Seraph talks like that alot and while it does sound weird, this is his way of talking to other people. He always says “do not be afraid” too.” Matt butts in, his face contorting an odd expression. The privileged youngster tilts his head in confusion. 

“It’s the way I present myself and communicate. Is there something wrong with my wording and how I converse?” Seraph asks, and despite how sharp and voidless his gray eyes were perceived to be, Isaac could see hints of nervousness in those orbs. The dapper boy looked composed and concealed with a flair of affluence and suave, yet he could sense just how odd and out of place Seraph felt, just like Isaac. 

“My name’s Isaac, which Matt already told you but just in case y-you forgot. Nice to meet you, and I wanna become friends with you too.” Isaac holds out his hand for a shake, a dopey smile on his lips. Seraph looks at the hand, then up to Isaac’s face, before eyeing his hand again. Then he glances back up and suddenly there is a sight to behold in front of him. To Isaac at first, he thought kids like Seraph would never laugh and smile due to their aloofness and callous nature. But Seraph’s faint smile is an anomaly Isaac witnesses, but the most peculiar thing was how bright Seraph’s eyes seem to be from this. He could have also sworn he saw the child’s eyes give out a violet hue within them before shifting back to gray, but he couldn’t tell. Maybe that was the sun’s reflection in the room and it had a mirage effect on his eyes. Seraph shakes the former’s hand with that faint smile being replayed over and over. 

“Seraph Kingfisher. Even though by now, Matthew here must have relayed to you my legal entity already but I am merely letting you know who I am at your request of friendship and getting to know you. After all, you and I are alike when it involves anti-social tendencies.” Seraph explains too much for Isaac’s brain to process. 

“You forgot about me being here, too.” 

“My apologies, and let’s not forget Matthew. In this particular sense, you serve as the bridge to our new friendship and the expansion of a broader, diplomatic relationship to me and Isaac’s emerging friendship, contributing to your more social disposition.” Seraph replies to Matt’s jest.

“Sometimes I wonder how you talk like that.”

“My parents raised me with class and manners. It’s proper etiquette, and a sense of code for respect and to treat others the way you want to be treated.” Isaac could only stare at how dutiful and respectful Seraph is with the intelligent and proper language he spoke with the inclusion of professional body language. Seraph was like a walking book of knowledge. 

“Is something amiss, Isaac? You seem quite parched and dazed.” Seraph’s straightforward question startles the young curly haired boy.

“Oh no—it’s nothing. It’s just…I am kind of happy you don’t see me as a kid who is a little taller than most of the kids here. And…I am happy we’re friends now.” Isaac stammers out, gaining confidence at the end of his sentence.

“So am I Isaac, and no there is nothing wrong with you being a tall 6-year-old. To me, I concur that you have been born with blessed genes that make you an able body person.” Seraph compliments, gazing at him softly. “While Matt here is artistic and sociable. An ambivert with a curious and thoughtful personality.”

That compliment made Matt shuffle his feet, a sight Isaac only sees when Matt gets shy or embarrassed. “Um thank you, Seraph.���

Isaac returns his gaze back to the affluent elementary kid, who is now switching the Lego between the hand constructed building. There was something about Seraph that made him admiring and cool to look at. Was it how he was dressed? His posture? How he was easily able to build a Lego building in real world detail? The way he was speaking to him? He didn’t know, nor could he make an accurate decision on what he felt, but all he did know was that he didn’t want to separate from Seraph. He wanted to be best friends with Seraph just like he’s best friends with Matt. Because he can see just how different Seraph was from the others. 

Pursing his lips together, Isaac sits beside Seraph. “Can I…play with the Lego? Help you build this building?” His voice comes out soft and shy, despite having just become friends with him 5 minutes ago. 

The boy in question glances at Isaac, his gray eyes boring into Isaac’s blue ones, with a gentle gaze that held a touch of bewilderment, contrasting how sharp and cutthroat they looked. It suddenly dawned on him that he might be treading on delicate grounds, the perplexed expression from Seraph signaling a possible misstep in their evolving rapport.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have asked if you wanted to play with me if you wanted to play-”

“No,” The interjection of Seraph cuts off his next words, “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never had anyone inquire or offer to build something with me, and that is the reason.”

He nods at the former’s response slowly, before his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “Not even Matt? I mean I know he likes to draw but he’s friendly to ask.” He points to their friend who shrugs.

“I am not really good with Legos, or building something huge like Seraph’s building here.” It’s Matt’s response that Isaac hears. He hears the other kid shuffle in their seat. “Perhaps I can teach you, Matt.”

Seraph speaks to the aforementioned boy who glances back. “I can even help teach you as well Isaac so that you can be able to build impressive toy architects such as this example.” The other two boys look at Seraph in awe, as if they have just seen a video game on the window-sill and as if it’s calling their names to purchase it.

“Sure, I wanna learn how to build!”

“Um, I guess so…I mean will it be hard to build it because…” The shy boy trails off looking at Seraph’s design, “mines ain't gonna come out like yours.”

“That is the exact reason why I stated I will teach you how to build a complete lego set.” Seraph sends him a wry grin, snickering while finding Isaac’s boldness entertaining. Isaac’s cheeks flush in embarrassment at his words.

“There is a saying: practice makes perfect. Hence, I will be helping you, so you can learn and master how to build a three-dimensional building, such as my design concept.” The intellectual words, followed by a formal tone of proper punctuation echoes to both Isaac and Matt. Well more Isaac. He sees just how amazing his new friend is, even wanting to teach him how to build a set of blocks just for fun. 

Three 6 year-olds in their own world, learning from their new friend on how to build an actual building out of legos. To everyone else, they were just playing blocks. But to Isaac, it was a new friendship, a bond that felt warm, contrasting the icy gray eyes of his new friend. He was never good at making friends honestly speaking, his introverted personality made things difficult since he was in daycare with Matt, who became his first friend out of sheer courage. 

But Seraph…he was different. Different than any kid in the 1st grade, and it wasn’t because of how he dressed, it’s how quiet but observant he was, how smart yet proper he was, how intimidating yet soft he was, and he could have easily said no to him for playing. But…he didn’t, he even surprised Isaac by saying he never had anyone asked him to play with him or build with him before, and to many other kids in their classroom he looked frightening because of his eyes and stone cold face, but not to Isaac. 

To 6 year-old, introverted and shy Isaac, he was mysterious and alluring. Plus, he gave Isaac something he never had before: confidence. Because he never would think he’d be in this kid’s presence without feeling shy and scared by his icy looks of condemnation and judgment, but here he is, smiling and laughing with Seraph who is sitting between him and Matt.

And…6 year-old Seraph was sporting a smile of his own. Isaac once again turns his head to the former. “Hey, can I call you Raph instead?”

Now, it was Seraph’s turn to be surprised. Isaac thought he stepped too far again and took advantage of his newfound friendship. 

“Yes, you may call me Raph, a shortened version of my name.” The aforementioned kid just continues to shock and impress Isaac more and more. “Only if I can request to call you Zac.”

Isaac smiles at that nickname that Matt gives him, now being asked by Seraph. “Deal.”

(3 years later…)

Friendships are supposed to be forever. Especially when it is a treasured one, especially when two kids have become best friends over time. 9-year old Isaac always thought that he was going to have this friendship with Seraph and Matt. So…where did it go wrong? How did their friendship collapse in the blink of an eye?

He didn't know what happened that night—no, he did. He was aware of his brother’s swim team and his father, who is the coach of the aforementioned team, having a huge party in the backyard of their house. His older brother Camden was one of the star swimmers and the main clique leader of this team. It should have been a celebration filled with good times and happiness. It wasn’t. 

He and Matt were supposed to exchange the latest Spiderman comic book, as the duo were very huge fanboys of the character and series. Seraph did adore Spiderman as well, but he was more of a Black Panther and Thor fan, yet Seraph always quoted a famous quote from Spiderman: “With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility.”

It was just the two of them since Seraph left early because he gained a headache that made him groan from time to time and it made Isaac and Matt concerned for their best friend. The affluent child’s cousin, Coriolanus, came and picked him up. It is also ironic how Coriolanus was the best friend of his older brother, because they were the same age but while Camden was part of the swimming team, Coriolanus was in the basketball team since his height overshadowed everyone that Isaac sometimes thought Coriolanus was a giant. 

The boy’s comic book exchange went downhill because Matt was nowhere to be found, until he heard screaming and yelling. He runs just in time to see his father, who was holding a soaked and gasping Matt by the edge of their pool, yelling at Seraph who is surprisingly back to their house. But the 9-year old noticed the tense posture, the snarl, and blazing look in Seraph’s eyes—an unusual sight. He never saw his best friend express, it was like looking at a clone who took over someone’s body with their only change being their personality. Isaac began shaking because of how furious his father was getting and the grinding of his teeth, afterall his father has gotten distant and apathetic with anger, going as far as taking it out on him and Camden lately. He didn’t want Seraph to endure that same treatment, yet his affluent best friend looked unafraid, challenging his father’s authority. He never heard Seraph scream and yell with so much anger that it puts the Incredible Hulk’s anger to shame. 

His eyes widen as he witnesses his father push Seraph slightly in anger, saliva catching in his throat before his legs carry him over to the hostile scene to stop his father from going to hurt Seraph. The next action freezes him—the punch Seraph delivers in retaliation after his father lets go of Matt. The rough cry of his father, the thud of his body, and the clatter of his father’s glasses on the concrete floor intensified his shock. Watching his best friend strike his father in the face in front of everyone was like watching a movie in slow motion. The chaos that kept rising ended with Seraph’s fist, the silence echoing in the atmosphere as the once thriving party came to an abrupt end. 

He watches his father recoil, a hand to his face where Seraph struck, contorted in shock. Coriolanus dashes past little Isaac before halting in front of his enraged little cousin and a wet, dripping, and paralyzed Matt. He could have sworn he saw Seraph’s eyes glow in dark violet hue, but when he blinked to do a double take, they were gone. Maybe it was the pool lights reflecting in his eyes, illuminating the azure color of the water that mirrored his eyes. Perhaps it was the lights around them brightening the atmosphere, giving a luminescent glow. The chaos returns with a vengeance as he sees Coriolanus argue with Camden, rage barely concealed on the surface, while Isaac’s father threatens to call the police for what Seraph had done.

Isaac stood there, aghast and paralyzed with his limbs unsteady and mouth parted open, hearing himself say “stop”, “stop”, “stop”, “please don’t, “don’t call them”. The daunting thought of the police taking Seraph away was horrifying despite how unrealistic it sounded because the police couldn’t arrest little kids. At the same time, he is unable to understand or figure out why his Seraph punched him so hard that blood is trickling down from both nostrils, the vermillion liquid coating the tanned skin of his father’s nose cascading down to his lips and to his hand. Just how hard did his best friend punch him?

He found himself walking towards Matt, who had gone silent, yet his clothes were drenched in water and chlorine, shivering like a leaf in autumn. Something must have happened that caused Matt to quiver and gasp like this because he never saw Matt so frightened, eyes filled with terror. He never saw Seraph aggressive, eyes filled with rage. These are two sights he never wants to see from them. 

The ever increasing yells and screams went in and out of his ear, and now he felt himself shaking from the hostile atmosphere.

“Arresting my cousin because he punched you after you were the one who put your hands on him!? YOU STARTED IT!!!”

“You should have been the one to put him on a leash because he’s—!”

“Call my cousin a dog and I will do worse than whack you across the face.”

“YOU THREATEN ME!? YOU WANNA THREATEN ME!?”

“That’s not a threat! That’s a promise Mr. Lahey! And Camden you should have known better than to throw Matt in the pool when he can’t swim!”

Wait…what?

“What kind of man doesn’t know how to swim? He is a sissy!”

“NOT EVERYONE HAS THE KNOWLEDGE OR ABILITY TO SWIM YOU DERANGED LUNATIC—!”

“Stop calling Matt names, you degenerate jerk!” It was the rough and icy timbre of Seraph’s voice that degraded his father afterwards, and Isaac began shaking uncontrollably. He wants this to stop, he is trying to hold Matt close to him while failing to stay calm from the arguing. He doesn’t know what to do, or how to stop them from arguing. Other than drag the eerily quiet yet shuddering Matt away from the macabre of insults and aggressive tension. 

“Matt,” Isaac wordlessly says, shaking his soaked arms slightly when he doesn't get a response, “Matt are you okay? What happened?” Isaac glanced at his friend who was still shocked and silent through his wheezing, as if he was having an asthma attack. His condition being a backdrop to the heated arguing of spiteful and hostile words and shouts, with Coriolanus and Camden on the verge of throwing blows.

"ENOUGH!!!" The command sliced through the chaotic air like a thunderclap, an authoritative crescendo that sent shockwaves through the backyard. Isaac, caught off guard, felt an involuntary flinch as the reverberations reached him. The source of the sound and tonality was immediately apparent, as his instinct guided his gaze to the epicenter.

There, amidst the turmoil, emerged the tall and imposing figure of Seraph's father in the doorway that separates the pool and kitchenette of Isaac’s house. His silhouette cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of the heated confrontation. The air seemed to still be around him, as if nature itself acknowledged the presence of a commanding force.

Seraph's father stood with a stoic and collected demeanor, a calm yet intense glare cutting through the tumult like a laser. His eyes bore the weight of authority, a simmering power beneath the surface. The lines etched on his face hinted at experiences weathered, a testament to the resilience that accompanied a father's steadfast resolve.

Isaac couldn't help but be captivated by the scene. The contrast between the authoritative figure and the chaos unfolding created a tableau of tension and consequence. The backyard, once a battleground of heated exchanges, now held an anticipatory hush, awaiting the next course in the unpredictable story unfolding before them.

The click and echo of dress shoes was heard on the concrete pavement, the man’s gaze unwavering. Isaac quickly steals a shaky glance at his 9 year old best friend and a now calmed down Coriolanus. 

“Coryo, take Seraph to the car. I will handle this.” Was Seraph’s father’s only words before the taller male nods wordlessly and gently grabs the affluent elementary kid, then begins walking. He could hear his father’s angry shouts and hollers which was followed by Seraph’s father’s calm but firm replies, but Seraph wasn’t looking at him. Isaac kept calling his name, and even went in to grab him but his movements were stopped by Isaac’s furious father, a callous vice grip on his pale wrist that made him wince and knew it would leave bruises.

“You are to never play with that kid again, ya understand!?”

“But Dad—!”

“I said, do you understand!?” His father, appearing enraged and hostile with his nose and lips still coated in his own blood, while painfully squeezing Isaac’s little wrist, made the kid nod hesitantly. He didn’t want to stop talking to Seraph. That’s his best friend. 

The rest of the night went on in a blur, as Seraph’s father left, followed by Matt’s parents arriving in a frenzy to pick him up and the party ended right there. But Isaac was only focused on Matt and Seraph. While Matt’s parents stated he was okay and had no physical related injuries, his friend never contacted him back at all. Matt also didn’t want to come back to the Lahey residence per what his parents have told him. Yet, the biggest radio silence he ever received was from Seraph. Since that night, he never received a phone call from the Kingfisher residence, or a visit to his house. It was as if his best friend had disappeared. 

He waited…and waited…and waited…and waited until it had been 3 weeks and the nervousness began eating him alive. The menacing and eerie radio silence gnawed at him, his endless fidgeting eroding his uneasiness, Isaac didn't know what to do. Seraph did not contact him at all.

Then, he heard the news of Seraph's grandfather, who was murdered in cold blood in the reserve. The iciness that entered the child's veins was visible through his shaking form. The death of Augustus Kingfisher was an eerie and traumatic death, he couldn't bear to know how Seraph was currently feeling at this very moment in time, but he knows what it feels like to lose a relative he loves. He lost his mother. That led to 2 more weeks of radio silence, until one day, Isaac decided to take the initiative to call him. It's what childhood best friends do, right? To watch over each-other, right?

He got the courage to pull the house phone from the receiver and dialed the number to Seraph’s house. He was finally able to speak to Seraph. But, the call didn’t end well. The harsh and cold voice of his best friend made little Isaac wince and recoil in shock. Isaac tried to ask what is wrong and why is Raph acting like this. 

“We cannot see each other anymore Isaac.” The delivery of Seraph’s words were vague but haunting. What did he mean by that? Why did Seraph sound so cold and detached? 

Isaac was speechless, stuttering over his words.

“What do you mean we can’t see each other anymore? Why are you talking like that?”

“I am merely saying that we cannot have moments of camaraderie, or in layman terms, hang out anymore. We need to dissolve our friendship from the events that happened at the pool.” Seraph rephrases for the boy. A sudden shift of panic and despair grows inside of Isaac’s gut. Why is he breaking our friendship?

“Why…? Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand, why do we have to stop being friends? Whatever I did I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you or for my dad hurting you? Did he do something that made you punch my dad’s face?” His eyes were burning with saltwater, brimming at the edge begging to be released from his eyes.

"Raph...is it...is it because of what happened to your grandfather-"

“Goodbye Isaac.” Seraph concludes coldly, getting cut off before hearing the line of the telephone disconnecting, its alarm-like sound ringing in his ear. The first tear dropped to the floor, while Isaac’s form remained still. Needles prickled inside of his arm as his grasp on the phone stilled. The air felt heavy, a foreboding silence ringing in his ears all around him, except the daunting and cold echoing of Seraph’s words.

Seraph…don’t leave me alone…    

(Present Day)

He remembers it like it was yesterday. The childhood memories he has, once filled with warmth and serene, are now overwhelmed by bitterness and icy callousness that springs tears to his eyes. Yet the painful but sweet memory stopped his dawning panic attack, but it brought upon hurt and emotional discomfort. He’s been in emotional turmoil throughout his life. His friend abandoned him when he needed him the most. When Seraph also needed him as well.

The loss of his mother, the death of his brother in Afghanistan, the abrupt change and cruelty of his father, and the destruction of his friendships, Matt Daehler and most importantly, Seraph. What hurts more is the pain and viciousness of his friend’s words, calling out his abuse and victimization that he hides behind a facade of nonchalance and introvert to be careless and detrimental to him rather than taking action to do something about it. As if he isn’t aware of the agonizing situation that he deals with at home everyday of his life. As if he isn’t aware of the bruises and cuts he receives from his father who shows absolutely no care in hitting him whenever he wants. As if he doesn’t experience pain, drama, and turmoil every month, every week, every day, every hour. Yet his friend did not take that into consideration, but brought it up abruptly and callously. 

It doesn’t help that he has to return home to a toxic and unwelcoming environment that he calls home because he has nowhere else to go, or no other relative that lives in Beacon Hills. Plus, his father is all he has left, even if it feels like swallowing lead and venom while he is in his presence, even if his cold and brutal hands break his skin and hurts him before throwing him inside the freezer box, even his father’s words of gaslighting and verbal insults pierce through him like a blade of torture, he still gets back up and moves forward. The terror and fright behind it all hurts and traumatizes him, yet what is he able to do? Who would ever want to aid a weak teenager who cannot defend himself against his father? They may even say his father is right because he does wrong things that are disobedient to his father, despite his conscious telling him that what his father is wrong hundred percent of the time in his actions. Yet his friend revealed the hard cold truth to him that he wished wasn’t true, and is terrified to believe.

He just doesn’t want to be alone, and yet now…he feels truly alone…because Seraph’s words of the harsh, bitter truth came to light and stated it insensitively. Why Raph? Why did you leave me behind?

The sound of chatter in the hallways makes Isaac glance at the clock of the empty classroom and he realizes there’s only 15 minutes left of lunch, almost time for his next class. He wipes away his tears, wincing slightly when he rubs the bruise on his cheek. He can’t have anyone see him with his eyes all red and puffy. Maybe they wouldn’t care if they saw him like this. Just like how Seraph wouldn’t care.

Perhaps...he never knew Seraph as much as he thought he did.

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The school’s main office is usually a place of tension and anticipation for students who are in trouble, or a place of contentment and joy when they are told their parents are requesting them to come home for something important. In Seraph’s case, it was neither. He is a student with an A grade in all of his classes so the first option is out, and he loves school and to do classwork so the second option is out, Well what is it? He missed History class, and to top it off, it’s Free Period. Most students would be questioned as to why they are in the office for so long. But due to his academic GPA and standing, the office was his second study place. Not to mention his father donates to the school annually, cue the favoritism to his chagrin.

The remorse and regret of his cruel and indifferent words to Isaac’s current situation is sinking him into a pit of shame and disappointment. Not to mention he feels Isaac’s aura of melancholy and heartache across the school all thanks to him. But he knows better to approach the teenager right now to confront and apologize for his words knowing that will only make the circumstances worse. 

Congratulations, Seraph. You stabbed a dagger through Zac’s soul and drained it all of what innocence he had left. Impressive and fantastic. Now you are left with the repercussions of what you’ve caused. Then you wonder exactly why your deceased grandfather stated you have a provocative mouth. The sarcastic and impervious thoughts of his conscience mocks him. A harsh scowl plasters his face, not in the mood to deal with his conscience or be reminded of the horrid trauma of his dead relative. The consistent clatter of typing on the keyboard behind the desk, along with the telephones ringing in the atmosphere and the chatter of students in the hallway outside was just minimal background noise.

Seraph was in his own conscience, reeling over his harsh encounter with Isaac, his…ex-friend he assumes now that he probably squashed any chances of reconciliation, and the premonition he received of a future; a future of him and the others alongside new faces in Beacon Hills, which he is unable to decipher because he is aware that those faces aren’t familiar. WAIT— the one who was wearing the Jersey that had the number 9 on it, is actually familiar. But where have I seen that face before? 

A quiet hiss leaves his mouth from remembering the bewildering premonition, rubbing his two fingers on his temple. This is one huge drawback with his precognitive powers. This can occur in two separate ways: either through getting successive premonitions within a 24 hour period, or receiving a large premonition that reveals many adversaries and outcomes at once and can travel in said realm of precognition such as the one he had minutes ago. The result of taking in such a drastic premonition lands him with an irritable headache that will last for a few hours. He should have turned off his premonition this morning if he didn’t want to receive such future obstacles. Now he understands why his father shuts off his precognition when he is away in his locations such as Alaska or San Francisco, or during his political work in Beacon Hills Town Hall. Now he understands why his family remains a neutral party in all conflicts, such as the Hale Fire, Scott’s transformation, the Largest arrival, and the unknown identity of the Alpha. 

Speaking of turning off the power…

Seraph closes his eyes and turns off his ability, inquiring about the possibility that the headache may disperse much sooner with his special ability now off. Yet that still does not help his current impasse. No aspirin or pain-relieving medication would prove efficacious in alleviating his headache, because it manifested itself through the use of supernatural energy. How hollow and pointless would it be if the school nurse were to examine his headache with technological test results only to come up with nothing. It would be unmistakable exposure and treacherous for him to go to the hospital to inspect his headache, since using the CT scan would show the humans his skull which would reflect the lighting and photo scans thanks to his blood and supernatural biology. (Yes he will continue to milk the supernatural biology card and he will not be unfettered by it.) 

The clicking sounds of heels and his name being called forces Seraph to glance at the school’s secretary. “Good Afternoon, Mr. Kingfisher. Do you wish to call your mom so you can be sent home?”

Seraph simply nods, taking his cell phone out and dialing the number of his mother’s cellphone while the school secretary prepares the necessary documents to be sent home and excused for his classes today. It did earn him surprised and unusual glances since for the first time in his history of attending school, he is being sent home. He has not missed a day of school in his life, nor has he ever received a tardy for being late, nor has he been sent home for sickness or pain as the latter has never contracted diseases or pain. (Thanks to his immunity to diseases.)

For him to go home in the middle of the school day is quite shocking to the staff. Yet he doesn’t spare any of them a look, his eyes trained on the ceiling as he waits for the call to pick up on the phone. The ringing ends and a soft yet confused tone enters his ears. “Seraph, is everything okay?”

Already asking him and without even receiving information on what is wrong, Seraph’s expression is amused slightly, yet restrains himself from adding discomfort to his head. “No. I have a painful pounding in my skull and my current mood is not an exquisite one. I cannot concentrate on my work with an excruciating headache disrupting everything I try to do, and before you conclude anything,” his voice drops to a whisper, “it’s the special headaches I would get from my premonitions.” Unfortunately, being immune from every disease in the world does not mean he is immune to headaches. Normal headaches that a typical human or a werewolf would get, applies to his kind as well, but since normal medication like aspirin would be ineffective, he would have to use a concoction of vervain, clover, and mugwort, a surprisingly not-so-bad concoction, to quell normal headaches.

Whereas the special headaches that come from his premonition ability, those take more time to dissipate because it is the psychological impact and vignette vision behind the premonitions that cause a mental and soul distress between his brain and supernatural powers. The concoction won't work for this so he will have to drag it out. The special headaches last longer and it varies how much was envisioned within a day or the successive amounts of premonitions that occurred within an hour time limit.

He hears his mom clear her throat. “Now I see. Did you receive too many premonitions within the hour limit, or did you receive a large one that caused you to explore outside of where you are standing in your premonition?” His mom inquires, her voice steady yet comfortable. Unlike him, his sister, and his father, his mother does not have the premonition ability, since this unique power originated from his paternal grandfather, and was passed down to Azrael, which then was passed down to him and Celes. 

“It was an extended premonition that manifested my headache.” He murmurs quietly, drinking a cup of water to at least soothe him. He heard a hum of acknowledgment on the line, followed by a short pause.

“Is there more to this story?” Elizabeth’s calm voice questions, and Seraph eyes the phone as if she could see his baffled reaction. “Your senses are definitely off if you are this silent from my reply, as you are aware I can sense your emotions and aura. Did something else happen?” She repeats, waiting on the line. 

Releasing a sigh of discontent, Seraph knows there is no need to hide this. “Yes actually. I encountered Lahey and the two of us ended up having a brief but intense confrontation to the point that I unleashed unwanted vitriol against him without taking in consideration of his well being and trauma…and…I—” For the first time in his life, Seraph stammers, his usual prominence in composure, administration, and sprezzatura lost. He truly messed up big time, didn’t he? First that extensive and harrowing vision, and then his accidental and visceral mishap that tore Isaac apart emotionally.

His mother’s voice reels him back in, worry evident in her tonality. “Honey, breath. Take a deep breath and exhale.” He does as he is told, inhaling deeply before releasing the puff of air, his nerves returning back to normal. The headache only got worse, not enough to stumble him but enough to cause more irritation. “We’ll talk about it when we get home, darling. I am sending the email now to notify them that I am giving you permission and confirmation to be sent home.” He hears quick typing from the keyboard through the phone. “I will have Milene make you the medicinal concoction to help you.”

“Actually, I’d rather not talk about it. I would prefer to leave it behind as a forgotten memory and carry on.” Seraph secures the strap on his satchel, standing up. 

“Are you sure? It is much better if you discuss this with me rather than letting it bottle up. I won’t force you to talk if you wish not to, but are you sure you would rather not discuss this?” Elizabeth asks. God bless his mother for her generosity and empathetic nature. Despite his cold and hypersaline personality, a small part of him is anxious if he is overbearing or irreverent to his family. Though he is aware they are used to his ways and apathy and find no trouble in it, sans Celes who is the victim of his torment of jabs and sibling dynamic. 

“Yes, I am sure.” He huffs out, standing up to stretch, ignoring the annoying throb in his head. A soft hum came from the receiver, as an indirect form of response. Seraph walks to the desk, collecting the documents and paper after the secretary receives the email. He mouths a thank you before leaving, with the secretary replying to him to get better soon. 

“Alright then. Grandma won’t be home until late tonight. She is on a trip to a Gala in Los Angeles with Arnold, and your father is currently at the Town Hall, courtesy of the recent murders to manifest a curfew law for the time being. Celes will be with Gwen and her other friend Patricia for much of the day. So It’ll be me and Milene in the early evening.” Elizabeth tells him. Seraph hums in approval.

“I understand. Thank you…mom.” Seraph tells her hesitantly, a tone he is NOT used to producing. Seriously, how out of function he is today? Elizabeth tells him goodbye and the line disconnects. He heaves a sigh and walks up to the desk to receive an early dismissal pass alongside a large manila envelope of letters for the last classes of today to be excused for tomorrow. He leaves and stomps down the white tiled floor to his locker. 

Suddenly, while walking to his locker, a repugnant, gnarly and copper like scent fills his nostrils. He almost vomits at how intense it smelled. The concoction of rotten copper, dead skin, mutilated organs, and…wolfsbane— wait, what? That made Seraph stop in his path of direction. Wolfsbane…Derek Hale arrived in the school with such a disgusting and deathly scent yet he is alive. Scott doesn’t produce this scent either since the beta is healthy and smells like shower gel, oak and laundry detergent. 

“You must really, really hate me.” He hears Jackson say poignantly. While you aren’t a malicious person, your arrogance and pride is what causes conflict with those around you, Whittemore. Seraph conveys internally.

“Not at all.�� Allison rebukes, despite feeling her aura of uncertainty. Allison doesn’t hate him but she feels apprehensive about the Lacrosse captain no doubt to his previous antagonistic behavior. Especially towards Scott.

“You sure? Because you know, I’m not a bad guy—I mean I make stupid mistakes a lot but…I’m not bad.” He asserts, giving Allison his best ‘sincere’ tone. Please don’t tell me they are by my locker. Seraph prays to no one in particular. 

“I like you…I mean—I like you and Scott together, and I would like to get you know you guys better.” Jackson says to the Argent heiress through Seraph’s hearing, and the latter does a double take at what the jock fumbles over his words. Why does Jackson sound so desperate and…unsure of himself? His heartbeat regarding his words states an ulterior motive…what are you planning to do, Whittemore?

The closer Seraph gets to his locker, the stronger and more detestable it grew. His lungs couldn’t bear with the scent, but he kept his poise and continued through this unfathomable torment. Once he was in view of his locker, there he saw two individuals, and while not only did one of them produced the loathesome scent, but the other one was just sitting uncomfortably beside the former. Seraph is baffled that Jackson reeks of a rotting corpse combined with the potent flower. His skin, deathly pale and unnatural, alongside his sunken eyes appears to make him look dead. Until it hit Seraph’s mind. 

Derek’s claws were infected with wolfsbane poisoning from the bullet, therefore when he dug into Jackson’s nape, the poisoned blood and fluid transferred into Jackson’s blood, infecting him as well. Seraph relays in his head after coming to the conclusion of Jackson’s repulsive scent. While Derek only and unintentionally transmit part of the potency into Jackson’s body, it is still enough to cause organ failure and serious health damage into the body. It can, if not treated, kill him. Seraph may have to concoct Wolfsbane Amenia, or the healing Wolfsbane with Clover, and convert them into capsules for Jackson to consume, even though that could raise suspicions within Jackson of how Seraph knows about what happened. Plus he would need Jackson's consent regarding to giving him capsules, something that will hurt the teen's huge ego and earn a harsh reject from him.

He shook his head, the abhorrent smell threatening to make him reel. He turned his attention to the second individual who is anxious and uncomfortable beside Jackson who’s invading her privacy per say. Allison Argent. They were just a locker beside his on the top of them. Seraph’s shoes echo the floor, catching the attention of both teenagers, who have different reactions to seeing him. 

Jackson’s expression sours at the sight of him, due to earlier interactions and the last time Seraph insulted him in the parking lot, which the enigmatic teenager couldn’t care less about. But Allison’s expression is intrigued but reticent. Her eyes study the body language, facial expressions and movements of him. He never uttered a single word to the girl since her arrival, nor acknowledged her presence. But judging by how Allison is studying him, there is no doubt that Lydia must have mentioned him to her in their interactions since those two are best friends. Then again, Lydia is also the type to not tell Allison about a being like him. 

“Pardon my intrusion, but my locker is beside you on top, Ms. Argent.” Seraph politely declares. Allison’s expression snaps to realization.

“Oh, sorry, just…let me move a little bit over.” Allison replies, but he notices the heavy hesitation laced in her voice due to a certain ill-looking jock being a little too close to her in such a disturbing fashion. But at Seraph’s cutthroat expression, Jackson does move a little further, though to Allison moving slightly than to Seraph’s icy veil.

“Thank you.” The enigmatic mutters before approaching the locker, and inputting the combination of the lock to open his locker. The throbbing surged up slightly, and that had Seraph just stop momentarily, touching his temple to rub it even though such actions will not deter the effect of the headache. Damn, he thought, while opening his locker fully to put only the necessary study materials away in exchange for the one he needs later for homework. 

“Are you okay?” Seraph freezes, not sure to be surprised to be asked such a question, or Allison’s boldness to ask. But he keeps a straight face and slightly turns to her hesitant but inquisitive gaze, ignoring the jock beside her.

“Phyiscally yes. I am going home early due to a repulsive and pounding headache that is prevailing my concentration and school input. But nothing to fret about, I am fine. Just lethargic.” He responds to her cordially. To be very honest, there isn’t much to talk here, since these two do not know each other. Allison didn’t have to actually speak anything to him, and he didn’t have to respond. But it did alter the course of their interactions. He did however, heard a weak but masculine chuckle. 

“Wow, that’s a first. Can’t handle a little headache, Kingfisher? That’s the first time since you attended school to ever go home early. Are we less than intelligent beings make you unable to handle our rambunctious rowdyness?” Jackson asks dubiously, earning a glower from Allison who just heard him apologize for being mean to Scott even though his delivery of it sounded less sincere and more desperate mixed with eerieness. 

Seraph, through his irritating headache and in spite of the disgusting odor of death his classmate is producing, smirks and faces Jackson fully. “Ah yes, it appears even the most robust among us occasionally succumb to the whims of a mere headache. I shall take care of myself in a prominent manner, although I must admit, the pallor of your skin and the sunken shadows beneath your eyes do give cause for concern.” It took everything in the icy teenager to not make a provocative comment about his repugnant scent that is coming from him. Jackson’s eyes widen at the mention of his abnormal physical condition that he silences himself from saying anymore lest he hear Seraph say something diminshing.

Allison remains engrossed but indecisive to utter a word to Seraph, who just returned to facing his locker and pulling out a textbook. Now that she thought about it, she remembered Seraph didn’t show up in history class at all. She only remembers that she shares History, Economics, and French classes with him. There is no reason for her to strike a conversation with him, she told herself, but the thought of at least getting to know an independent and quiet individual like Seraph whom Lydia mentioned to her on the first day with a ton of information about him does make her curious to know him. 

She takes the risk and clears her throat. “You’re Seraph Kingfisher, right?” Surprisingly, the cliché question doesn’t increase his already irritating headache. He spares a glance at Allison who is still sitting beside the locker beneath his own. 

The fact that she is questioning his identity raises two possibilities: either Lydia mentioned him to her and revealed alot of information concerning him, or she must have heard the tale of him roasting an entire grade of seniors in his freshman year. He is willing to bet the former, since that tale, while still spoken, is seen as an urban legend that is to not be spoken of unless the individual is willing to risk their ego and pride. But the fact that Lydia holds him in such esteem is sacrilegious but intriguing. He doesn’t know whether to thank her or tell her to stop telling her friends about him. 

“Yes, in the flesh.” Allison nodded, deeply uncomfortable by how the pale and ill looking lacrosse captain, “Jackass” Whittemore is peering at her with macabre intent. The putrefaction of the blonde’s blood, coupled with aconite poisoning, threatened to induce the noxious concoction churned within him, instigating an unsettling urge to retch. Seraph sighs through his nose to prevent that urge and glances back at her. “Might I request your assistance in something?”

That caused Allison to look up at him, while Jackson glares at the bespectacled teen. The enigmatic considers the latter irrelevant as he focuses on the girl. “Can you hand this to Coach Finstock for Econ? I remember we both have the same class period after this.” The affluent teenager did not expect to meet the heiress of the Argents in this kind of mundane manner. If it entails distancing herself from Jackson’s disconcerting presence and the disagreeable odor of mortality that pervades his vicinit, then it is an acceptable course of action. Besides, Econ is the only class that he would rather not have the Coach reprimand him for missing class, whereas the others he can discreetly get away with thanks to his academics. 

With newfound eagerness likely as a result of escaping from Jackson, Allison nodded without hesitation and packed away her things and took the excuse letter from Seraph and safely place it in her bag. “I can do that. Although I just hope that you��re okay with everything.” Allison comments, genuine and serene in her words and expression. At least it didn’t end awkward.

Seraph nods and replies, “I am fine. Thank you.” He shuts his locker while Allison, sends him a small and cordial smile before leaving the scenery with the letter. Unlike Jackson’s current scent, Allison smells of vanilla, lavender, and oak, with a simple yet delicate touch of Coco Chanel perfume. Seraph clicks the locker of his combination before he finds Jackson, who is getting up, wobble slightly. 

“Whether or not you want to hear this is not my concern, but you are severely unwell. Your appearance is as pale as a ghost. You can barely stand with your current fractured stature. I suggest you go to a doctor and receive immediate medical treatment.” Seraph conjures, earning a sardonic expression from the jock.

“Gee, thank you for the diagnosis of my condition, doc. What do you want, a medal? Why would I take a suggestion from your stuck-up ass?” Jackson’s snark only made Seraph smirk. Even in sickness is Whittemore still an arrogant and egotistical jerk. 

"Well, Whittemore, if arrogance and egotism were Olympic events, you'd have enough gold medals to start your own mint. But alas, we're stuck with your diagnosis instead. Consider it a consolation prize for your remarkable lack of self-awareness." Seraph turns around not sparing Jackson a glance, who is giving the bespectacled teen a sour expression. He never had an issue with Seraph until now, but the delivery of his words and hypersaline persona pisses him off. But he knows trying to argue with Seraph is like arguing with a brick wall. He’d lose easily to Seraph’s words and cunning perception.

Seraph stomps down the empty hallway, hearing that clock on the wall echo as it’s 10 seconds before the bell rings. He makes it to the exit and walks down the stairs, with a few classmates out in the parking lot hanging out or doing something uninteresting. The bell inside the school blares loudly at the signal of the end of the period. Seraph enters his car and turns the engine on. He didn’t expect Allison to take the letter and give it to Coach Finstock out of kindness and a means to leave Jackson, but it did work in his favor, He reverses back from the parking lot in a 90 degree angle, and drives off on the open road leaving the school. 

---------------------------------------

Nobody, least of all Scott himself, could have anticipated the tumultuous turn his life took when he was unwillingly bitten and transformed against his will from an average human teenager to a supernatural, werewolf teenager thanks to a selfish and unstable alpha he still doesn’t know about.. His struggle to understand the politics of werewolves and hunters, and navigate his way through the intricate discord of violence against him and the trauma inflicted by a power-hungry alpha only compounded his anguish. Scott is not only grappling  with external threats but also with the internal turmoil of his own identity and the weight of his traumatic experiences caused by factors outside of his control.

This so-called “gift” that Derek persistently boasts about, is more of a dark curse that makes his life worse than it did before. Yes, his senses have heightened to an extraordinary degree—he can run faster without the risk of his asthma harming him, he can hear the faintest pin drop from miles away, discerning emotions through scent alone. Even in the darkest of nights, his vision pierces through the shadows like no sight before. However, these enhanced abilities only exacerbate the new aggression consuming him. Worse still is the looming threat of losing his humanity when the full moon casts its illuminating glow, pitting his humanity against his inner werewolf.

Regardless of his phenomenal abilities, he must keep them hidden from his mother, Allison, and his peers at school. Nevertheless, all efforts are almost starting to prove futile when Derek impulsively accuses his boss and mentor, Alan Deaton, of being the rogue alpha who turned him. This accusation defies all logic. Throughout Derek's acquaintance with Deaton, the veterinarian has been nothing but a paragon of kindness, compassion, and intelligence, drawing from years of experience in veterinary practice. Deaton has imparted invaluable skills to Scott, skills that would typically be acquired in college practice with medicine and veterinarian services. How Derek arrives at the conclusion that Deaton is the alpha is madness and pure hubris. Nothing about this assumption or situation adds up.

Scott walks alongside Stiles in the empty and dark hallways of their school after getting inside, en route to the office, distressed and confused on his agenda, which was to call the alpha (assumed to be Deaton by Derek’s blind assumption). Puzzled, uncertain, and apprehensive about this, he stares before turning to Stiles with a look of dread and worry. The latter is looking back and forth like he is under anxiety. Okay maybe staring at Stiles’s pacing isn’t helping him either. He glances back down to the hallway in front of him.

"Scott, honestly do you think you can find anyone other than Derek to help you with the alpha?" Stiles's question makes Scott pause and look to his left and into his brown eyes with perplexity.

"Like who? I don't know who is a werewolf in our school. In fact I don't even think there are any werewolves in our school." Scott counters anxiously, more focused on trying to save Deaton from Derek, or prove Derek wrong for him accusing his boss, who is a kind, wise and compassionate figure, is the vicious and malicious alpha. Scott's mind is rattled with anxiety and stress, coupled with the turmoil of his werewolf status as well as his emotions, and the psychological trauma of having to be thrusted into this supernatural world with no guidance.

Having to hide this from those he loves and cares for, especially Allison and his mom, is the major factor of his stress and edge. How is he supposed to continue to live like this for the rest of his life? How is he going to go down this dreadful path as he grapples with his humanity?

"Like I don't know. Who else could be a candidate for a beta in our school?" Stiles inquires more, flailing his arms. When Scott shakes his head confusedly, he prompts Stiles to answer. "Someone from the lacrosse team? Our classmates? Because if they are three werewolves now, then maybe there is someone else?" 

"No one in our team smells like a werewolf, Stiles. If that were the case then they either would have gotten involved, or they wouldn't." Scott replies. There's obviously not anyone else in their school who is a werewolf, otherwise Scott would make the decision to seek their aid depending on how they would perceive him. If they were antagonistic then the chances of help would be futile. He has to understand how to survive as a werewolf and balance out his life peacefully.

"Well—what about Seraph? After that odd looking pained expression on his face earlier I doubt normal poeple make that much of a painful face. Looks werewolfish to me.” 

Scott fixed him with a baffled look, stopping in the middle of the corridor within the vicinity of the main office. He is unable to tell whether Stiles is trying to say he is accusing Seraph of being a werewolf or if that’s Stiles dislike of the academically advanced classmate. Not when his werewolf senses were all over the place. He looks back at the microphone, staring at the piece. "Seraph doesn't smell like a werewolf. He has a cinnamon, rosemary and wool like scent. Plus he's human, I felt his pain when my hand touched his earlier." Scott noticed something different with Seraph. While the pain he felt from touching him was...strange, like there was something there that shouldn't be there. But he couldn't pinpoint it due to the rush of the moment and he is currently in a serious situation between controlling his emotions, his shift, and trying to save those he cares for right now.

“M-Maybe he could be a beta like you and Derek.” Stiles counters while stumbling in his own words.

“He’s not a werewolf. Now isn’t the time to make accusations, not when my boss’s life is at risk or under the suspicion he is the Alpha, which I doubt.” Scott whispers with dread at the hyperactive teenager, prompting them to continue their path. Stiles just huffs, following the Latino male to the door nearby. They shine their flashlights on the windows leading to the room, before Scott twists the knob on the door. 

“Okay one question,” The Sheriff’s son starts off, while going inside first, “what are you gonna do if the alpha doesn’t show up?” 

Scott takes a moment to answer, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“And what are you gonna do if he does show up?” Stiles pesters once more.

“I don’t know.” The werewolf shakes his head before glancing away.

“Good plan.” The former quips, shrugging his shoulders as if they aren’t already in deep shit.

Sometimes Stiles can’t be as supportive as he should be. Then again, neither of them are in a good place right now, not when Scott has to signal the alpha to attract it’s attention and proof Derek’s accusation on if Deaton is the one who bit him. All of this is stressing him out and increasing his pent-up anxiety. “Alright, you said that a werewolf howls to signal it’s position to the rest of the pack, right?”

“Right, but if you bring it here, does that make you part of it’s pack?” Stiles asked. Scott swallows with trepidation at the thought of luring the giant creature to his location. 

“I hope not.”

“Yeah me too.” Stiles quietly repeats, taking out the microphone for his friend. “Alright, all you.”

Scott gazes down at the microphone, uncertainty clouding his thoughts and unsettling his every move. With a hesitant breath, he clears his throat, drawing in a deep inhalation through his nose, as if seeking solace in the air itself before opening his mouth.

A strangled, horrid howl, reminiscent of a cat being suffocated to death, escapes from his throat, echoing grotesquely throughout the school's antiquated PA system. The sound, a dissonant cacophony of distress and embarrassment, hangs heavily in the air, eliciting second-hand discomfort from anyone within earshot. That person being Stiles, and outside in the parking lot, Derek. Something tells Scott that whatever he unleashed wasn’t a howl. 

“Was that okay? I mean that was a howl, right?” Scott solicits, seeking Stiles’s response. The latter wanted to die of embarrassment and crawl to a hole from whatever that was. 

“Y-Yeah, technically.” The Sheriff’s son sheepishly says, unsure of how to respond. Scott wasn’t convinced by that judging by his best friend's not-so-honest reply.

“Well what did it sound like to you?”

“Like a cat being choked to death, Scott.” Stiles supplies more truthfully.

A rush of breath fills Scott’s lungs as he starts to panic over his mistake, unable to hide the stress and frustration in the situation. How the fuck is he supposed to do this!? “What do I do, how am I supposed to do this!?” Sensing his discomfort, Stiles scrambles to his feet to come beside Scott in reassurance. 

“Okay, hey—listen to me, you’re calling the alpha, alright? Be a man. Be a werewolf, not a Teen Wolf. Be a werewolf.” Stiles advises him, patting his shoulder soothingly, before giving Scott his space. Scott gives him a light nod, taking a few moments to collect himself, before remembering Stiles’s advice. A transformation sweeps across Scott's countenance, replacing any hint of levity with a grave and disciplined demeanor. A surge of raw energy courses through his veins, infusing him with an unwavering resolve. His grip tightens around the microphone, knuckles white with determination, as his pupils flare with a piercing golden hue. Within the depths of his being, a primal rumble begins to stir, building momentum like an approaching storm, resonating from the depths of his chest and climbing upward, ready to unleash its potent force upon the unsuspecting audience.

In an instant, the feeble, strained sound that had emanated through the PA system minutes earlier is replaced by a mighty, earth-shattering howl that grips the very essence of the atmosphere and the school itself. The reverberations of the howl ripple through the air, causing door knobs to tremble, combination locks to rattle, and chalks on the chalkboard to quiver in response. Even the floor beneath their feet seems to pulsate with the sheer force of the sound. Its intensity is overwhelming, leaving those who hear it paralyzed with a mixture of shock and amazement. Deafening in its magnitude and eerie in its resonance, the howl captivates all who are within its reach, imprinting itself upon their senses with an undeniable power. Unfortunately…the howl was enough to signify the alpha, who now knew of Scott’s location.

As the reverberations of his howl slowly dissipate into the air, Scott stands there, a mixture of shock and amazement coursing through his veins. He can hardly believe that he, a mere high school student, was able to produce such a powerful and commanding sound. The residual energy from the howl still thrums within him, driving through his veins like a relentless force, leaving him both exhilarated and slightly unnerved. His heart races with the realization that he has just signaled his location to the alpha, a fact that fills him with a creeping sense of apprehension. In spite of this, there's a flicker of pride in his chest, knowing that he has tapped into a strength he never knew he possessed.

In addition, Stiles watches his best friend with a mixture of awe and admiration, his own shock mirroring Scott's. He can hardly believe what he's just witnessed, marveling at the raw power and intensity of Scott's howl. There's a sense of pride swelling within him, knowing that his friend possesses such incredible abilities. While he shares Scott's slight nervousness about attracting the alpha's attention, Stiles is more focused on the sheer magnitude of what Scott has just accomplished. In his eyes, Scott's howl is nothing short of extraordinary, a testament to his unwavering determination and resilience.

Despite the newfound prowess of his abilities, the dread deep down coils within his internal organs and spirit regarding how his future would be like as…this, as a werewolf. Grappling with emotions, protecting others from harm, being hunted, and having to hone his skills other than being a prodigal athletic teenager overnight but for survival is what courses around his mind like an endless Grand Pix race. The dicohotomy of being human and being a werewolf is a battle he must face.

But, if Allison is the anchor to his wolf, as Stiles mentioned earlier, if she is the reason he isn’t weak, but keeps his humanity, then that explains why he loves her. It explains why his anger that comes from the base of his inner wolf is tamed. Her voice, her presence, her aura helps him remain stable. His compassionate side, his willpower, his kindness and integrity also keeps him human too. Which then tells him that Derek’s advice to stay away from Allison isn’t because it makes him weak, but maybe because she helps him be human. As for the full moon…no he’s not going to think about that right now. There are other times for him to think about this. 

Right now, Deaton is the one who needs help, assuming that he isn’t the alpha that Derek accuses him to be.

“I’m gonna kill both of you!” Derek declares with irritation, as Scott and Stiles venture back down to the parking lot from Scott’s moment of surprise. They both looked confused and surprised at Derek’s reaction. “What the hell was that!? Are you trying to attract the whole state to the school?”

“Sorry I didn’t know it’d be that loud.” Scott replies sheepishly, sighing. Stiles on the other hand was far from embarrassed.

“Oh it was loud…and it was awesome~!” Stiles singsongs at the end, both teenagers clearly excited by this. Scott’s cheerfulness was short-lived as he noticed something was off. Derek’s car door was open.

Derek was undeterred and displeased. Neither him or Stiles noticed the Latino teenager’s distress. “Shut up.”

“Don’t be such a ‘sourwolf’-” Stiles taunts but is interrupted by Scott who grabs his arm while focusing on the black Camaro because Deaton was no longer unconsicous inside the vehicle. 

"What'd you do with him?" Scott questions, his unease palpable as he scans the surroundings for any sign of Deaton's whereabouts.

"What?" Derek's gaze darts to his vehicle, a flicker of dread crossing his features as he realizes Scott's boss is missing from where he should be. Something doesn't sit right. "I didn't do anything." His denial is swift, but the tension in his stance and the furrow in his brow betray his own sense of disquiet.

The tension in the air is shattered by a brutal and merciless attack as something sharp violently impales Derek from behind. Agonizing pain explodes throughout his body, rendering him powerless as he coughs up blood, the metallic taste flooding his senses. Every nerve screams in torment as he is hoisted into the air, his vision swimming with crimson haze as blood continues to gush from his mouth.

Scott and Stiles watch in horror, their hearts pounding in their chests as they witness the sudden and savage assault on the older werewolf. Shock freezes them in place, their minds struggling to process the gruesome scene unfolding before their eyes. Fear grips them tightly, its icy fingers clawing at their hearts as they realize the danger they're facing.

For Derek, each moment is a living nightmare, his senses overwhelmed by excruciating agony and the overwhelming scent of blood. He feels his strength draining away, his limbs growing numb as darkness threatens to consume him. Desperation surges within him, but it's futile against the relentless assault of pain and terror, and his vision begins to cloud, approaching an all too knowing darkness. 

At the Alpha’s growl, Scott and Stiles bolt the other way, sprinting to the high school after witnessing Derek being lifted. They run towards the double doors of the facility while Derek is thrown to a brick wall, his form seemingly lifeless with blood leaving his mouth. 

Scott and Stiles burst through the doors, slamming them shut behind them with trembling hands. Their hearts pound furiously against their ribcages, the thunderous rhythm echoing in their ears like a relentless drumbeat of fear. Horror grips their minds like icy tendrils, their thoughts consumed by the raw brutality they've just witnessed and the terror of the demonic creature lurking outside that just committed murder.

Their bodies quiver with adrenaline, every nerve on edge as they grapple with the harrowing reality of what they've just experienced. The air feels thick with apprehension, suffocating them as they struggle to catch their breath amidst the chaos. Images of violence and bloodshed flash behind their eyelids, refusing to fade as they desperately cling to a semblance of composure.

But beneath the facade of outward strength lies a profound sense of vulnerability, a gnawing fear that threatens to engulf them whole. They huddle together, seeking solace in each other's presence, yet unable to shake the haunting memory of the creature's savage attack. Trauma seeps into their souls like poison, leaving them shaken and scarred in its wake.

Scott never deserved to be thrust into this turmoil, one where he hangs between life and death, and that also grasps the lives of others and his loved ones. The night couldn't get any worst.

---------------------------------------

So, who was expecting Seraph's interaction with Allison? How would this friendship journey on from here? What did you guys think of the past between Seraph, Isaac, and Matt, and Scott's POV in this story regarding his emotions, thoughts and trauma?

Chapter 6 will be released on the third week of May. Also does anyone know how to make a creative divider for chapters? I am not that talented when it comes to designs like that.

If you'd like to read more or earlier chapters of this series, access it here: https://www.tumblr.com/kingofangst/737729405418389504/teen-wolf-au-series-the-wings-of-an-enigmatic?source=share

The Wings Of An Enigmatic

[kingofangst]

Hmmm...yes indeed, especially with what I have going on in my head with my story

[shortprince-cos]

The Woes Of An Emo

Summary: It's about time they figure this out. All it took was a mental breakdown.

Warnings: Mental breakdown, swearing, crying, miscommunication, confusion, kissing. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

{Masterlist} {Previous}

Chapter 8: Oh That Took Way Too Long.

~~~~~

Roman sat in the corner of the dressing room, hair sticking out wildly, makeup smeared from tears, outfit crumpled, phone by his ear, and sobs shaking his entire body, but he still smiled at Virgil.

Virgil took in a shaky breath. "I-" the words got caught in his throat.

Roman's sad smile disappeared as he ended the call. "Why-" His voice cracked. "Why did you have to do that?"

Virgil felt sick. "W-What?"

Roman got a little angrier as he glared at the ground. "Why did you-you- f**k." He swore quietly. "Why did you take me on the date if you knew? You- you knew, right?"

"K-Knew?" Virgil was operating on 1% brain function at the moment; he was barely breathing.

"Knew that I liked you, knew that-that I was Prince." The tears were loose again. "Knew that you had your own boyfriend."

Now Virgil was completely lost. "What? I- I mean yeah, I knew you liked me -you told me that part- but I didn't know you were Princey! If I knew that I would've said yes!" Virgil said before he could stop himself.

Roman stopped shaking to look confused instead, tears ceasing for a moment. "...What about your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?! What made you think I had a boyfriend?!"

Roman stood to talk to Virgil better. "You said you liked someone else! A-And your phone call at the mall! You told someone you loved them!" He said defensively.

Virgil took three seconds to let that process. "That was my dad! Not my boyfriend! Are you insane?!"

"No. You are. You-you think this is funny, don't you?"

"What about this would be funny?"

"I don't know, maybe me making a fool out of myself thinking I had a chance."

"I'm not playing you, I swear."

"That's just rich, Virgil, totally believable."

"What can I say to make you believe me?"

"Nothing!"

"Why?!" Virgil was slowly losing his reasoning skills.

"Because why on Earth would anyone ever like me?! It was foolish of me to even think that you would say yes!" Roman was crying again as he yelled. "Why would you ever like me now? After seeing me like this?"

Virgil was stunned for a moment. What was he supposed to do? Roman wouldn't believe a word he said so how was he supposed to convince him?

...Well, actions speak louder then words, right?

"...F**k anxiety." Virgil walked towards Roman, grabbed him by his t-shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

...He was kissing him.

...oh my god he was kissing him.

It was at this moment when Virgil's anxiety returned, and he was about to panic and apologize when Roman grabbed Virgil's waist and kissed him back.

It wasn't how Virgil imagined it would be. It was hot and rushing, yet also nervous and gentle. There wasn't any fireworks or music in the background, just Virgil and Roman. Which was all he needed. Just the two of them. Together.

Virgil reached up to card his fingers through Roman's hair and cup his face with the other hand. He brushed his hand over Roman's cheek when he realized that Roman was still crying.

He pulled away from the amazing kiss to look at Roman. "Are you ok?"

Roman sighed. "Just...confused."

"About?" Virgil asked, still stroking Roman's cheek, making them both blush.

"Well...did you like Roman or Prince?"

"Oh- well- uh- I guess both? I mean, I've liked Princey for probably a year now so..."

"So-" Roman laughed. How could he laugh at a time like this?! "You had a crush on me, and I had a crush on you, but we never realized that we were the same people?"

Virgil let it sink in for a moment and laughed a little too. "Yeahahah we did." They both laughed together.

Until Roman wasn't laughing anymore.

He started simultaneously sobbing and laughing, his body beginning to shake again.

Virgil hugged Roman tight, slowly rocking Roman back in forth while he cried into Virgil's shoulder, raking a hand through Roman's hair, silently hoping that it was doing at least something to help.

"I'm-" Roman gasped for some air. "I'm sorry, I-I thought that-"

"Shhhhhhh." Virgil interrupted. "It's ok. I'm sorry that I was literally blind."

Roman chuckled through the tears. "We both were for awhile."

The stood there for a couple of minutes, trying to calm each other down.

Virgil looked to Roman. "How did you know anyway? That I was anxiety."

Roman looked Virgil in the eyes. "Well, heh, I heard Patton call you 'Virge' and I realized it sounded like your username...Then I realized it was a fricking pun."

Virgil chuckled again. "Yeah, I thought it was funny."

"It was." Roman smiled at him, and all Virgil could think was 'Roman. Smile. Cute.' "But I didn't want to assume, so I...I called you Hot Topic."

Virgil blushed. "Oh. Yeah, heh, I kinda just replied as a reflex to be honest."

Roman and him chuckled together again.

Roman hid his head in Virgil's shoulder again, melting into his touch.

"You ok?" Virgil asked quietly, resuming carding through Roman's hair.

"Not really, but you're helping."

"Anything else I can do?"

"Just-" Roman took a big breath. "Everyone thinks that I'm the strong one, but I can barely even handle something being...wrong with me."

"Roman, nothing is wrong with you, you're perfect the way you are."

"No, I'm not. I have all these imperfections and-and I can't fix them."

"Roman." Virgil started, looking back to Roman again. "Your imperfections are what make you you. Your imperfections, no matter what they are, make you unique, and I love that."

Roman's emerald eyes shone with tears and hope. "I love you."

Virgil blushed hard. "I-I love you too. A lot."

Roman chuckled. "Are you still one of those people who doesn't want to be my boyfriend?"

Virgil grew even more red, remembering their conversation from what felt like forever ago. "N-No." He admitted sheepishly.

Roman chuckled at him again. "Then kiss me again, Friend On The Other Side."

Virgil giggled and obliged, being in the moment for once instead of worrying about ahead. Why would he need to worry when he had everything he wanted in this moment?

All of their problems melted away as they just enjoyed having each other. Finally relaxed and content and loved.

Virgil pulled away from Roman. "What are we gonna say to Pat and Logan?"

"Why don't we just wait for them to find out?" Roman said with a teasing smirk.

Virgil laughed. "God, you're so annoying."

"You know you love me."

"Unfortunately."

Roman and Virgil continued to flirt and tease and maybe kiss some more, but whatever happened next was their moment. It belonged to them, and no one else needed to know. They were all they needed.

The End.

~~~~~

Credit to @weweregoddesses and @thefingergunsgirl for helping edit this chapter!

And here is our final chapter!!!!!!! I really hope this was a satisfying ending, I'm not very good at ending fics lol! But I want to thank everyone who wanted to read this fanfiction, this is my longest taglist so far, and the amount of people that loved this really makes me feel like I did something well. I really hope that y'all enjoyed this experience, and I promise I have more fics where this came from!

Also, I may or may not have an extra TWOAE chapter in the works...as a treat.

Once again, thank you so much! Y'all mean the world to me!!!!

Taglist in reblog

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

[kingofangst]

Seven Ten Sentence Sunday Wednesday

I saw this now and I must make amends. Thank you for the tag @arewordsenough

This part of The Wings Of An Enigmatic is currently still in the drafts because I am going to post chapter 5 Sunday. This draft takes place in chapter 7 and a certain heroine decides to bring Seraph into her circle as a friend and confidant after the events of Night School.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Seraph," her soft voice, filled with uncertainty and apprehensiveness, trails off in Seraph's ears, as he awaits her next words, "Do you think I made the right decision?" And this is where Seraph knew he must word his response properly to Allison.

On one hand, the unforeseen circumstances and situation of that horrendous night was no one's fault but the Alpha. The strategic and ruthlessly designed plan to psychologically torment Scott, Allison, Stiles, Lydia and Jackson that night, as well as trap them and hypnotize Scott by utilizing the werewolf hierarchy and Alpha-Beta connection in order to kill his lover and friends was unexpected to Scott and had no option to tell them the truth.

Yet, in comparison to this, the moment of truth between them having a break isn't also bad. Because Scott is suffering trauma and having trouble maneuvering this evil Alpha, as well as the Argents, but Allison is also in free will of her emotions, and needs time to think things for herself. This also applies to Scott, whom Seraph doesn't criticize him for because of the consequences and circumstances thrust onto him against his will.

Seraph gathers his thoughts rationally, inhales through his nose and glances at Allison. "To be honest, as much as I prefer to not be involved in one's domestic affairs, especially affairs that regard romantic and intimate elements, I will share you my perspective from a neutral and pragmatic standpoint." Seraph's intriguing words gives a light glimpse in Allison's eyes. She nods her head in interest, proceeding for him to continue.

"In light of the traumatic events of that night, both you and Scott, as well as the others were frightened and petrified. More for each-other due to the unknown murderer involved within our geopolitical structure of Beacon Hills. McCall made the decision to protect you from harm's way by not disclosing information with you, and only telling you in vague detail, which is flawed, but there is a reason behind his decision and that is something to be taken into account. You, after facing the aftermath of the event and discordance, coupled with the fact that you felt betrayed by his sense of dishonesty and inability to confide in you, stemmed the decision to break up with McCall by choosing self-preservation and a need for a sense of self-control in the wake of chaos." Seraph explains, earning a weak nod from Allison who has a frown on her face.

"But, neither you or McCall is solely at fault here for the decisions you both made that night, which led to the dissolution of your relationship. The two of you acted on your own perceptions, fears, and cognitive thoughts in this time, exercising free will and thinking on your feet in the terrifying scenery of chaos. Plus, McCall isn't a selfish person. There is a reason regarding his protective measures to go out the chemistry classroom to enact his plan to distract the killer in order for you to escape, even as far as locking the classroom door to prevent the murderer from murdering you and the others. It is important to recognize that assigning blame to either party in this scenario would be counterproductive and unfair. Instead of focusing on fault, it may be more constructive to view this as a learning experience for you and him." Seraph continues thoroughly, and he can see Allison's face shift from confusion, to sadness, to realization, and then understanding in a span of 10 seconds.

"At the end of the day Allison, you and McCall are teenagers, and while it maybe painful and unbearble to feel due to heartbreak, the two of you need to take time to recollect your thoughts to be able to converse again to rebuild your relationship. Neither you nor McCall deserved this heartbreak, so when the two of you are ready to talk, the two of you can speak of your current issues, and then McCall maybe ready to tell you the reason of his secrets."

He honestly didn't think his pragamtic approach would be cordial for the Argent heiress, but judging by her expression of understanding and adherence, she nodded, giving Seraph a small smile for his neutral viewpoint. It was much better than Whittemore's disconcerting response to Allison's dilemma. "Thank you, Seraph. You're right, I should give it time and gather my thoughts between me and Scott."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Preview for Chapter 7. Yes you are seeing some previews of Seraph's and Allison's acquaintances, growing into a friendship. And you will all see why very soon. Chapter 5 WILL be posted this Sunday!

May The Odds Be In Your Favour

No Pressure Tags: @hemlocksandfoxgloves , @thiamsxbitch, @ksbbb, @rhyslahey, @arewordsenough (once again, thank you), @wolfboy88, @chasing-chimeras, @mmoosen, @isaac-not-isaac, @unsanedes, @scisac, @thrillhoues, @moonraeken, @phantomraeken, @outcastpack, @princeescaluswords

[kingofangst]

Tagged by @ksbbb (I am now just seeing this and I apologize very much😩)

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

"You aren't as cold as they say." Allison smiles at Seraph. Her words, while friendly, eased his mind. He wasn't expecting the Argent heiress to produce a warming dialogue.

No Pressure Tags: @rhyslahey @thiamsxbitch @mmoosen @chasing-chimeras @isaac-not-isaac @wolfboy88 @arewordsenough @scisac @unsanedes @phantomraeken

[kingofangst]

Seraph: God, give me the patience to continue these ridiculous endeavors

Isaac: You mean to say God give me the strength

Seraph: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead

[kingofangst]

Wip Thursday (let’s pretend it’s not Saturday)

Tagged by @ksbbb 😎😎 (but pssst ksbbb...it is Saturday🤣)

This is a draft of Chapter 8 of my Teen Wolf AU series: The Wings Of An Enigmatic

The relentless ticking of the clock echoed like a haunting drumbeat, each tick amplifying the weight of the moment.

The sharp scratch of pencils against paper seemed to carve into the tense atmosphere, along with the scribbling sounds of the eraser being too loud and disturbing, mirroring the turmoil within Scott McCall.

Seraph, with his acute supernatural sense of detail, couldn't pretend to not feel and notice the subtle yet painful nuances that painted the canvas of Scott's emotional upheaval.

The audible rustling of pages turning and the steady thump of heartbeats blended into a dissonant symphony. But amidst the cacophony, Seraph discerned the discordant rhythm of Scott's own heart, a thunderous percussion of despair and heartbreak.

Seraph's heightened sensitivity allowed him a visceral experience of Scott's emotional struggle. It isn't just the rise of the full moon that will descend it's supernatural rays on the werewolf, which is his second full moon to be exact, but the emotional hormones of negativity that transpired on that dreadful Friday night between Scott, Allison, Stilinski, Lydia and Whittemore.

It wasn't just a break-up between Scott and Allison, it was a psychological unraveling, an emotional maelstrom that echoed not only in Scott's human psyche but reverberated in the primal depths of his inner wolf.

He also sensed Allison's heartbreak and confusion. While Seraph was exact that she decided to break up with Scott, he noticed that she wasn't faring well either. It was a poignant blend of conflicting emotions: sadness, confusion, hurt and doubt. This wasn't a normal kind of boyfriend and girlfriend relationship.

He realizes Scott and Allison were in love with each other. It makes logical sense as to the ranging and dreadful emotions that are spreading the room. For some odd reason, guilt began to swirl inside of Seraph's stomach, making him nauseated and holding him caged in a vice grip.

Was the guilt that he was suddenly feeling born from the consequences of the events from Friday that he tried to prevent such outcomes like this? Or was it because ever since his fallout with Isaac, he is starting to loose his touch of being cold and neutral?

His perplexed thoughts were interrupted quickly by the loud screeching of a chair, eliciting a wince from Seraph due to his heightened sensitivity before a familiar presence rushes by him and he glances up just in time to see Scott run out the classroom, his heavy panting and intense heart rate echoing in Seraph's ears.

"Mr. McCall!" Harris calls out in surprise, yet he went unacknowledged as the teen wolf never returned back inside. Not long after, Stilinski runs out to follow his best friend, earning a frustrated shout and name call from Mr. Harris.

The guilt that was cursing Seraph's soul and mind started to deepen within his psyche. Part of him is questioning why should he demonstrate care to this situation when he isn't even apart of it? Scott doesn't even know that Seraph is aware of his werewolf status.

Yet the other part of him...wants to remain on the sidelines. He may not want to help, but Scott's innocence and turmoil is what is making Seraph want to aid him as secretly as possible.

Okay so this was long a long draft. I know I was supposed to post chapter 5 on January 24th but I ended up having to take care of an emergency and then this weekend has been hectic. But I will post chapter 5 tomorrow and chapter 6 on February 2nd. Chapter 7 is a filler chapter so I decided to give you guys the canon au chapter.

No pressure tags: @rhyslahey @mmoosen @unsanedes @phantomraeken @scisac @hemlocksandfoxgloves @thiamsxbitch @arewordsenough @chasing-chimeras

[kingofangst]

Hey Everyone! I apologize I haven't been active on tumblr lately. With my most recent job at this time, I have been very busy and handling clients, plus my schedule. But not to fret, I am still working on The Wings Of An Enigmatic and I will be posting chapter 5 this Sunday!

But I have a question for you all...which should be a ship in my canon au teen wolf series⬆️⬆️

[kingofangst]

My TEEN WOLF FRIENDS...I have a question that relates to my Teen Wolf au series: The Wings Of An Enigmatic

Should Seraph be part of the Night School episode/chapter, breaking the tradition of him being observant and neutral? Or, be still observant and end up finding out about it through his premonition and slightly changes the canon episode by informing the Sheriff earlier...? VOTE

[kingofangst]

To my Teen Wolf fans, who is ready to see some Isaac Lahey angst next week in The Wings Of An Enigmatic ?

[kingofangst]

Alright, I humbly apologize for the delay, but I am presenting chapter 4 of The Wings Of An Enigmatic.

Through unfortunate time schedules, intense editing and battling procrastination I have completed and it is a very long chapter with lots of name dropping, canon characters and new characters and plus a slight premonition spoiler delving into the future seasons of Teen Wolf. Plus a brief heartbreaking angsty moment between Seraph and someone familiar.

So be prepared.

(Note: Unfortunately due to Tumblr's writing settings, I was unable to have a huge chunk of the story underlined with italics because for some odd reason, Tumblr does not have an underlined text feature. So the premonition scene is in italics sadly and only some words/number are color coded and bold to let you know hints)

Tags list for the series: @rhyslahey @phantomraeken @bendystrah @hemlocksandfoxgloves @thiamsxbitch

(If you want me to add you into the tags list, let me know and I will make sure you are updated on this series)

Chapter 4: Unpremeditated Future

"-Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."

"-Since when you became Einstein?"

"-Since when were you so interested of my input on the matter? I presumed humans were nescient."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The moment Seraph, his mother and sister reach the driveway of the estate, they see a silver 1972 Daimler Double Six parked outside the cobblestone courtyard. They all know who is home, the father of Seraph and Celes and husband of Elizabeth: Azrael Kingfisher.

“Dad is home. How wonderful. I am pretty sure his precognition must have seen your act of Valor earlier.” Seraph utters out, getting out of the car.

“Yes and despite what your father may think, he knows it would be for a good cause.” Elizabeth remarks before getting out of the car before heading to the vermillion mahogany double doors of the estate. The moment they enter the door and step into the foyer, they are greeted by a deep voice.

“Must I ask what made you pursue that courageous endeavor that was enacted in my premonition?” The trio turn to see Azrael enter with a grim expression. Elizabeth sighs at her husband’s concern. “The faint scent of blood obscures my sense of smell and it is radiating from you, darling.”

“The hambone and the bruise already healed, despite the tiny drop of blood that leaked out of the bruised wound. But I am not limping anymore nor am I vulnerable to such a minor inconvenience. Besides, it was either me or Sheriff Stilinski, and we’re both aware that a human does not bear supernatural healing factors like ours.” Elizabeth inferred while dropping her handbag on the davenport of the L-shaped designed furniture. Seraph and Celes make no room to talk as they prefer not to recall the events.

“I am very well aware, but no one I love dearly, especially my own wife, should put themselves in danger. After all we have to hide our identities with the cursed Argents in town, as well as that pugnacious and barbaric Alpha in the shadows of Beacon Hills.” Azrael cautions, “That also does not exempt the two of you.” He points at his children.

“Yes, thank you very much, dad.” Celes dryly accepts.

“Oh please, if the Alpha knew what we are, he would have exterminated us a long time ago, considering that werewolves majority of the times are no match for a-”

“My dearests,” Seraph’s words were interjected by a gentle but firm tone coming from the dining room. The clicking of heels echo as a woman with white hair tied in a neat bun, soft but striking amber eyes that were not like Azrael’s gray ones, and a skin tone with little to no wrinkles emerges from the doorway leading to the dining room. She wore a beige turtleneck with a white knee-length skirt and white heels to match the lower half of her attire. The Grandmother of Seraph and Celes, the mother of Azrael and mother-in-law of Elizabeth, and the matriarch of the Kingfisher family, Concordia Kingfisher. “Please, let us not skirmish over a courageous and brave act that ensured the safety of the Sheriff.”

The rest of the family calmed down and dutifully made their way to the Victorian dining hall with a table of many dishes. As the butler, Arnold and the housekeeper, Milene handed out the silverware and utensils for dinner, Seraph stares at the array of antipastos, primos, secondos, and dolces in the table. No sign of repulsive asparagus.

“Yes Seraph, I made sure there would be no asparagus in our dinner tonight. Despite how common it is in Italian cuisine, your abhorrence of it is well regarded.” His grandmother spoke, already aware of Seraph’s wary gaze.

“Merci Beaucoup, grand-mére. I think I will enjoy our dinner tonight, unlike the other nights.” Seraph smiles tensely, as he takes the antipasto course first, filling his plate with insalata caprese and his glass with sparkling water. Concordia rolls her eyes at her grandson’s witty response before stabbing her fork in her own plate of antipasto platter.

“May I inquire about your impressions from your parent-teacher conference, Seraph? Notwithstanding the fact that your grade-point average is at a 4.7 in Beacon Hills High I presume.” His father speaks while he sips red wine.

“Your presumption about our son’s grades is impeccable.” Elizabeth verified while she fills her plate with bruschetta and prosciutto e melone. Seraph was about to reply but was cut off by his sister’s snarky words.

“Oh yes. Albert Einstein here has such a wonderful grade-point average that he has 100s in almost all of his classes yet he is unhappy that his academic rival has a 5.0 grade point average, 3 points higher than him.” Celes mocks him, biting a piece of her bruschetta. Seraph scoffs.

“You have such a penchant for pettiness. You are better off being Lydia’s loyal servant and lackey with that incorrigible attitude.” Seraph quips while inserting a sliced tomato in his mouth.

“Because Lydia is better than you in every-”

“Anyways,” He ignores his sister’s rambling, “my grades are indeed immaculate. Therefore this determines the conclusion of this conversation.” Seraph goes back to consuming his salad. His father nods his head knowingly before engaging in filling his plate with the primo course.

“Oh, let me remind you all. Ephraim, Volumnia, and their children will be coming here in 3 weeks.” Concordia announces to the group.

“Why? We already celebrated Christmans and New Years with them. What more do they want from our presence?” Seraph questions a little insensitively. Concordia sighs out with an emotionless look.

“They are your family, Seraph. Your uncle, aunt and cousins are family that would love to see you.”

“Oh yes, family only when they want to irritate you when you want time to concentrate on important matters.” Seraph states while he stabs his fork in the salad, before sipping his drink.

“Are you only saying that because you do not want to deal with Coriolanus?” Celes asks smugly. This moron.

Coriolanus Kingfisher is the cousin of Seraph and Celes, and the son of Ephraim Kingfisher and Volumnia Kingfisher. A graduate student at Stanford University and was once a close friend of Camden Lahey. They have been inseparable for their entire childhood and adolescence, until that incident that happened in the pool at the Lahey residence with one of Seraph’s former childhood friends, Matthew Daehler. Ever since the neglect and treatment of that incident and how carefree Isaac’s older brother was, Coriolanus cut off all ties with him. His 24 year old cousin was glad he didn’t join the swimming team back then. In doing so however, Seraph severed his ties with Isaac and Matt due to the scandalous actions of Mr. Lahey at that incident. His grandmother imparted the notion of their family distancing themselves from the Laheys, the Daehlers, and anyone else who was involved in that incident along with their familial ties. Severed relations aside, his cousin tends to be teasing, charming, a douchebag, and a prankster at heart. Not to mention he tends to tease his height too, as his cousin is 6 '4 feet tall and dwarfs almost everyone in the family except his father, Coriolanus’s father and mother.

The thought of seeing his older cousin fills him with unbridled aggravation. The catalyst for a sit-com drama that makes Seraph the universe’s punching bag. The epitome of his suffering will be in three weeks. This is Injustice.

“You are aware that Diana and Clemensia would not mind you being part of our shenanigans, right? Surely they are tolerable compared to Coriolanus, even though he is tolerable to me.” Celes specifies while taking a chocolate truffle. Seraph doesn’t share the sentiment about his other cousins compared to Coriolanus.

Diana, first daughter of Ephraim and Volumnia, is not the required norm for an average female college student. No, Diana is a femme fatale and a woman who is a fluid combination of compassion and ferocity. She’s a Beacon Hills Alumni from the class of 2007, and like Seraph, she was the enigmatic queen of the school. Hence why sometimes, Seraph is compared to Diana in some of his interactions. She is not as enigmatic as she used to be thanks to experiencing college at UCLA as well as traveling abroad and only comes to see her extended family on holidays and breaks, testing her patience is a grave mistake as she will deliver cold and savage vocabulary that can break someone’s ego and spirit. She’s done it before, so it’s no surprise if she retained that side of her.

Clemensia, in contrast to her older sister, is the true definition of privileged and being a “Diva”. She is treated like a princess, often goes on shopping sprees like changing undergarments, an enormous jet-setter as she travels to luxurious destinations all over the world. Her most recent picture in the Maldives already states her wealth without her explaining it verbally. While Diana likes her used Volkswagen Beetle, and Coriolanus drives a 1967 pick-up truck he bought from an auction, Clemensia is obsessed with driving cars like Mercedes Benz, Aston Martins, and Audis. She even will wear the trendiest clothes that are currently advertised now. Yet despite all of this, Clemensia contains an empathetic and warm heart, and she isn’t hubristic of her surroundings. She keeps her supernatural status a safeguarded secret. Clemensia, unlike her older siblings, attended Devenford Prep. Therefore she is attuned to the prestige and opulence settings, plus her lavish outfits and accessories.

“Your offer raises the expectation of reciprocity. Could you please outline any specific actions or terms you have in mind?” Seraph aims a sarcastic smile at his sister while he takes a portion of lasagna. Celes sends him her own sarcastic smile.

“Of course, since payment is always required with favors. Lend me your art room for the next year and I will humbly allow you to hang out with me, Diana, and Clemensia.” Celes requests. Seraph nearly chokes on his food before staring at his sister as if she had gained 3 heads.

“You have got to be kidding me, sister. For me to procure you my private art room full of authentic art pieces and my own work is a risky deal. Not to mention your mischievous nature to have stuff missing around the estate.”

Celes glances at her brother baffled. “What makes you think I would misplace your artwork for my own art? I have never done that before.”

“Okay then, how about the time you accidentally dropped my phone in the sewers when you and I were ages in early adolescence?” Seraph questions with narrowed eyes.

“That was one time-”

“Or the time you cleaned out the attic and threw away my science project that was due in 2 days, which took a week to complete, and almost cost me my grade in middle school?”

“Okay that was an accident. I did not mean-”

“OR, during the occurrence when you had crashed mom’s car last year to test drive it because you did not follow traffic law regulations and crashed into one of the Deputy’s police cruisers and mom had to pay a hefty fine for your negligence?” Seraph asks each of the turbulent times of occurrence of his sister causing small hazardous risks.

“OKAY I GET IT!!! But this time, I will not do anything to harm or destroy your pieces in the process I obtain your art room for the next 3 months.” Celes huffs out, no longer wanting the pasta but interested in taking the cannolis. The older relatives of Azrael, Elizabeth, and Concordia have already grown used to these antics amongst Seraph and Celes so they pay no mind to it so long as it doesn’t involve cruel or hurtful phrases.

“You state that now, but I can hear your heartbeat and read your mind, and you are having anxious thoughts while your heart has a couple of upticks here and there based on your words of accord. So I am not sure if I can trust you.” Seraph berates with a smirk. Celes' eyes narrow in slight annoyance.

“Fine, is there anything I can do to appease you to let me use your art room so that I can allow you in our social party?”

“Of course, since payment is always required with favors.” Seraph glances at her smirking, mocking the very same phrase she presented him with earlier.

“Oh for the love of God-”

“Fine,” Celes relents as she cuts off her father’s exasperation. “I will offer you a two way plane ticket I received from an auction to Austria, plus with that offer is a 7 day stay in Vienna at the exclusive Hotel Das Alpen at their spacious and opulent Penthouse suite.”

Seraph hums in delight and confusion. While he admires the idea his sister could achieve such lavish offers and the ability to travel to Austria sounds extraordinary, but for his pleasure, he will bask in his sister’s defeat…

“Sounds rather extravagant. An offer that sounds so spectacular, immaculate, and nigh impossible to not accept…” He trails off while thumbing his fingers on the dark brown mahogany dining table. “However-”

“Oh do not start that. We’ve been in far too many grandiose events and places to not even care about how something is luxurious and fantastic to cast aside.” Celes cuts him off with a glare. But Seraph doesn’t stop there.

“It doesn’t sound grandiose to me. Not like the Beacon Hills Gala our family hosted back in 2010, or the Hofburg Silvesterball in Austria, in addition to the Vienna Opera Ball, or even the Bal De La Rose of Monaco within the world’s creme de la creme.” Seraph lists out cooly while Celes’ patience and desperate attempts to get her brother to accept the offer are growing thin.

“Please, can you accept this offer so I can kindly use your art room for a year?” Celes asks kindly. Bingo, dear sister.

“Yes, I humbly accept.” Seraph replies without hesitation, dumbfounding his sister. But as she sees her brother’s grin of gratification, she gives him a piercing death stare.

“Oh you swine-!”

“For Heaven's sake,” Concordia interrupts with her hands clasped in front of her face, exhaling a stressful puff, which is ironic given their grandmother’s and their own immunity to stress thanks to their supernatural biology. “Let’s redirect our focus back to our dinner if the two of you do not mind. Me, Arnold and Milene did not prepare this meal for it to be sitting here like decorum.”

“Certainly grandmother.” Seraph gleefully says while Celes offers a wordless grunt of acceptance. But he then eyes his sister with feigning innocence. “It has been a miraculous delight conducting business with you, my esteemed sister.”

“You little shit…" Celes telepathically swears vehemently to Seraph, adding more to the enigmatic teen’s smug grin. As the family continue to eat dinner peacefully, the Alpha proceeds to do it’s vengeful quest and deadly hunting against those who deserve it in the thief of the night through the howling winds of Beacon Hills.

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The first few periods of class were anything but fascinating. The whole mountain lion incident that happened on the night of parent teacher conferences, which happened 4 days ago, was swept under the rug as if it was of no importance. Typical for humans to even assess such situations.

Now it is lunchtime and he enters the cafeteria with his tupperware of rotisserie chicken, quinoa, cauliflower, and cornbread. He was even able to get the last slice of tiramisu cake this morning, to Celes’ anger as she “claimed” the last slice of dessert. As usual, he will conduct his normal routine of being observant around him and listening to anything that could pique his interest. This town of Beacon Hills, minus the supernatural assessments it produces, is profoundly lackluster. So using his supernatural hearing, he tries to find anything mildly interesting while he enjoys his meal.

Oh, how he shouldn't have done that if he would have realized it sooner.

“The who of what?" A familiar and standoffish voice snaps.

“The Beast of Gevaudan,” Allison’s reply made Seraph raise his eyebrows at the legendary mention of the French monster that murdered 100 plus people in South France that Allison’s ancestors, the Argents, or more specifically, Marie Jeanne-Valet hunted and eradicated. Henceforth the progressive tradition of having Argent women become the leaders of the influential family since the mid 18th century. He continues to listen to the conversation.

“A quadrupedal wolf-like monster prowling the Auvergne in South Dordogne areas of France from the year 1764 to 1766. Le Béte killed over 100 people becoming so infamous that the King Louis XV sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.” He hears Allison explain from her reading of her family’s historical biography.

“Boring.” Seraph rolls his eyes at Lydia’s faux-ignorant nonchalance. He knew the strawberry-blonde queen bee is jumping up and down like a jackrabbit internally at such inquisitive information.

“The church declared it a messenger of Satan. Cryptozoologists believe it was a hoofed creature called a Mesonychid.” Mesonychids are long extinct. The ancestors of wolves, dogs, and other types of canine creatures. While I would not be fazed if there were those who could shapeshift into one, it would be a odd phenomenon, similar to how werewtiches exist-

Seraph’s thoughts ended there when he began to feel an odd tingling sensation in his brain. An odd and rambunctious one, like the feeling is disorienting him and crafting his vision into such obnoxious shapes and lines. Why is there a tinge of water-colored blue in his vision-

He didn’t have time to process until his vision suddenly went black.

He felt odd and fluid, as if he were in a dreamscape. He opened his eyes and the sight before him was a perplexing conundrum. Through his lens, his vision shifted to an entirely different locale. Instead of the cafeteria he is supposed to be in where the rest of the students are, he is outside on a field. No, it’s his school’s lacrosse field. His eyes travel from left to right at the transparent scenery in front of him despite the nighttime sky. The field isn’t empty either. He heard chants, cheers, yells which means that there is a game going on while the Spectators observe. Seraph, through his dreamscape vision that is a myriad of pandemonium, he watches his school, Beacon Hills High going up against…Devenford Prep. Wait, pardon? Is this a vision? A premonition?

If so, this is a premonition he has never foreseen. Why is it showing him something that has to do with a lacrosse game? He thought that Scott was already gaining better control of his werewolf abilities and he seemingly found his anchor, which is Allison. Something isn’t- wait, that's Scott?

Scott, who appears to have shorter hair and a year or two older than the Scott he sees everyday look apprehensive, as if he is either expecting everything to collapse, or if something goes according to plan. It seems that’s not the only perplexing issue in this very bewildering premonition of his. Beside him, is Stiles who appears a year or two older as Scott is compared to the one Seraph sees everyday, which is weirder now that his hair grew from the caesar cut he had. Yet out in the field it is semi-chaotic. Aside from grabbing the attention of a much older Scott and Stiles, Seraph observes as best as he could, with confusion when he sees a female lacrosse player on Beacon Hills High team knock down a Devenford Prep player having the number 28 with suspiciously supernatural strength. Using his heightened eyesight, he is able to notice a fiery shield surrounding the girl, in the form of a fox.

A Kitsune…that is perplexing. But he doesn't have time to investigate this matter when the girl is removed from the game and she flings her helmet off in fury, heading inside the school. A younger girl follows after her with short blond hair and dark blueish eyes. The game continues at a rapid pace, Beacon Hills losing to Devenford Prep 1-5. But then he sees Scott instantly run to the school in a frenzy while leaving Stiles, the younger lacrosse player with the number 9 on his jersey and other lacrosse players to the mercy of the snobbish prep school players. Seraph crosses his arms, what is the point of this premonition? To help Beacon Hills High win a lacrosse game against Devenford Prep in the future? To see a Kitsune he has never seen before lose control of her powers on the field? What is the purpose of this puzzle he is having such difficulty figuring out?

Speak of the Devil and he shall come.

After watching the somewhat boring game that is still befuddling the enigmatic, something grim and malevolent entered his premonition. The shifting of the wind and a terrifying aura spooks him, and he glances just in time to see a quadrupedal monster with black fur and really icy blue eyes that were pupiless wreaking havoc on a school bus. Seraph’s eyes widened in pure shock. The sounds of cry and horror echo the field as the Beast Of Gevaudan exposes itself to the crowd of humans and supernaturals alike. But it's the devilish appearance that causes mass hysteria amongst the student body and an unofficial evacuation of teenagers running away from the bleachers and into the school, fluidly passing him.

This isn't a premonition for a lacrosse game to beat. This is a premonition to warn him of the near future. The near future where the Beast will resurrect and rise up again to attack Beacon Hills. A feat that is impossible unless it is through sorcery, spiritual possession, unholy witchcraft, or exorcism. Seraph watches with bated breath as the Beast climbs on top of the dismantled school bus, as students run for their lives, lacrosse sticks, helmets, snacks, water bottles, and even lip glosses dropping to the concrete ground.

His eyes travel to the field through the mass of fearful teenagers, and he gazes as the very same teenager with their lacrosse gear on and the number 9 on them, charges across the lacrosse field towards the Beast of Gevaudan, with his golden beta eyes and claws as he ignores the voice and urge of Stiles, which for some eerie reason, Seraph couldn't quite hear as Stiles voice came out like being underwater. Yet oddly enough he can hear the screams and shouts of students clearly.

His heart pounds against his chest rapidly as he sees the young teenager leap upwards with golden beta eyes and claws, attacking the Beast. Suddenly Seraph’s vision goes black.

He wakes up in a frenzy when he sees he is now located in the dark and chaotic hallways of Beacon Hills High, his eye vision still translucent and blueish. He tried shaking his head to get out of this disturbing premonition but it wouldn't let him, it was forcing him to see the diabolical hysteria that the Beast is causing. Just what on Earth, or who on Earth resurrected Le Béte in the future? What were they trying to prove?

The sound of a vicious roar echoes through the dreamscape hallway and to his surprise, Scott is propelled through a wall with the demonic beast hot on his trail. Seraph runs to the site where they are fighting only to see Scott save a few innocent human classmates before being dragged by the Beast again and fling out in the hallway. He runs through the panicked bodies to investigate while the auras of fear and fright sicken him albeit not feeling any physical movement nor can they see him. Scott and the Beast move elsewhere as he can see his classmates droplets of blood on the white tiled floor implying he is taking violent hits.

This gets Seraph to sprint after the Beast even though the premonition only allows him to see the events laid before him to foresee. He is trying to catch up to the vicious confrontation and is feeling something he usually never felt before and this was only his premonition. He was feeling concern, and it was concern for the future that is intertwining with this darkness. The moment he opens the double set doors is when his premonition fades to black.

Now Seraph finds himself in the transparent hue of the school's library. Despite the intense and dire subsequent changes of each premonition and his heart racing against his chest at a high paced event such as this, he observes anticipatively, seeing familiar faces of students escape the dilapidated library or hide behind bookshelves while it is being attacked. He sees a boy, human with chestnut-brown hair and blue eyes, skittishly hiding behind a bookshelf with a few other students. Seraph couldn't believe what he was foreseeing in his vision, the Beast of Gevaudan is causing destruction and chaos in its wake while exposing the supernatural to the human population. Le Béte lands behind his transparent form and roars, just as a louder roar pierces from Scott. Seraph glances at the teen but a flabbergasted expression is aimed at the older Scott, who instead of golden eyes belonging to a beta, it's blood red eyes that belong to an alpha while Scott's fangs and claws bare threateningly at the Beast. Scott’s roar was so deafening that it made Seraph cover his ears and he was unable to handle the pressure as his vision began to show black dots before fully cloaking them. Along with the sounds of claws clashing and bodies slamming against shelves and tables.

Seraph…

Seraph…

"SERAPH!!!"

The very familiar voice snaps him out of that painful and disturbing premonition and his eyes open anxiously to see Danny staring at him worryingly while Lydia, standing up behind him, is gazing at him in pure astonishment. But he felt a warm hand on his shoulder and he glanced up to see compassionate, brown eyes and a face that was very concerned for him with fluffy brown-brown hair. It was Scott who was helping him.

"Hey are you okay? You're pale." Scott, the simple fact that Seraph secretly knows (not to Scott’s awareness) what Scott is currently going through and has bigger problems regarding his adjustment to being a werewolf. But here he is, beside him checking to see if he's okay and if he needs medical attention.

Putain! C'est embarrassant. He must have heard my racing heartbeat from that premonition. Shit!

"Are you alright? Usually you are the composed one here but to see you pale and shivering, is more unnerving than confusing." The voice of Lydia speaks. Seraph looks around and sees half the cafeteria including Allison, Stiles, and the teenager two tables down with dark skin and very short hair, is watching him in confusion. Seraph stands up, to Scott's and Danny's concern.

"Whoa- wait you were just-"

"I appreciate your concern, both of you." He tells Scott and Danny. "I will go to the bathroom to clear my head. Ciao." The enigmatic teen departs awkwardly, leaving behind many confused students. Scott just nods and shrugs simultaneously before heading back to the table with Stiles.

"Dude, what just happened? What possessed Kingfisher?" The Sheriff’s son questions Scott.

"I don't know. He didn't like he was being possessed, it felt more like he was in pain." Scott tells Stiles. "His heartbeat, his emotions, I sensed them, and he was enduring a horrible pain of some sort." Stiles hears out the whispered segment of his best friend's reply.

"He looked like he was suffering from a migraine that came from hell." The Caucasian teen muses out. "Never saw the icy enigmatic king go through something like that. That was…weird."

"Okay why is everyone calling him a 'icy enigmatic king'? Why is that a title or nickname for him? Is everyone here intimidated by him?" The werewolf asks, just very baffled by the school seeing him as that.

"Scotty, are you kidding me? Do you not know the reputation and aristocratic flair he holds in our school? He earned that nickname or whatever after ridiculing and verbally destroying the entire senior grade boys' egos when he was a freshman. Plus he holds popularity in a way and has a academic rivalry with Lydia-"

"I know the last part," Scott interjects Stiles, preventing him from going on a logorrhea of dialogue. "It's just that he didn't look too good. He looked…frightened."

Stiles eyebrows raise abruptly at Scott’s reply with Seraph being frightened.

"I don't hate him, I feel like he hates me for being a chatterbox and ruining his ''work time" for being excessively annoying or with my presence around I don't know." Stiles let's out with a sigh. "But I have to teach you to master your werewolfiness."

Their conversation to help Scott continues in hushed whispers.

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Harsh footsteps clatter against the white tiles of the school, the very same ones he sees everyday that will soon be filled with students scrambling in panic and fear in the near future.

It lacks logical evidence. Why did he get such a severely critical egregious premonition? One that conveyed him the impending danger of the Beast of Gevaudan who will soon cause havoc and rampage on innocent teenagers in a high school during a large lacrosse game?

What caused the Beast's rise? On a more serious inquiry, how did Scott become an alpha? Did he…kill the Alpha that turned him into a werewolf and gained his powers? It isn't adding up. He doesn't qualify Scott to be a killer even if he is a werewolf.

Who was the young player with the number 9 uniform? The beta werewolf who attacked the Beast? The Asian girl who is a Kitsune? People in the near future? Because despite his indifference and carelessness of who others are, that doesn't mean he doesn't remember a face. His photographic memory is too keen for that-

His pestering and unquenchable thoughts were cut when he suddenly clashes into someone. But due to his supernatural strength and stability, he remains still. The sound of someone gasping slightly and a thud to the floor makes Seraph glance down to see a familiar face.

"Damn. What the hell are you made of, bricks?" Isaac Lahey asks, his voice a rough mixture of annoyance and apprehension.

"I am sorry for that." Seraph apologizes. Dread and angst coil within his abdomen. This is the second time he bumped into his ex-childhood friend. "Let me help-"

"Why? You ghost me at any chance you had in school. You're about to go back to doing that after you help me up." Isaac declares with snark, getting up on his feet. The slight bruise by his eye is visibly showing. Seraph tries to ignore it.

"I have my reasons for doing what I did."

"Yeah, reasons that you clearly didn't give me and left me unable to figure out."

"As if you could comprehend the strictly strategized reason I carefully planned out. It is none of your concern." Seraph replies coldly, his patience running thin. Isaac sends him a vehement expression.

"I-I don't understand…what did I do to…deserve your iciness? Why did you stop talking to me? Was it because you decided to cut ties because you were rich and intelligent?" Isaac probes, sounding small and anxious.

"Lahey I do not have the patience to properly assess this right now. I have important matters to attend to. " Seraph cuttingly implies. Ignoring the remorse swirling inside of him.

"You even call me by my last name instead of Isaac. You don't have the patience to do it or you don't want to because you want to feel better than everyone else?" The tall teen asks, testing his luck.

"Are you going to continue your nescient skirmish? Because I am not the one who keeps his abuse wrapped up in lies or pretends to think he isn't a victim when he is a victim." Seraph hears himself answer back before it's too late and his eyes widen slightly at how harsh he sounded. He glances up to see Isaac’s aghast and crestfallen expression plastering his roughed up face, and his eyes shining with water.

Seraph never says his brutal and honest thoughts out loud to prevent reactions like this. He usually has a well thought out response he carefully plans. But that premonition is discombobulating his brain. He did not mean to hurt isaac.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to respond like-"

"Don't bother. Now I know where we stand." Isaac hisses out between anger and sadness before shoulder checking Seraph and out of his sight. The enigmatic exhales a sigh of frustration. He didn't mean to respond to Isaac like that. It wasn't his intention to throw his abuse and pain in his face.

Damn it, since when has a harrowing premonition disrupt his train of thoughts and brain activity so severely that his cold and icy words let out in a spree of carelessness?

Has Isaac always tried to understand why he severed ties with him? Has Matt also tried understanding why or was he too focused in his recovery from trauma to ask?

Guilt clouds his mind and abdomen, Seraph stares at the floor in disappointment. That shouldn't have been said to a childhood friend he knew for 12 years. It should have ended differently instead of being cruel and callous.

Now he may have lost any chance to recover that once golden friendship he shared with Isaac.

Suddenly, the urge to continue classes felt fruitless today. He turns right and heads to the main office to have himself go home today

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Ouch! I wrote the ending with angst. Sorry, not sorry. (But I am truly sorry for Isaac😢😢 Seraph you jerk.)

But what did you all notice from the chapter? The foreshadowing? The unmentioned yet familiar characters? The first ever interaction between Scott and Seraph? Or the amount of name drops and familiar names you read? Let me hear your thoughts, feedbacks and criticism?

Also, what are the Kingfishers? What is Seraph's supernatural identity?

Chapter 5 will be release the following Monday. Have fun figuring out the dilemma😈

[kingofangst]

Some moments I thought of as light hearted and slice of life, away from the upcoming angsty events in my Teen Wolf au fanfic...

Isaac: You know...I've been thinking lately...

*Seraph side-eyes him while holding a violin*

Isaac: What if the Nemeton is just a façade for an almighty supernatural God that's just watching us? What if we are the trial runs of said God who wants to see how werewolves, kitsunes, banshees, and the rest can live?

Seraph: Isaac-

Isaac: Maybe the Nemeton is the God. Maybe all the supernaturals were created by the Nemeton-

Seraph: For the sake of both of our sanities, I'm going to have to ask you to stop. Don't develop anymore nescient theories

[kingofangst]

Some more lighthearted moments and a scenario I thought of:

Stiles: What is with your use of metaphors and similes? Who died and named you Aristotle?

Seraph: Who died and named you king of dry wit? You'd be more attractive if you knew how to utilize your mouth better

Scott: Why? Just why are you like this?

Seraph: I am akin to a labyrinth, a captivating enigma of complexities in the veil of ambiguity

Isaac: Are you still upset over the fact of your 4th grade valentine that broke your heart?

*For the first time since 4th grade, Seraph's finesse collapsed once more by none other than Isaac Lahey*

[kingofangst]

Chapter 5 Teaser

"-Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."

"-Since when did you became Einstein?"

"-Since when were you so interested of my input on the matter? I presumed humans were nescient."

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HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!!! 🎄🎄🎄🎅🏽🎅🏽🎅🏽🎁🎁🎁❄️❄️❄️ I am here to unleash a teaser of Chapter 5 of my Teen Wolf series: The Wings Of An Enigmatic. I know it has been a couple of months since I last posted anything regarding this series but not to worry I am committed to writing this series out for my readers.

This teaser is just a nice and heartwarming flashback of Seraph's and Isaac's childhos for the upcoming ansgty moment in Isaac's point of view after Seraph's vehement comment in the last chapter. So as a long wait, here is the teaser of a sweet childhood memory of how they met, with Matt as the bridge of that extension and his inclusion of being another childhood friend.

Tagging: @rhyslahey @thiamsxbitch @isaac-not-isaac @unsanedes @phantomraeken @mmoosen

@rhyslahey this is my Christmas gift to you. Enjoy🎄🎄🎁🎁

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(Flashback - 10 years ago…)

Shouts and chatters of kids in the colorful classroom felt a tad bit intimidating. The lemon and oak scent permeated the classroom, filling his nostrils while the sun illuminated the room. Despite him being ironically the tallest 6-year-old in the 1st Grade, seeing so many of them playing, coloring a crayon book, being rowdy with each other as sneakers and chairs squeaked on the waxed tiled floors, made little Isaac feel smaller. The only reassurance is that he sees Matt drawing a picture and absentmindly talking with someone…another kid with light sunkissed skin…who was creating a vertically shaped masterpiece of Lego blocks vividly styled as a building to have foundation and support. The kid beside the intricate puzzles of blocks was someone that Matt became friends with this weekend. 

Isaac takes a closer look at the kid and he notices how orderly and noble the kid is acting. With combed hair, tailored white long sleeve button down shirt, followed by black dress shorts, white ribbed calf socks, and black loafers. He looked like a kid who was a genius combined with the flair and fashion sense of a 1940’s child. A rich kid in basic terms. 

“Isaac! Hey Isaac!” The excited tone of Matt reached his hears, standing up abruptly to see him. “Come quick, there’s someone you gotta meet!” The little grubby hands grabs Isaac’s much softer ones, dragging him forward towards the genius-like child. “Isaac, meet my new friend, Seraph. Seraph, this is Isaac, my best friend since daycare!” Matt’s cheerful declaration did not solve the newfound nervousness Isaac developed as the kid, Seraph, stares at him with gray eyes. Gray eyes that held mystery in them, that looked cold and aloof, that could literally scare a kid and have them scram immediately. Yet the innocence in them was visible and they were shining with curiosity. How did Matt become friends with this one?

The ambient noise of mindless chatter and cheers from the other kids served as the contrasting backdrop of the uncomfortable silence between Isaac and this debonair kid. A pin drop could have resonated loudly between them. Seraph’s eyes seemingly judging him, eyeing him like he was an experiment that needed to be tested. Seraph lets out a small puff of air, and then he parts his lips.

“So you’re the best friend that Matthew here excitedly chatted about and wanted me to meet? I do find your bravery and choice of friends admirable and intriguing.” The professional and intelligent tone of the boy was unbelievable. How did this kid talk like that? No, why did this kid talk like that? He is speaking as if he were a full-sized adult, it baffled and spooked Isaac. “I also wanted to meet you as well and request if I can be your friend too. Can I…Isaac?” 

Despite Seraph’s confident tone, he senses a slight uncertainty at the end of his question, along with the innocence lacing the child’s voice, as if Seraph felt like he was scaring him away. He wasn’t scaring him, in fact he was captivated by the way Seraph was talking and…whatever Seraph was building, which looks like a three-dimensional construction of a building that is entirely made out of lego. Not a single impairment within the foundation. 

“I am sorry, but if I am scaring you Isaac, then I understand if you do not wish for me to be your friend-”

“Wait, Seraph-”

“Um no! No y-you aren’t scaring me…it’s just that Matt here is the only friend I really talk to…” Isaac trails off in shyness, kicking his feet on the tiled floor. “I don’t really talk to the other kids in this class.”

“I see,” Seraph hums, pausing at the playful atmosphere before him. His eyes scatter to see the different kids that are of their ages, playing with toys, stuffed animals, etc. Isaac felt that Seraph was different. He saw that Seraph was different, by the way he looked, the way he spoke, the way those gray eyes observed the room like a hawk. He was very perceptive and for someone who is 6 years old, already advanced and ahead of himself, Matt and the rest of the class. “I suppose we find ourselves in similar circumstances, both not forging connections with our peers or engaging in social interactions within our class, excluding Matt of course.”

The unexpected combination of this kid’s appearance coupled with the swift and adult-like articulation of his words left Isaac puzzled. Just what kind of 1st Grader talks like that? It did make Isaac more interested in the well dressed child who now has his hands folded neatly on his desk surveying the scene before him.

“Yeah Zac, um Seraph talks like that alot and while it does sound weird, this is his way of talking to other people.” Matt butts in, his face contorting a odd expression. The privileged youngster tilts his head in confusion. 

“It’s the way I present myself and communicate. Is there something wrong with my wording and how I converse?” Seraph asks, and despite how sharp and voidless his gray eyes were perceiving to be, Isaac could see hints of nervousness in those orbs. The dapper boy looked composed and concealed with a flair of affluence and suave, yet he could sense just how odd and out of place Seraph felt, just like Isaac. 

“My name’s Isaac, which Matt already told you but just in case y-you forgot. Nice to meet you, and I wanna become friends with you too.” Isaac holds out his hand for a shake, a dopey smile on his lips. Seraph looks at the hand, then up to Isaac’s face, before eyeing his hand again. Then he glances back up and suddenly there is a sight to behold in front of him. To Isaac at first, he though kids like Seraph would never laugh and smile due to their aloofness and callous nature. But Seraph’s faint smile is an anomaly Isaac witnesses, but the most peculiar thing was how bright Seraph’s eyes seem to be from this. He could have also sworn he saw the child’s eyes give out an aqua blue hue within them before shifting back to gray, but he couldn’t tell. Maybe that was the sun’s reflection in the room and it did that to his eyes. Seraph shakes the former’s hand with that faint smile being replayed over and over. 

“Seraph Kingfisher. Even though by now, Matthew here must have relayed you my legal entity already but I am merely letting you know who I am at your request of friendship and getting to know you. After all, you and I are alike when it involves anti-social tendencies.” Seraph explains too much for Isaac’s brain to process. 

“You forgot about me being here, too.” 

“My apologies, and let’s not forget Matthew. In this particular sense, you serve as the bridge to our new friendship and the expansion of a broader, diplomatic relationship to me and Isaac’s emerging friendship, contributing to your more social disposition.” Seraph replies to Matt’s jest.

“Sometimes I wonder how do you talk like that.”

“My parents raised me with class and manners. It’s proper etiquette, and a sense of code for respect and to treat others the way you want to be treated,” Isaac could only stare at how dutiful and respectful Seraph is with the intelligent and proper language he spoke with the inclusion of professional body language. Seraph was like a walking book of knowledge. 

“Is something amiss, Isaac? You seem quite parched and dazed.” Seraph’s straightforward question startles the young curly haired boy.

“Oh no—it’s nothing. It’s just…I am kind of happy you don’t see me as a kid who is a little taller than most of the kids here. And…I am happy we’re friends now.” Isaac stammers out, gaining confidence in at the end of his sentence.

“So am I Isaac, and no there is nothing wrong with you being a tall 6-year-old. To me, I concur that you have been born with blessed genes that make you an able body person.” Seraph compliments, gazing at him softly. “While Matt here is artistic and sociable. An ambivert with a curious and thoughtful personality.”

That compliment made Matt shuffle his feet, a sight Isaac only sees when Matt gets shy or embarrassed. “Um thank you, Seraph.”

Isaac returns his gaze back to the affluent elementary kid, who is now switching the Lego between the hand constructed building. There was something about Seraph that made him admiring and cool to look at. Was it how he was dressed? His posture? How he was easily able to build a Lego building in real world detail? The way he was speaking to him? He didn’t know, nor could he make an accurate decision on what he felt, but all he did know was that he didn’t want to separate from Seraph. He wanted to be best friends with Seraph just like he’s best friends with Matt. Because he can see just how different Seraph was from the others. 

Pursing his lips together, Isaac sits beside Seraph. “Can I…play with the Lego? Help you build this building?” His voice comes out soft and shy, despite having just become friends with him 5 minutes ago. 

The boy in question glances at Isaac, his gray eyes boring into Isaac’s blue ones, with a gentle gaze that held a touch of bewilderment, contrasting how sharp and cutthroat they looked. It suddenly dawned on him that he might be treading on delicate grounds, the perplexed expression from Seraph signalling a possible misstep in their evolving rapport.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have asked if you wanted to play with me if you wanted to play-”

“No,” The interjection of Seraph cuts off his next words, “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never had anyone inquire or offer to build something with me, and that is the reason.”

He nods at the former’s response slowly, before his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “Not even Matt? I mean I know he likes to draw but he’s friendly to ask.” He points to their friend who shrugs.

“I am not really good with Legos, or building something huge like Seraph’s building here.” It’s Matt’s response that Isaac hears. He hears the other kid shuffle in their seat. “Perhaps I can teach you, Matt.”

Seraph speaks to the aforementioned boy who glances back. “I can even help teach you as well Isaac so that you can be able to build impressive toy architects such as this example.” The other two boys look at Seraph in awe, as if they have just seen a video game on the window-sill and as if it’s calling their names to purchase it.

“Sure, I wanna learn how to build!”

“Um, I guess so…I mean will it be hard to build it because…” The shy boy trails off looking at Seraph’s design, “mines isn’t gonna come out like yours.”

“That is the exact reason why I stated I will teach you how to build a complete lego set.” Seraph sends him a wry grin, snickering while finding Isaac’s boldness entertaining. Isaac’s cheeks flush in embarrassment at his words.

“There is a saying: practice makes perfect. Hence, I will be helping you, so you can learn and master how to build a three-dimensional building, such as my design concept.” The intellectual words, followed by a formal tone of proper punctuation echoes to both Isaac and Matt. Well more Isaac. He sees just how amazing his new friend is, even wanting to teach him how to build a set of blocks just for fun. 

Three 6 year-olds in their own world, learning from their new friend on how to build an actual building out of legos. To everyone else, they were just playing blocks. But to Isaac, it was a new friendship, a bond that felt warm, contrasting the icy gray eyes of his new friend. He was never good at making friends honestly speaking, his introverted personality made things difficult since he was in daycare with Matt, who became his first friend out of sheer courage.

 

But Seraph…he was different. Different than any kid in the 1st grade, and it wasn’t because how he dressed, it’s how quiet but observant he was, how smart yet proper he was, how intimidating yet soft he was, and he could have easily said no to him for playing. But…he didn’t, he even surprised Isaac by saying he never had anyone asked him to play with him or build with him before, and to many other kids in their classroom he looked frightening because of his eyes and stone cold face, but not to Isaac. 

To 6 year-old, introverted and shy Isaac, he was mysterious and alluring. Plus, he gave Isaac something he never had before: confidence. Because he never would think he’d be in this kid’s presence without feeling shy and scared by his icy looks of condemnation and judgement, but here he is, smiling and laughing with Seraph who is sitting between him and Matt.

And…6 year-old Seraph was sporting a smile of his own. Isaac once again turns his head to the former. “Hey, can I call you Raph instead?”

Now, it was Seraph’s turn to be surprised. Isaac though he stepped too far again and taking advantage of his newfound friendship. 

“Yes, you may call me Raph, a shortened version of my name.” The aforementioned kid just continues to shock and impress Isaac more and more. “Only if I can request to call you Zac.”

Isaac smiles at that nickname that Matt gives him, now being asked by Seraph. “Deal.”

(Flashback End - Present Day)

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SO, what did you guys think? Now you see how Isaac and Seraph know each-other. Don't worry, that will not be the last moment of their flashbacks and I have a lot of build up for these two and their close friendship that is parting on the seams. Will they get back that golden friendship? Only time will tell? Also, I wonder if anyone was able to see the hint of Seraph's eyes being reflected by the Sun within a milisecond from Isaac's pov.

Thank you so much for reading and chapter 5 will be posted this Wednesday. I will also create a Masterlist for this series to make finding the chapters easier.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!🎄🎄🎄🎅🎅🎅🎁🎁🎁❄️❄️❄️

[kingofangst]

Isaac: Your house reminds me of the abandoned Belton House

Seraph: Yes, my great-grandparents were intricate in designing a family estate based off of that

Isaac: *staring at him with concern* Are you and your family running some sort of cult?

Seraph: *Baffled* What!? No what-

Isaac: For a mansion this big, I would be unnerved if you are singing Kumbaya while committing sacrifice rituals

Seraph: For the love of God we don't do that

Isaac: Then why the fuck is there a painting of Hades in your room!?

Seraph: It's art you imbecile!

Isaac: Raph we can't be friends anymore if you are in a cult

Seraph: Sometimes I wonder how are we even friends

[kingofangst]

Facts of Seraph Kingfisher

1. Has a GPA of 4.75, just under Lydia Martin

2. Has earned a title in the school named "Icy Enigmatic King" due to roasting an entire grade of seniors when he was a freshman

3. He is biracial and bisexual, has a few preferences but nothing too serious. He's 5'11 1/2 feet

4. He likes to wear preppy and dark academia fashion. He dislikes sporty wear.

5. He hates asparagus and vinegar.

6. He plays violin, piano, and flute. He can also create art.

7. He wants to be a Life and Health Insurance Broker

8. His childhood friends were Isaac Lahey and Matt Daehler. (They used to be childhood friends😔)

And that's all folks

(For now)