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01/30/2023 03:06 PM
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she wanted to scream her lungs out.
allison argent    these violent delights  "If that's the case, then why shouldn't it be I who guards you?" allison’s remarks are less a demand for truth than an echo of interest that falls wrongly between them. everything has been unusual since she awakened from her death, she forgets her intentions while her body recalls. the draw of the bow string,\s the defensive reflexes,
the disobedience, but every time she says something or does something rashly without thinking, she is left with the question of why. She has a hazy memory of her prior existence, and in those recollections, she does not seem to be the sort of person who would be sheltered but rather to be driven out into danger. " I am grateful. " It is real and another response that occurs without conscious thought. She is a shell, with one-half of her soul brought back from somewhere in order to satisfy a void.
She recalled this. The words of Dream Allison reached her as she stood off to the side, where she was unseen and unobserved by everyone else. She had no idea why she ended herself here occasionally when she fell asleep, dream visions jumbled and hazy, but she watched her last minutes in complete stillness like she had done so many times before. When she glanced up at a guy who was her first love, there was a sense of calm that descended over her dream-self at the same time that there was worry for a girl who she could hardly remember. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, the taste of sour vinegar filled her lips, and she wanted to scream her lungs out. She retreated, unable to bear to witness what was happening this time. Because of these dreams, she was able to feel the most connection to the person she had been before her passing, the emptiness inside of her being filled by the unconscious notion that another person had of who she was to them. It was the sensation of having lost something over and over again that made getting up in the morning so much more difficult.
the one she loved, the one whose well-being she wanted to confirm before she could bring herself to accept her own mortality. Allison listened to her friend sob as she fell to the ground, and just as she reached out to touch Scott, she began to fade away until it was just Allison and the shadow of a boy lying on the floor. Was this scott who had the dream? He was the only one she could make out with any degree of clarity.
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01/28/2023 12:09 PM
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Back to You.
allison argent these violent delights She gets back on her feet and looks through the boxes around her for a notepad and something to write with. It is not worth the risk for her to try to keep everything in her brain because there are too many things for her to monitor, too many potential catastrophes to prevent, and too many people who need her assistance. What if she leaves anything important behind? Or is it possible that the longer she remains here, the memories start to slip away?
Allison gives a knowing nod to herself. First, she must record all she can remember on paper, just in case the passage of time causes her memories to become hazy or even completely evaporate. After that, she can work out the remainder of this situation. She begins with the timeline that she has been using for the past few years in her head. If tomorrow is the first day of school, then Laura has already passed away, Peter has already assumed the alpha role, and Scott has already been bitten. Derek is already at Beacon Hills or is very close to being there. Allison is still determining the precise time when he showed up in the city. Lydia continues to behave as though she is an airhead to divert attention. She is currently seeing Jackson, who is still struggling with abandonment issues and behaving offensively. However, that was ingrained in his nature from the beginning. Stiles will likely start piecing together what happened to Scott in the not-too-distant future. And at the same time, as she was writing everything down, the memories were running through her head. Every time Scott says, "I love you," each and every teeny-tiny second. she experienced. She makes a mental note on her list while leaning back in her chair and pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes. She is suffering from a throbbing headache and extreme exhaustion due to all that has happened tonight.
First, Allison comes up with a plan. She feels ragged at the edges, like she's been stretched too thin, weary, and trembling. Her unsteadiness has become even more severe since she passed away...or was taken...or whatever else may have transpired in the previous few weeks. The past few weeks have not precisely been restful in any way. Tonight is not the time to go off half-cocked and attract attention she does not require because hunters, werewolves, and wild alphas are rampaging around Beacon Hills.
On the other hand, Beacon Hills is not the place for her to go off half-cocked. This indicates that she needs to get some weapons as soon as possible. She wants her bow, but wearing it in public would draw too much attention to her. She does not want her parents to ask questions to which she does not have the answers since she does not yet know what she will do regarding the situation with her parents. Her parents are not at a point in their lives where they are able to accept the idea that werewolves do not inherently behave horribly. Even though he is a stickler for the rules, her father does not consider werewolves to be human. She will have to deal with it at some point in the future, but for the time being, she cannot confront the gravity of dealing with that situation.
She is the first one to dress. It was dark, and the pants and jacket were simple to move in. She searches silently among the boxes strewn about her room to locate her hiking boots or tennis shoes. After some time, she looks under her desk and finds a package with a pair of black tennis shoes stuffed inside of it. She reaches for them and puts them on before tiptoeing over to the door.
Allison gets down on her knees to remove the case, and as she does so, she releases the clasps and carefully lets the lid drop to the floor. She gives a little grin, which is more of a twitch of her lip than anything else, and gently runs her hands over her bow. Allison is being cautious with it out of respect for it. She moves to pick it up but pauses as she realizes there is no place for her to conceal it in her current location. Carrying a bow in such a way is far too apparent; it will attract glances, inquiries, and attention that she does not require at best and will identify her as a Hunter to anybody who is knowledgeable about the subject at worst. She pulls her bow out of its case and places it on the ground with extreme caution before opening the second compartment of her case. She stores a few smaller items, such as sharpeners, spare strings, and a little knife set that was a gift from her father in that compartment. Once she had reached a level of comfort with the bow, he gave her them and encouraged her to try them out. The previous version of Allison had disliked them because she thought them to be cumbersome and clumsy compared to the grace she displayed with her bow, but now? Allison takes out two of the knives and juggles them in her palm before putting them back in the sheath. Now, Allison has put her life in danger more than once, has been willing to give her life for her friends, and has gone through the training required to become a Hunter. Although the hours of practice have worn away at the muscle memory, the information has been recovered. Just before she goes, she detours her notebooks to add to her list the task of putting herself through Hunter training.
She needed to reach Scott. Before everything went wrong, only one person could assist her because of the migraines before her memory completely vanished, and she swiped. She was aware of it. It never failed to circle back around to Scott. It was Scott all along. It was always going to come back around to Scott in the end. It was essential for her to communicate with Scott. Irrespective of whether or not they were involved in a romantic relationship. Someone who was thoroughly familiar with her.
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01/19/2023 01:01 PM
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sick of being protected.
allison argent these violent delights Allison could almost feel a twinge of guilt for cutting Scott out of her life...for cutting them all out of her life like severed limbs, but she knew that it was the right thing to do. It was still necessary—especially now, when anyone finding out would spark the same type of suffocating concern - as it had been when she woke up; in fact, it was even more necessary. She is not about to allow anyone to become even more protective on her behalf, as she does not know what would be worse: her father's suspicion, Scott's concern, or the rest of the pack tiptoeing around her and watching her as if she could die if she took a breath the wrong way. She is sick of always being protected and pampered; it is causing more harm than good, and she wishes that they could see that. She hoped they would stop coddling and protecting her.
Even though she can understand Scott's frustrations, she has her own. It is a downward spiral that leads directly to crap, and while she can understand Scott's frustrations, she also has her own. Allison makes a slight movement with her hand, her fingers pressing down on a couple of bruises that are starting to heal. They continue to hurt, which is a reminder from her own pressure, but she continues to exert more pressure until she experiences a dull pain that covers her like a blanket and is strangely reassuring.
She closes her eyes and focuses on the problem at hand for a moment before opening them to look directly at Scott. She pauses for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry I didn't answer," with a trace of regret in her voice. "I had things I needed to deal with, and I was a little tired of everyone "checking in" on me," she continues. She admitted it, but her tone also had an undercurrent of accusation.
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12/11/2022 12:22 PM
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Enchanted.
 Allison could see that Scott was in a state of shock; she didn't blame him for it since she was in the same condition when she first learned about everything. She had prepared herself for an angry response from him, if not directed at her, then at her father. She was upset with him herself, and she planned to find another place to stay for a time rather than go back to their previous apartment or wherever her father had been residing since she was said to have died. She believed that he had been keeping her father in denial about her disappearance.
"You don't?" She inquired softly while attempting to suppress a grin. "You're not mad? I really wish to make things different. I feel terrible that you were in pain. That you were all suffering to such an extreme degree. I solemnly swear that I would have returned to you a great deal earlier if I had been aware of the facts."
She does her best to suppress the grin that is quickly creeping over her face but to no avail. She is aware that things will become more complicated at some point in the future and that her return will soon be greeted with numerous inquiries, suspicions, and denials of her being who she really is. But she was up to the challenge. She dealt with it cheerfully if it meant that she might return to the one location in which she had felt a sense of belonging.
"May I give you a hug right now?" Allison says in a gentle voice; she hadn't touched him at all since that dreadful, horrible night that still causes her nightmares. The memory of that night still gives her nightmares. She didn't want it to be the last time she was ever held by him, not even for a brief while, and she wished it could have been longer.
As soon as he gives his assent, she does not so much as flinch before throwing her arms around him as rapidly as she possibly can. She didn't want to go, and she vowed that if she could only stay in his arms for the rest of her life, she would never again have to worry about not being sure of who she was. The fact that she could feel him and that everything she was experiencing was, in fact, happening helped her to feel healthier, more human, and more like she was really alive and at home.
Allison hushed, "And now the memory of the last time I was in your arms can be a better one." Both of them would benefit more from doing this. Due to the fact that it was the truth, she did not regret letting him know that she loved him. However, she did feel sorry for the anguish that he had experienced and hoped she could fix it. A flame had already begun to blaze between them, and as it did so, it pushed their teeth and lips apart ever-so-slightly, creating a little gap through which their breath could pass and unite them. She shifted her face from side to side, and her lips made light contact with his whenever they came into proximity. When they looked at one other, their eyes found a way to connect, and for a fraction of a second, they both wondered if this energy had always been there or whether there had been some kind of tension between them from the very beginning. When they glanced away from one another, their eyes parted. Allison didn't give it a second thought, but Scott's lips were on hers a split second later. It was as if they were experiencing the same sensation all over again while they were in their teenage years. It was a fact that she had never stopped loving Scott; their feelings for each other remained unchanged. She considered herself at home with him.
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12/09/2022 12:39 PM
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Nobody gets me like you.
 Allison tried to make him laugh by joking a little bit and saying, "Oh, come on, you owe it to me to supply me with something. since you won't let me do too much, Scott." She said this to lighten the atmosphere a little bit. She was barely home from the hospital, still confined to her own bed unless it was absolutely necessary, and she couldn't walk further than the kitchen without having to sit down on the way. Slow healing is her burden, and it's a bitchy one, but she's trying to cope with it. She said, "I'm bored. Well, I can scarcely move, so I don't believe you need to worry about me leaving the safety of my hunter-fortified flat, especially since I can hardly move at all," she said. "But I had you in mind, Scott. I was injured, and now I keep thinking, I really don't want anything to happen to the people who are important to me."
Allison was aware of the fact that not all of the time, she was the most emotional. In point of fact, the majority of the time, she would defer to Scott's judgment in this matter. She was only very adept at displaying emotion if it was quite overpowering. In which case, she was very excellent at it, which was every sensation as of late, which is why the fact that she ended up expressing anything tender was not surprising at all. Even if it occurred when he was working to improve her condition in every sense of the word, because she was hospitalized and was experiencing both bodily and emotional discomfort, she was psychologically weary.
She had reasons for doing what she did; she had observed how he moved and noticed the tension simmering below his skin's surface. In more recent times, it was there all the time, almost as if it were an intrinsic part of him. She was adamantly opposed to the event taking place. And the fact that he never stopped being concerned about how she was doing. At the time, he was mainly concentrating on her. However, she was limited in the number of things she could do without her asking for it. She replied by doing the same thing while leaning in to give him a sweet and deep kiss on the lips. His hip had bumped up against hers, and he had done the same thing. She reassured him once again, saying, "You can. Regardless of what it is that you desire or at any point in time, you require it. Thank you for taking care of me, boyfriend, when I need him the most."
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12/07/2022 10:54 PM
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You & I.
 Allison could feel the unmistakable traces of tears suggesting themselves behind her eyelids, so she buried her face in his neck in an effort to conceal them. - Because the point with Scott and Allison was that they did not end their relationship because she fell out of love with Scott; it was not conceivable, and she would always love Scott with all that she had.
Allison took in her surroundings, the two of them together; she could almost think that nothing had changed and that they were still in high school as if she had never died if she closed her eyes and pretended that she was still there. It was Scott McCall, her first love, and being in his arms was like being at home and feeling secure. Allison couldn't stop the grin from spreading over her face as she recognized him after such a long absence and leaned in to give him another kiss.
"Hi." After a time, she said it in a hushed tone.
Despite the fact that she was aware that her father would return home at some point, she wanted to remain in this state indefinitely. Even while he didn't blame Scott for what had occurred, he did hate himself.
According to her, a home is a house that is only partially equipped and is covered with boxes that are only partially empty. It consists of a car packed with her belongings and her relatives piling her into the vehicle at midnight, with the goal of getting someplace different each time. Beacon Hills is undoubtedly the neighborhood in which she has come the farthest toward establishing a permanent home.
Her eyes open to the last lingering glimpses of darkness, the edges of the sunshine reaching through the curtains with their fingers extended, the tips just peeking hints of orange and pink - just enough so that she can make out clues of shadows and figures surrounding the bed. She tilts slightly to the side and notices that Scott is staring at her. At the same time, she senses that he is murmuring something against the crown of her head.
"Scott?" she hums, his name scratching at the back of her throat as sandpaper does, her voice hoarse from lack of sleep. He is too close for her to see well, and she cannot tell whether he is frowning or smiling. She musters up enough energy to offer him a tired grin, leans over just enough to plant a short kiss on his cheek, and then asks, "Did you say something?"
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12/05/2022 11:28 PM
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ghost of you.
 As he said it, she recalled her last words to him through bleeding lips: that she loved him. In her memory, the events preceding up to her death were still relatively hazy, but as he said it, she remembered them. She had always had a love for Scott. "Scott, you were not required to repeat what you just said. I knew you love me." As she settles into her seat on the sofa and focuses her attention on the werewolf in front of her, who seems to be more concerned by the situation than she is, she murmurs the words. "Water... water would be excellent. Really impressive. I don't know, maybe more than a glass? I really feel like I could down many gallons of this."
Probably nothing out of the ordinary, considering that she had been deceased for a few years. When they were so close to touching, it made her want to reach out, grasp his hand, and pull him back down alongside her. Her heart sprang into her chest. Even when unsure of what is happening in her body, she can always rely on him to keep her grounded since he is her anchor. She grabs the water jug and guzzles down an absurdly large quantity of liquid, which would be funny if it weren't for the fact that she had just recently returned from the afterlife. After a few seconds have passed, she pulls the jug away from her mouth and raises a brow in question as she looks back up at him.
"To tell you the truth... I really have no idea. It's as if something inside my skull is battling with my existing ideas and telling me that I have to harm someone, specifically that I have to hurt you. It's almost as if there's a war going on. It actually causes my hands to itch because I want to do it, but I know I can't. Right now, I am able to fight it, but I don't know how long I will be able to. Perhaps similar to how you felt when you saw the full moon for the first time. Perhaps not even that terrible, I don't know, I just... I don't want to do harm to anybody, but I get the feeling that I could." Allison is not a crier, so she does her best to avoid the tears of frustration that are welling up in her eyes. Even though she knows she is more resilient than that, she still can't prevent the tears from streaming down her cheeks. " Scott... " her voice is low and trembling as her chocolate-colored eyes wander over his form. He seems to be far older than she recalled and more powerful, if that is even conceivable.
The intrusive and hostile thoughts stop for a little while, and the only emotion left is love, along with the strong desire to keep him near and never let go of my grasp. She cautiously comes inside, moving closer to him than is strictly required as she takes in the comfortable tranquility of his presence. "I need your help, Scott; I think there's something wrong with me. Something within my skull is telling me to do harm to other people, and I have no idea what to do about it... what if I cause harm to you?" It is the first time she has confided to anybody that she is not the same and that the thought frightens her. Allison isn't meant to be timid or weak; she shouldn't be afraid of the things that are going through her head. However, Scott is the one who pulls it out in her and makes her feel more human than she has since the day she woke up in the graveyard, shivering and bewildered.
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11/29/2022 10:50 PM
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imagination.
 "What the heck is wrong with your eye?" Allison asks in a frantic tone, which is followed by the sound of Stiles shuffling his feet as he moves out of the way to make room for Allison to kneel in front of him. Scott gives a sheepish shake of the head as he apologizes. "I had to," he tells her, and she cannot hide the fear written all over her face as she responds, "I'm sorry."
Derek reminds Scott that he has a speedy recovery, yet despite this, Scott's pulse is still too high, his respiration is still too shallow, and his heartbeat is still too fast. "If you continue to expose your eyes to this condition for much longer, the damage will be irreversible."
Stiles implores Scott, in a tone that conveys desperation, to focus his attention and pay attention.
Scott mutters in a frenzied tone, desperately attempting to concentrate, "I'm trying."
It's as if they have both been transported back to Eichen House, with Allison's shattered corpse resting in his arms and her blood dripping down his fingers, but she won't come this time. "It's not going to work. I'm having trouble concentrating."
When Allison tells Scott, "Scott, yes you can," her hands are on each side of his face and are kind but resolute. "Yes, you can," Allison adds. "Scott, can you please pay attention to me? Listen to my voice. You need to become better."
"You died," he breathes, his pulse still pumping, and he knows the Anuk-ite has passed away. "You died," he gasps. "I am to blame for your passing away."
Allison is adamant that Scott should not do it. "I'm alright, and what happened over there was not due to any negligence on your part. Okay? Simply concentrate, Scott. You need to become better."
He mutters, "I can't, I can't do it," as his pulse races and his breathing becomes more shallow. "I'm sorry, Allison, but I can't."
Isaac, picking up on the passion in Lydia's voice, whispers to Scott, "Come on, Scott," as she tells Allison to kiss him.
Scott still has trouble concentrating despite Allison asking, "What?" She was aware of it. And the oppressive sensation of residual terror left over from the Anuk-ite is suffocating. What if he can't focus? What if he can't heal? How can he defend people if he can't see? These are all things that are going through her mind at this very moment.
Lydia, with an anxious tone in her voice, adds, "Trust me." noises coming from all around them. Before Scott's lips are on hers, she vaguely remembers the noises of her pulse racing, and then all of the commotion and mayhem vanish. Even though they have been apart for two years, Scott's anchor in life has always been Allison. This is shown by the fact that his heartbeat and pulse have slowed down due to their separation.
"Scott?" Scott blinked as Allison's face became more distinguishable with each passing second, and Allison asked the question with great anticipation as she anxiously fidgeted with her lips.
After his eyes had been mended, he blinked at her, and she grinned as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Allison's body was warm against his, and Allison's heartbeat was going so fast she thought he could also hear her heartbeat.
A split second later, she draws away, and the sense of release that can be seen in her eyes is palpable. Everyone in the room breathes a sigh of relief as they take in this overpowering aroma.
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