Flaming Dreams, Tender HandsA Chapter by Tsukin Archangel "Fire burned to ash ash burst to flame..." First chap in my fic u can also see it on Fanfiction.net please support :3 *Warning there's ear biting -.- and language :3* *** “Fire burned to ash, ash burst to flame, flame died to earth, earth encompassed fire.” It was hot. Very, very VERY hot…and that was an understatement. Stiles wiped his brow expecting to see sweat but, his hand come away dry. “Well that’s a paradox,” He mumbled to himself looking at his surroundings, “How the hell am I sweating but not wet?” He took a few tentative steps forward, the ground brittle and black under his feet like volcanic ash, and resisted the urge to fall into a panic attack, trying, instead, to send that energy into figuring out where the hell he was and how heck to get out of it. He would have assumed that he was at some volcanic site but the sky was off, it was a deep crimson red, the color of blood, the clouds almost the color of bruises. Stiles gulped and shivered despite the intense heat, goosebumps covering his dry arms. Looking around really wasn’t helping his anxiety levels and he was beginning to regret even opening his eyes. The more he saw, the worse he got. Strange black cylindrical spires rose from the ground like long damning nails on flesh. Black goo filled pools looking like the blood that had spewed out of Gerards mouth after Derek bit him. Stiles shivered at the memory despite the heat. It was like he wasn’t even on Earth anymore. “You’re not, to answer your question.” Stiles spun around his heart pounding in his throat. He was getting dangerously close to having a total meltdown. “Well…that’s not exactly right.” Stiles shakily turned again the voice seeming to come from the opposite direction this time. Yet their was no one there. “You are but you aren’t.” Stiles licked his lips and cleared his throat; he opened his mouth to speak, “W-who are you?” He cringed at the sound of his voice. He had meant to sound calm or sarcastic or even nonchalant but instead his voice came out as a squeaking falsetto, his traitorous voice revealing his fear to and anxiety to the stranger…wherever he was. The voice laughed finding Stiles discomfort charming in a way, but gave no direct answer. “Just remember, dreams and reality, they are more entwined than you think.” “The heck is that supposed to mean,” Stiles squeaked out. The voice laughed again, this time sounding farther away, the ground beginning to shake. “Fire burned to ash, ash burst to flame, flame died to earth, earth encompassed fire.” “What the heck?! Answer me d****t!” Stiles fell to his knee’s as the shaking grew more violent, fire spewing from the cracks, ash filling the air burning his skin. “Fire burned to ash, ash burst to flame, flame died to earth, earth encompassed fire.” He rolled out of the way as a spire crumbled and fell, its chunks narrowly missing his skinny frame. “Fire burned to ash, ash burst to flame, flame died to earth, earth encompassed fire.” Stiles panic left him, his fear translating into the adrenaline of survival and he scrambled to his feet as this strange world began falling apart. He ducked under a ledge the exits being effectively blocked a few seconds later by fallen spires. Stiles ran to the other side and pushed against the rocks, knowing it was impossible but refusing to give into the panic slowly bubbling back to the surface. “No no no no no no no,” Stiles said to himself as he slumped against the block wall in defeat. The shaking hadn’t stopped, in fact it had gotten worse. Stiles gave up, and began to cry, his panic attack finally reaching the fore front of his being, consuming his coherent thoughts, dragging him into darkness as the ground drew him into itself. *** “Stiles!” Came the urgent whisper, “Stiles, wake up.” A firm grip clasped his shoulder while another clamped over his mouth, muffling the scream that escaped his lips, as his eyes flew open. “Hhppmmhph,” Came Stiles muffled cry for help. He struggled against his captor, flailing about wildly in his bed. “Quit it Stiles, it’s me, Derek,” Derek hissed in his ear, still holding him down with one arm. Slowly, his room swam into focus. His computer on his desk, the posters on his walls, his comics strewn across the floor, his Magic cards on his night stand. No blackened spires, no crimson sky, no pools of black blood, just himself , his things…and Derek Hale. Stiles let out a shaky breath, taking in Derek’s scent, forever like pine needles and sweat, his pulse returning to normal and nodded to Derek to let him go. Tentatively Derek complied, and Stiles pushed himself into a sitting position. “I always knew I was allergic to calculus,” Stiles said noticing, his calculus book next to him on the bed, trying to relieve the tension in the room. Derek stared at him, his face a blank mask, only Stiles trained eye could see the concern hidden behind it and handed him a bottle of water. Stiles took the bottle from him, and took a small sip from it, waiting for Derek to speak, suppressing a shiver caused by the now open window. First dreadful heat, and now an almost painful cold. Derek sighed and climbed into bed next to him draping his large, muscled arms around Stiles, pulling him into a compassionate hug, obviously sensing Stiles discomfort. They sat like that for a few moments, Derek absentmindedly rubbing Stiles wrist. He bent his head and kissed the top of Stiles short cropped head before speaking. “Was it the same dream?” Stiles nodded, and leaned farther into Derek, wanting to get lost in his warmth, really wanting to forget the whole incident. “It’s not really a dream you know, dreams have prancing unicorns and rainbow fields, this is just a black and red hell.” Derek hugged him tighter, as if he could squeeze out all of Stiles pain. “It’ll get better,” He whispered in his ear, biting it gently. “I know,” Stiles replied, ignoring the tease and closing his eyes, his breath and heart beat now matching Derek’s. The steady anchor known as Derek, lulling him back to sleep. Derek signed and rested his cheek on Stiles head, knowing nothing more would be coming out of tonight. “Derek,” Stiles mumbled groggily. “Hmm.” “Don’t even think about leaving.” Derek chuckled silently, a small half smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course not.” © 2012 Tsukin ArchangelReviews
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Added on November 3, 2012Last Updated on November 3, 2012 Author
Tsukin ArchangelPalmdale, CAAboutHmm let's see~ I'm 20 (wow I've had this account for a long time) I'm a poet I'm a story writer A singer An amateur Voice actor An anime enthusiast An avid gamer 100% Unadulterrated Me! I wri.. more..Writing
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