Sincere Requests

AUTHOR'S NOTE:Holy shit, we have art! The artist has requested to stay anonymous, though, but they will be sending over some more, even for my other fics! I'm super excited! Thank you so much, Anonymous! They said it was Layla with only her eyes and hair changed because they were lazy and didn't want to do the runes lol For those of you on Fanfiction. net, I'm sorry but you'll have to go over to this fic on AO3 if you want to see it. i write under the same profile and fic names, so no worries.

Also, I'm fucking back! Guess whose graduated and now has to figure out what to do with their life, lol.

Also, I know I said we would be getting to the Ascendance in this chapter but Derek decided to make an appearance, and then someone else ended up in beacon early, and nothing went how I thought it was going to, but I'm not even really mad about it. And technically, we do kind of get to it, but I'm sorry if anybody is disappointed. Anyways, I'm really happy to be back to writing, and please check the end notes, because I want to hear your opinions on some of the shit that goes down.

As always, thank you so, so, so, so much for reading and all the support I get on this behemoth of a series, and particularly this fic. It's kind of crazy how well it's doing. If you're interested, and want to see our MC doing more crazy shit, please feel free to check out the rest of the series as she travels through multiple lives. See y'all soon!

XXXXXDEREKXXXXX

My eyes snap open, hands tightening around the bodies pressed to mine. I inhale sharply, my eyes shifting alpha r ed, a distinct, more intense feeling than the blue and gold they once were. I blink, seeing pale skin and caramel eyes blinking open and meeting mine.

"Der?" He murmurs, palm pressing into my side. Mate, mine- No, never.

"Layla isn't here." His eyes immediately sharpen, worry filling his scent, and I squeeze the back of his neck, trying to chase it away. "I can hear her heartbeat upstairs."

He nods, dipping his head to nuzzle the underside of my jaw, and I push down the pleased growl that the pack likes to joke is a purr. We detengle ourselves from Scott and Sunya, and surprisingly, Jackson, who has a death grip on one of my ankles. The kanima, (and really, this type of shit could only happen to my pack), peels his reptilian eyes open, but goes back to sleep curled around Lydia after Stiles pets his head a few times.

We head up the stairs, my arm locked around the clumsy, sleepy human. No, the mage, I correct myself, Stiles is a mage. The power of magic users are determined more on an individual basis. No one type is necessarily more powerful, but some are more versatile. Apparently, you likely couldn't get more versatile than a mage. Unlike most magic users, they can tap into ley lines fairly easily, which was their distinguishing feature. They are attuned to nature like witches, they could enchant like enchanters, and manipulate things like sorcerers, and had inherent magic that didn't necessarily require spells like wizards. Of course, there were always exceptions with magic users, and there are too many different types and names to count, the lines between them always blurred by ability and or plain preferences. Someone might choose to identify as a witch even if they have traditional enchanter abilities as well, simply because they prefer that form of magical practice, and each culture through time and place may have their own specific traditions and titles.

The whole thing made my fucking head hurt, and I point blank decided to leave any and all magic related shit to my Emissary and Gaurdian.

Following my nose, the scent of chocolate and cinnamon, mint and recently, thunderstorm and ozone. The scent of pack. Layla. Mate- NO. I shake the thought away, pushing down the guilt and self loathing, knowing she'll feel it, and I both love and hate the fact that it will concern her. We duck into the dark kitchen and there she is, a cup of North African Mint tea in her palms as she leans against the counter, eyes covered by her hair and flower crown pulled low over them. As we enter the corner of her lips tilt up, and she immediately set the mug down, bouncing towards us. Instinctually, I gather her close, pinning her between Stiles and I, my nose going directly to the top of her head, eyes burning brighter when Stiles presses his head to both of ours. For just a moment I let myself bask in the comfort of their combined scents, coffee and chocolate and ink and storm and paper and mint tea and flowers and pack. Mates, claim, protect, ours, mine,- I yank myself back, shaking my head free of the wolf and the need. It has gotten so much harder lately.

Mates weren't some destined soulmate that you recognized and fell for at first sight. No, there was no single person you were destined for. Rather, potential mates were people you were highly compatible with and there were many you could meet throughout your lifetime. Personality was reflected to some degree in how you perceive a person's scent. A potential mate would always smell good, but as you get to know someone, the closer you become, the stronger your attraction to their scent would become.

Paige had always smelled good to me, and it hadn't taken much for me to realize she was a potential mate as time went on and we fell in love. The need for her became overwhelming, and at that age, I hadn't really realized how dangerous the bite was. My love killed her, just like everyone else, and I would never let it happen again. I had tried with Kate, having decided I didn't deserve a potential mate, ignored the instincts that despised her carefully hidden and toned down scent, that screamed she was wrong, and hoped that things would turn out fine since she would clearly never be my mate. Somehow, that was an even bigger disaster.

It was just my luck that I found two potential mates, and they already smelled better than even Paige. Just my fucking luck that they would drag me into a pack so full of love and kindness that I couldn't bear to leave it even when I knew I didn't deserve it. Just my luck that they would also be so compatible with one another that my wolf would while all day long about how perfect the conditions were for a triad, a rare but not unheard of way of mating among were creatures. Oh, Mother Moon, if I kill them, too, I won't survive it. I push the dark thoughts away as soft fingers brush my cheek, resigning myself (again) to never claiming and marking a mate, let alone two, especially not my closest and dearest friends in this cruel world. "What are you doing up, Jazz Hands?"

She huffs, smacking my shoulder, but nuzzling my chest, and my heart aches with affection at the wolf-like gesture. Layla leans into Stiles, a flower tilting towards the sun, and he dips his head to press his lips to her temple in response, eyes rich with love and glowing with newfound magic. I roll my eyes, exasperated. Why the fuck aren't these idiots together? This is ridiculous.

I could never be with them like that, never risk it, or condone it when they were so young and innocent and good, but I wanted them to be happy and cherished from the very bottom of my soul. They could be that for each other, and damn if they weren't both deeply attracted to one another. I had no fucking clue how they remained friends like this the whole time without ever ending up dating. The thought of them together, rather than making me jealous, filled me with warmth and happiness. I won't ever acknowledge the undeniable desire that would accompany those thoughts, or the shame that immediately follows. You sick fuck. They are so young, you're no better than Kate- No, I'm different. I'll never cross the line. Then, maybe it's okay if I stay by their side.

"Headaches and visions," Layla gives us a wry, tired smile, and I catch Stiles eyes over her head. It was easy to forget how small she was, but there were times like this when she looks so fragile, so unlike the larger than life, silver embodiment of magic that made the ground tremble in her wrath.

"Finally getting nervous, huh?" Stiles murmurs gently. Layla tilts her head, nose scrunching in confusion, and I turn to other teen as well. Stiles huffs, shooting me an amused look. "Midnight, you're always like this. Your anxiety builds slowly until it boils over. I guess you were too distracted with whatever it is you need to deal with after your Ascendence that it crept up on you and you didn't really notice."

Layla gapes, baffled, and I snort, once again amused and in awe of their relationship. As the alpha, I could sense all the packbonds, even between the other pack members, and their bond was so fucking strong, it was ridiculous. Hell, all the bonds of our pack were fucking outrageous. Both were as tied to Scott as I had been to Cora, my closest blood sibling. Even more astonishing, all three were bonded more tightly to me than Laura had been, even as my alpha. The only bonds I think I'd ever held that were stronger than my current ones were to my own mother and alpha, and Peter, at least before…before Paige. And somehow, the one between Stiles and Layla might still be stronger. The fact that my bond to them was almost at that level made me want to cry, to howl in victory, ….to run away screaming. I'm so fucked, I'm falling and the only thing I'll find at rock bottom is my own broken heart, and still I can't bear to distance myself, even if that might be better for them.

"Is ther anything we can do to help?" I throw myself back into conversation, trying to distract myself. Layla pauses, going still, lips parted for a moment before she bites the bottom one, head dropping. I do a double take. The hell? She's conflicted? Embarrassed, but hopeful? I scowl at the weird chemosignals and emotions from the bond.

"Layla?" Stiles wonders, just as curious by the uncharacteristic behavior.

"Um, yeah. Well, there is one one thing I could use help with, but…not really sure if I can ask it from you guys," her voice trails off into a barely audible huff of air, and now I'm genuinely alarmed.

"Layla being shy? Is the world ending?" I mutter incredulously, and Layla makes a squeaking noise, turning her back to me and hiding her face in Stiles's chest instead. I stare, bewildered, but pull both of them closer, not having meant to embarrass her.

Stiles shakes with near silent laughter, wheezing. "Okay, I get why you have that impression, but it's actually not as unlikely as you'd think," I give him a doubtful look and he snickers again, running long fingers through her hair. "No, seriously. Layla is a strong introvert. She could have taken over the whole school, but chose to isolate herself with Scotty and I, loser extraordinaries."

Layla's head whipped up, glaring despite her eyes being closed and hidden under flowers and dark strands. "I didn't want anyone but you two Don't call yourself losers! You two were the ones who were happy being friends with someone so blind she has trouble buying her own groceries. Can't get more pathetic than that."

"Hey!" Stiles hisses. Both promptly decend into bickering. Somehow, their argument, the reverse of a normal fight, consist of tearing into themselves and praising each other. It was the strangest form of argument I'd ever seen and not the first time I'd seen them do it.

"Wait, stop changing the subject," I growl, breaking the argument up, hating the self deprecation and ignoring how hypocritical that was. "Whatever you need. Ask us."

The girl abruptly squirms again, but answers after some coaxing from Stiles. "Um, I need you to kiss me."

I stare. "Wh-what." Stiles eyes have gotten huge, his jaw on the floor. "Explain."

She shifts hunching in on herself. "My first kiss. I need it to happen before tomorrow."

"…why?" Stiles asks warily.

She shrugs. "Each creature takes vows differently. Werewolf's bite or press teath to skin. Magic users offer blood and vampires take blood. Some creatures offer gifts like hair or artifacts. Some…kiss." I feel a sudden rage at the thought, jealousy and protective instincts forcing my fangs out of my gums behind my tightly pursed lips. "It doesn't matter, but if I had to choose I'd want my first kiss to be with someone who cares about me, not the Guardian." She wrings her hands a bit, seemingly gathering her courage. "I trust pack, and know you care. Scott's in a relationship, and ew. Isaac is not in the right place, and also ew. Boyd has something going with Erica. That leaves you two, but I don't want to take Stiles's opportunity at a normal first kiss. So yeah, um, Derek."

There is silence as we stare at her in disbelief. My heart pounding violently and blood rushing as the wolf spirit begins to howl gleefully. What kind of cosmic joke-

"You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable," she whispers, trembling a bit from nerves. It's not kissing you that makes me uncomfortable, but how much I want to.

"No, that's a good idea. Hey, Der, can you kiss me too?" Stiles pipes up. I'm gonna lose my fucking mind. Wasn't I just reminding myself I couldn't have them? "I'd rather do this with a friend, too. Someone who knows what they are doing." Layla nods in agreement.

They were dead serious, and worse I could see the logic. Better me than a stranger. Better a friend than for duty. It was protecting them, making sure that an important milestone would be at least somewhat pleasant. I understood, but still. "You're both crazy. You want me to help you with this, of all people?"

Both frown, confused by my completely reasonable point. "What do you mean?" Layla asks. "Who the bell else do you think I'd actually be comfortable asking this of?"

I feel heat rising in my skin even as I acknowledge the point. As tactile as Layla was, as daring and brave, I'd seen her go to pretty far lengths to avoid interacting with anyone not pack. Hell, I once saw her almost eat the wrong order just so she wouldn't have to talk to the waiter. Thry're asking because they trust me? My heart begins waver. It's ine if it was just a little kiss, right? Just this once? Layla will turn 16 before I turn 20. It's nnocent, right? The guilt at my own excitement said otherwise. I was an awful, awful person.

I make up my mind and act before I can second guess it. "Fine," I gather Layla up in a single move and set her on the counter, soaking up the delicious spike in her scent. She gasps breathlessly at the sudden movement, and ducks her head against me in embarrassment. I catch Stiles eyes and want to smirk at the sudden dialation in his pupils, but manage to force it back, even as the wolf preens.

Cupping Layla's cheeks, much like I had the first time we met, I lean in, sliding into the space between her knees, eyes blazing. I freeze when her palm on my chest pushes at me, but all she does is lift the crown from over her eyes, the lovely scent of jasmine and lily filling the air, the flowers turning silver as dark eyes blink up at me for the first time since I woke up tonight.

"You sure?" I whisper, voice rough with my own turmoil as I get lost in her presence, shivering as silken strands of hair brush my skin.

"Yeah. Are you?" She replies without hesitation, just as serious. She can feel the emotions I am feeling, and I wonder if she can make any sense of them because I definitely can't. I breathe in sharply, taking in that devastatingly lovely scent. She is trusting me. I don't want to let her down. And truly, I want to kiss her. Even though the guilt is still there, I can pretend that this is unselfish.

Just a moment, just for this single moment, maybe I can have this.

I duck down, pressing my closed lips to hers, as gently as I can. It's beautiful and sweet, warm and loving. Chaste and somehow far too intimate despite that. It's heartbreaking because it will never happen again, damning because now I've fueled my greed. I pull back, only a few seconds having passed, and yet the world has shifted.

I glance at Stiles, and it gets worse somehow. With desire in his dark gaze and a soft look in his eyes, there is none of the hate or disgust I expect, that I need, to remind me that this was wrong even when it felt terribly right.

Then it's like he's shaking himself free from a trance, smirking and sauntering forward, and I'm rooted to my spot, heat pooling in my belly. Stiles presses into my space, an arm around my neck and eyes alight with excitement. He stops, his mouth a hair's breadth from mine, and waits, glancing up at me through his lashes, asking for silent permission.

Fuck it, since I'm probably doomed anyway.

I press my lips to his, and it's just as perfect, even if the recipient was distinctly more daring. I pull away, and my eyes land on Layla, the same warmth in gaze as Stiles.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

"Well, that was fun," Stiles breathes, grin bright if disbelieving. "Is that good enough for you Layla?"

"Hmm," she hums, eyes glassy and voice low in a way that sends my already flushed cheeks burning again. "Not much of a difference between the first and second kiss, is there?" Her smile is wry, if a bit sad. She's not thrilled at the prospect of kissing someone else. I ignore how happy that makes me feel.

"Layla?" Stiles drawls suddenly, something wicked in his tone, and she tilts her head in question, as some kind of unspoken conversation passes between them. Then Layla laughs, head hidden in her hands, but nods. Then he's pressing into her space, sliding between her parted legs, one hand resting on her thigh, and my heart just about stops at the intoxicating sight before me as I force myself to stay where I am, the wolf spirit urging me forward with howls and yips. Mates, mates, mates, claim, ours, mine-

"I can fix that," Stiles purrs. Oh.

Layla doesn't reply. Then their lips are pressing together, hands in hair, and none of the causation they had with me. They break apart after a long moment, dissolving into breathless giggles and giddy smiles. It makes my heart thud and I wonder how even their human ears can't hear it.

"Holy shit. Welp, I'm done. Good fucking night." Layla presses a final shy kiss to Stiles's cheek, reaching out and tugging me to them by my shirt and doing the same for me. Then, with all the seriousness in the world, she stares up at us as she hops off the counter, voice bashful. "Thanks."

And then she's darting away and up the stairs, bond leaking relief and happiness and embarrassment. Stiles just grins, grabbing my hand. "Come on, Sourwolf. Back to bed for us."

"Seriously?" I'm in disbelief. Just like that?

"Obviously." This motherfucker- "We were helping Layla. No need to feel weird about it. We're pack. Nothing will change that."

And it's true. Nothing has changed. I can't have them, but I still get to be by their sides. That's good enough.

Right?

XXXXXLAYLAXXXXX

"We're late. We're fucking late. I hate being late," I hiss, shoving long strands over my shoulder as Stiles floors it. This morning had been hectic. I'd found myself ambushed by Lydia, Erica, and Isaac to play dress up as they raided my closet, using products I didn't even know the purpose of to primp and paint and style me. And the hair plucking would make its appearance in my nightmares, I'm sure.

My friends were entranced by the pretty colors of my Indian wardrobe, and running off the magic instinct, I picked a soft, velvety blouse of deep, green that left my belly bare with a beaded skirt and matching shawl for some reason, declining the more detailed outfits, to my stylists disappointment. Boyd and Jackson watched in amusement as I was pulled this way and that, our friends buzzing around my half asleep ass while I tried to figure out how the hell this group of people came together in the first place.

Stiles pulls into the parking lot of the police station where we were picking up Papa Sheriff, who was representing the popo at the Ascendance. Mama Mel, who had volunteered to be a supernatural liaison at the hospital, was riding with Scott and Derek in the camaro, running last minute errands. The rest of the pack, though, we're staying home in case shit went down. They were all human, except Jackson and Lydia, who might as well be since they didn't have the ability to defend themselves yet. I was hoping they'd all be safe at home with all the weapons, watching movies with a Sunny Pup.

Let's hope the house doesn't burn down.

We duck inside the station, familiar greetings ringing out as we head towards the Sheriff's office, the department well used to us appearing underfoot. Sensing something odd inside, I nudge Stiles aside, adrenaline spiking, and enter without knocking, my eyes immediately fallin on a tall young man in a jacket and jeans.

"Kids! You guys should know to knock, you brats," Papa Sheriff scolds from behind his desk, but I ignore him, prowling towards the stranger, instincts screaming but not from danger. My magic rises up, silver bleeding through, and I hear a yelp from behind me as Stiles slams the office door shut, the sheriff cursing loudly as he stands.

The man, however, is frozen, and then he's moving forward, some kind of magic unlike anything I'd ever felt flaring up inside him as he drops to the ground, wrapping his arms around my knees, head bowed. No, that's not right, I mentally correct myself, he still feels a little like…Lydia?

"Oi, Parrish, what the hell-" I raise my hand, stopping my adoptive dad from aproaching the full grown man grabbing my legs, focusing instead on the whisper of a tree.

"Hello," I say, gently touching auburn hair. The man, Parrish?, glances up, and his eyes look like living fire. "Do you know what I am?"

"N-no. You're…good? You… aren't human?" He asks, seemingly dazed, something powerful and old bubbling up underneath his skin.

"Yes," I agree, no longer really feeling a sting at the admittance. "I'm a Guardian."

"I don't know what that means. Fuck, I don't know why I'm doing this," he mutters, face twisting as he tries to fight his instincts, eyes blazing like a jack-o'-lantern. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm not a creep."

I snort, pressing my palm to the back of his neck. Safe, ally, friend- "Do you know what you are, Parrish?"

"Jordan, Jordan Parrish," he replies, finally managing to pull himself away, though he remains kneeling by my skirts. "I, I don't really know. Back, back when I was in Afghanistan, my unit got hit with an IED. Ev-everything went up in flames. I remember… burning…I'm not human, either, am I?"

His voice faded, head dropping, and that dangerous magic surges, the distinct feeling I suddenly understand as death filling the room, and then when he meets my gaze once more, I feel the magic, a second spirit, present itself. "Hello, your highness."

Stiles steps forward, his palm meeting the skin of my lower back, agitation building under his skin. The sheriff had also made his way to stand behind me, feeling much the same as his son. I, however, am perfectly relaxed, my magic completely at ease."Hello, Ancient One. Or do you prefer to be called Cerberus?"

Stiles chokes.

XXXXXXXXXX

We end up sending Jordan home to the rest of the pack, who would be giving him the run down of the supernatural world, and offering him access to any information we had on Hellhounds, not that there was much. The poor man had thought his PTSD was causing all the black outs and sleepwalking, and had instinctually come to Beacon Hills under the impression that the small town would give him the peace and quiet he needed to recover.

Ha. Yeah fucking right.

Hellhounds are vessels of ammortal beings, sometimes called Cerberus, that, like banshees, were tied to death. They were known for appearing in places with high supernatural and magical concentrations, especially ones with nemetons. Also like banshees, they were often associated with serving Guardians, protecting the secret of the supernatural by cleaning up the evidence and hiding it from the mundane.

I cringe just thinking about how badly that would sit with the future deputy.

From what Suhel was insinuating, Jordan had awoken on the night we'd been bitten, and the spirt part of him and chosen to eagerly serve me. The human and hellhound aspects would merge over time, but essentially, I'd gotten myself a minion and the Sheriff's department got themselves a very talented asset.

I could already tell that our pack would be gaining a flaming doggo. Jordon doesn't really have the ability to resist his spicier half, and the Cerberus had been insistent on bonding. Of course, he didn't have to become a pack to form a bond with me, but he would. I could feel it.

"Fuck, and the day is only just beginning," I mutter, jumping down from Rosco. Stiles takes my hand, gently guiding me up the long gravel drive of what used to be Hale House. I squeeze his hand back, relieved to have him as always.

The kisses, they… they have been something. I was grateful, truly. I didn't want to have to give up something so personal for the sake of my responsibility as a guardian. Normally, I didn't put so much stock into the idea that such moments had to be perfect and memorable, but I was much happier having shared it with two of my best friends in the entire world. And damn if I didn't enjoy it. Bit more than anything, I was gut wrenchingly relieved that no damage had come to the pack bombs from my selfish request. If anything, they were stronger.

As for the revelation that my feelings for both of them are definitely more than platonic? Well, in the end it didn't matter because I was perfectly happy going back to denial, thank you very much.

"Hello, dears," Aunt Angie bustles happily over, and I eagerly accept the grandmotherly hug she offers in greeting. "All the preparations are complete."

I glance at the tables spread across the Hale's lawn, catching the smell of some real good food, and the glint of decorations here and there. Derek appears, bounding down the porch steps, but surprisingly, not as a human, black fur and red eyes gleaming dangerously.

I smile, feeling myself relax as he presses his nose to the skin of my belly, and send my gratitude down the bond. I take a deep breath, letting my magic bleed out on full blast, my mind settling as I brace for whatever is headed my way.

Of course, the moment I find my focus, the first group of supernaturals appears on my radar and I have to lean on Derek as I'm literally knocked off balance in my surprise, not having seen this coming at all. My nemeton friend chooses this moment to materialize, making Stiles and Derek startle at his sudden cackles of delight. I huff a somewhat hysterical laugh in response, mind barely able to process what I'm sensing, awed.

"Get ready, our first guests arrive. Oh, what a wonderful boon this shall be to our realm!" Stiles relays the message to our friends who still can't see the floating being.

"Well, what are they, Royal Brat?" Finstock demands, the crazy pooka appearing from a literal cloud of purple smoke next to me, causing Stiles to shriek, landing on Derek's back in his fright, but as many questions as I have about that, I don't dare take my eyes off the tree line.

I step forward as the first figure appears out of the shadows of the forest, ignoring the gasps of awe at a pure white unicorn, glowing in the sunlight. The stallion is huge, luscious mane spilling like silk down his sides, vibrant flowers brilliant against the paleness they are braided into. I approach carefully, but he remains perfectly still. Deeek moves to follow me, but the harsh neigh and hoof cracking the ground stops him is a very clear warning.

"Leave her, Alpha," Suhel's ghostly whisper follows me.

I catch a glimpse of a Pegasus and a small foal as well, feeling giddy from mere proximity to such powerful, pure magic. Ginning, I curtsy, "Welcome."

Suhel materializes behind me again, his hands pressing onto my shoulders in that real-not-real way. "They request safehaven and the ability to reside with me in exchange for the benefits of their presence. They have also agreed to guard me."

I feel my eyebrows raise. Unicorns and Pegasi were creatures of good fortune, purity, and protection. They were people-shy, but were said to comfort kind and innocent souls, and while not typically associated with battle, the wicked horns on their heads sparkling like diamonds weren't for show. "Well, are you pleased with that?"

Suhel laughs, sweet and exuberant, wrapping his arms around my neck like creeping ivy. "I am, but the decision is yours, my guardian."

I give him a look of wry amusement. No one sane would deny a fucking divinely blessed creature. The tree giggles in response. "I grant permission, so it has been witnessed so note it be." Glancing over my shoulder at the still bug eyed statues, I sigh. "Right. I'm going to take them to Suhel so they can avoid the rest of the visitors. Hold down the fort."

Derek whines, shifting on his massive paws anxiously, and I send reassurance through the bonds, smirking as my runes glow brighter. "Don't worry. Nothing can harm me in my forest."

XXXXXXXXXX

I finish the ceremony with the herd in private, knowing they prefer not to reveal their numbers to everyone. There are 7 of them total, 3 pegasi, and 4 unicorns, 1 baby of each. While they were technically different creatures, the difference was the same as that between various were-creatures and their banding together wasn't unheard of. Upon instruction, I entwined a single strand of my hair with their manes, receiving a feather or hair strand in return. Upon contact with my palms, they turned into golden charms.

"They are for protection," Suhel explained casually as my soul shook from the magic in them, as though the tiny items in my hand wouldn't mean the difference between life and death for my pack.

We were truly being blessed.

I thanked the heard purfusely, letting myself indulge in the elation of petting a fucking unicorn for only a minute, satisfying a long forgotten childhood fantasy before going on my way. The crowd of supernaturals was a beacon guiding my steps, the air tense with suspense, and I felt myself slip into that detached head space, the one of a ruler.

"Looks like they are waiting for us. Shall we make a grand entrance?"

Suhel smiles. He's got a lot of sharp teeth for a tree.

XXXXXXXXXX