Allison argent looked exactly like the day she'd died, with the exception of her clothes, she was wearing whatever she'd been buried in back then.
Well, no. There was another exception about her looks, her expression... Anyone who could see her then, anyone who knew her that is, could tell there was a difference. In the many years they'd known her, she'd never displayed such cold, unbothered and disconnected expression. Allison Argent looked the same yet so different at the same time.
Her interaction with her friends was as brief and detached as they thought it would be after their first glance at her. Once the shock wore off, Lydia and Stiles noticed Scott's expression as well, he didn't seem as thrilled to see her alive as he should've been. Something was in the water, and whatever it was, it didn't smell that good.
The most disheartening part of it all, was her reunion with her father. Watching the joy slowly melt away from him once he realized she wasn't totally herself... Broke many, especially those who were once close to her.
She broke away from the group shortly after, she chose to sit by herself for a while, looking into the distance from a window. She wasn't smiling, she wasn't crying, she wasn't showing any emotion at all, or at least that was what Scott had noticed, he stood at a distance behind her, just waiting for... Whatever would happen, if anything did at all.
"Anything?" Scott's eyes hesitatingly left Allison's figure when he heard Stiles' voice nearby.
"What do you mean?" Scott asked.
"I know you're doing that thing where you try to figure out somebody's emotional state," said Stiles. He paused for a moment, then when Scott laid his eyes back on Alisson without saying a word, he asked again, "So, anything?"
"No, nothing at all," he said, sounding defeated.
"But what does that usually mean?" said Stiles.
"Usually, it either means the person is dead or... Incapable of feeling any kind of emotions,"
"That... Doesn't sound very good," Stiles commented. Then again, he stopped talking for another moment, before something else urged him to speak, "You know, I just realized... You and I haven't really spoken at all since... I am not really sure anymore,"
Scott looked at Stiles twice as fast as he did the first time, "Yeah, I guess we're already too deep into this whole thing, it's ..." Scott trailed off.
"It's just as overwhelming as it is per usual?" Stiles suggested an ending to his friend's sentence, "It's not really new to us. Sure, the circumstances are different but... Same old, same old," he added.
"What do you think about all of this, by the way?" Scott asked.
"I still don't have all the pieces to make an assessment or a conclusion, let alone a plan... But if Jennifer and the nogitsuné are back, I can already picture the disasters ahead,"
"We need to talk to everyone, as soon as possible. It feels like our enemy... Or whoever is pulling the strings in the shadows, is already ten steps ahead of us...,"
"It's not just a feeling Scott, they are ahead of us,"
Stiles was sorry to say those words, it was apparent through his voice, even Malia could tell. She was standing as far as her vision allowed her to watch from. To watch the watcher.
She never stopped to really think about it, but she did join the pack after Allison's death, and Malia knew the huntress was Scott's first love. She never thought they'd be crossing roads, not that way at least. Seeing him like that, she wondered.... It was true that throughout her many years in her human form, she became familiar with most emotions to feel out there. But jealousy in that aspect wasn't one she'd experienced frequently, if not at all.
She wasn't even sure it was that, then came a sensation she was familiar with, that of guilt, just as nauseating as the first time she'd felt it. She felt guilty she was thinking of such things at such times.
"I wouldn't worry about this too much if I were you," just like Stiles had surprised Scott earlier, Peter came behind Malia and caught her attention from the scene she was focused on.
"Are you an expert or something?" she asked, as unimpressed as she always was, when she spoke to her father.
"Would you be surprised if I were?" he said, feigning offence.
"Slightly," she said, her eyes still on Scott.
"Not an expert, but I did go through something like that, in the end you'll realize it's not worth it," he said, a tad more serious.
"Yeah, somehow I am not convinced," she said.
"What gives?"
"No offense, but your advice aren't really reliable, especially when they date back to your younger years," she said.
"Fair enough but, trust me on this at least. You'll just hurt yourself," on those words, Malia turned towards Peter, he did sound a lot more sincere than usual. Then again it was Peter, she cared for him, more than she let show, but she was never sure of his intentions, not that she didn't believe he was trying to help, but people often try to help for the wrong reasons, and with him... No one truly ever knew.
"There won't be much left to hurt if we don't solve this," a different voice came to Malia and Peter's ears.
"You're that new banshee," Peter commented.
"I am not that new, especially compared to any of you, but we can talk about this another time. Call your friends then join me at the morgue," said Maylee, before turning away and leaving.
"Creepy...," said Malia.
"Yeah, she is. There's something about her... Something very wrong," Peter voiced his concerns.
"Think she's an enemy?"
"No, it's not that, it's just... I don't know how to explain it, her scent is very off,"
"I noticed that too, but I didn't think much of it. Anyway, I guess we'll find out more about that when we're all gathered," said Malia.