Peter Hale is basically satan in a v-neck. (notfireproof) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-02-01 23:11:00 |
|
|||
A lot had changed for Peter, all in the course of only a few months. Like an empty whisper in the back of his, he could remember that post he had made about monsters; Peter would laugh at it now if there was anything about it that was funny. He hated who that person was, so afraid and cowering. Peter didn’t love what he was now, but it was tolerable. There was no more looking over his shoulder for invisible monsters or stalking shadows. When he fell asleep, he hated the dreams that came but he didn’t try to kill himself to avoid them anymore. The resurrection had been more than just a dream. It wasn’t difficult to tell he wasn’t the same. More than just that stability bred from the embers of anger and revenge mixed with apathy, Peter's body was reformed as each dream unfolded. All that fear was gone, replaced by a dull, aching feeling that he couldn’t name. It didn’t hurt and to tell the truth, not much did anymore. Those dreams took him to the brink of insanity only to unceremoniously shove him over the ledge. Peter spiralled out of control for what felt like eternity before snapping awake, something completely new. Despite the radicalness of the change, he couldn't say it was terrible, only because it was a solace. That slow, creeping, engulfing insanity had been hard to bear, so much so that anything else would be better. At one point, Peter had woken up with a laptop hidden in his house under the stairs. Waking up that morning, Peter couldn't explain why he felt the need to pry up one of the floorboards on his stairs but he had and under it was that same laptop from his dreams. Again, Peter woke up with another item from the dreams, but it was more life-changing than a laptop. Peter wasn't interested in the nearly endless amount of information on the supernatural creatures of Beacon Hills, however, because of his most recent dreams. It was infuriating enough that his sister had kept a secret from him, even to her death, and once he learned what it was, heartbreak mixed with anger in a way that made him feel sick to his stomach, yet it fuelled his desire to try and learn more. Despite the fact that it could be nearly impossible to find any information on this girl here, if she even existed, Peter would try. The adoption records he had for her were bloody and missing huge parts, but the information that was there was enough to keep him moving forward. Leaning back against the chair he had taken near the newspaper archive, Peter felt exhausted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar face (or what he thought was a familiar face) and he pushed himself up. He hadn't seen Cora in a long time. In fact, the last time he saw her in person had been when she was in the hospital. "Cora," he called out, though got no response. He thought it strange, but he just repeated her name a little louder as he walked closer. "Cora." |