A Stroll Down Memory Lane [Mina Miles]

It had been approximately two days, eight hours, and thirty nine minutes since miss Mina Miles had lost her entire semblance of normalcy. Thrown it out the window and let it fly off in the wind. All the things that go bump in the night apparently lived in her back yard. Or near enough at least. A murderous monster nearly took her head off. She still had no idea what sleep walking disaster brought her out into those deep and dark woods in the first place. So she took to the books. Printed papers, littered articles, open tomes, everything she had at her disposal covered her bed, floor, and desk. Sticky notes pointed out cross references between anything she thought had credibility. Mostly anything from the current century she disregarded. With the advent of the internet it seemed everyone wanted to throw their own spin on the old tale, thus tossing any truth. And that's what she was searching for after all. 

When she had exhausted every resource she could scrounge from home the redhead decided it was time to hit the library. While she wasn't technically fully enrolled at Beacon Hills High just yet, she looked enough like a stressed out student that she was able to slip in with a crowd and hold up secretly around the stacks and shelves. The library had a much larger section on mythology than her personal collection of books. Not for lacking of prior interest in the subject, Mina had a sizable collection of fiction and fantasy books, juuuust none that really fit her bill of usefulness. She had amassed a stack in her corner of the room and remained barely aware of the outside world right up until she saw a familiar face. 

The boy from that night. The calm where there should have been a storm. His generally level headed response suggested familiarity. And he managed to save the both of them. Words couldn't exactly express how thankful she was for his sudden appearance on the scene. Mina poked her head back around one of the shelves. 

"Um, Hullo--" She peeped, stepping closer on her toes. God she couldn't even remember his name. He told her, well he must have at one point but for the life of her she couldn't remember. It was still a bit of a struggle to even believe or accept that the other night actually happened, and that they got away, but here was living proof. It could not have been a nightmare because it was shared. "Is anyone sitting there?" Right, good job Miles. Smooth. Best way to start a conversation about a homicidal man-creature that shouldn't exactly exist.  

tags: Stiles Stilinski

"Mina." With one hand she swiveled the chair around so the rest was against the table and so she could rest her arms and chin upon it. "My name is Mina Miles. And yours is?" Her voice hinted at the rasp she was barely getting over from screaming so much. She forced a half smile and sunk into her sweater. Talk about instant relief. Guess he couldn't remember her name either. Or perhaps she never said it. To be honest everything was a bit fuzzy both pre- and post- attack. In any case this would clear the air. Or at least some of it. There was still that whole 'big bad dark looming shadow of a stalker-murderer still hanging over them.



"That was uh, quite a night, huh? Pretty... ridiculous. Or uh. Hmm." Okay, so maybe small talk wasn't her strong suit, but to be fair, how exactly does one start a conversation on this topic? It was horrifying, albeit really really interesting, but still horrifying. Not particularly something you'd want to admit happened. "Honestly I was kind of hoping you knew a little more about what went down than I do. Cause right now I've got a few theories but they are probably very wrong."

Now that it was light out and impending doom wasn't lurking right next to them, Mina took a second to actually study his features. She sort of did this to everyone she met, partly as an artist looking for new and interesting patterns the face can take, and partly because of how temporary everyone in her life seemed to be. No one ever stuck around very long so she tried to commit every curve and angle of their face to memory. This often gave her the outward appearance of staring far too long at people, or simply just being exceptionally attentive.