The Beat of the Heart of the Woods. (OPEN)

Morgan had come to in impasse in his investigation of the events that had occurred while he was away. There was no clue as to what plagued his little brother or what monster hidden behind the face of a human that was behind the murder of his dearest friend Laura. Beacon Hills had become a dark place where he stood as a sole light fighting against the tide of shadows yet to come. Perhaps it was because of Laura whispering in his ear, like she would when they where in high school when she wanted to share some secret; usually some story about her family that was amusing or embarrassing. But he found himself escaping the bustle of the busy Shopping District and with in a glade that Laura had shown him when they where younger. He felt a calm that he not felt since he had come back to Beacon Hills, it was if Laura was there with him, smiling over his shoulder, her face buried into his shoulder as she listened to him strum some nameless tune on his lyre.

Days like that where common for them and amusingly enough they where more often then not mistaken for a couple, but in truth they where like brother and sister even though they shared no blood. Their bond was a timeless thing of choice and Morgan would wait till he would be reunited with his dearest friend for the rest of his near immortal life. So here he was sitting on that same log, just like all those years ago strumming another nameless tune on his lyre from memory with his own haunting voice singing out in harmony with it. Little did he know there was a certain strawberry blonde banshee that would be drawn to his melody like a moth to the flame, perhaps Laura was behind this chance meeting of fate? Only time would tell.

Tag; Lydia Martin
Words; 281
Notes; At last they meet!

Morgan had become lost in his haunting lament, as memories of Laura and of others that had left him behind to walk into the all father’s embrace. Images of fair elven folk that sometimes resembled people he knew in this life danced on the edges of his mind. Whether it was his life he lived now tainting his fragmented memories or if certain people actually reminded him of his past loved ones was left unsaid for even he did not know the answer. A cold wind blew pass and flickered his long hair around like a wave crashing on the shore and he glanced skyward and noticed that the sun was setting slowly painting the sky in a multiple colors paving the way for the midnight ink of the night to come. He returned to his lyre with a sigh and continued to play another haunting lament, one that spoke of a place forgotten to time.

So lost in this melody was he that his usual sharp senses of hearing and sight failed to detect the approach of a girl with a vaguely familiar head of strawberry blonde hair with a set of green eyes that seemed haunted by death. He lazily strummed his lyre as he pondered on where he recognized this girl from and it soon came apparent to him, as the girl that was one of the objects of his little brother’s affection was standing before him, this girl was the Lydia Martin. He wondered what haunted her eyes; it was almost as bad as his little brother’s. Perhaps this meant he would gain his answers at last? He glanced at the girl’s aura and noticed the similarity to the man he met before and could tell immediately that she was of the Bean Sìth, well not like the ones he encountered in the Otherworld but like the man he met a while ago. He noticed that she recognized him as well and he offered a blinding smiled that spoke of starlight. He cocked his head to the side as he heard he clear her throat and say quietly “hey”. She seemed meeker then what he last heard of her. His brother spoke of how head strong she was and how smart and pretty she was. But this girl was a haunted shell lost in the dark without a guiding light, till now… he hoped he could be that light to her and hope in return she could offer up answers for his questions that where left unresolved. So he nodded to her in greeting and spoke up in that clear as night accented melodic voice of his that was not like his from long ago when he lived last in Beacon Hills.

“And hello to you Lydia, welcome to my little sanctuary among the trees”

Tag; Lydia Martin
Words; 469
Notes; N/A