silver flames

[braces]

Darkness creeps on the Charon, lights flickering in and out as they sway with the motion of the ship. The same old thing on just another day. This way of life has become so constant and common. Water leaking into the holds, rust decaying the ship from within and without, electricity that barely seems like it'll survive. But it strives on, the Charon continues to trudge through the waves to it's unknown destination. Maybe the Charon was a metaphor for its captives. How ironic a taste that left in Allison's mind as she contemplated that thought. Allison thought a lot these days. She thought about the cycle of life and death. She thought about strength and she thought about power. She thought about Scott. All of it was ever-present on the ship and Allison just thought about it all. Even as she stood perfectly poised and aimed an arrow at mattress she has set up for practice she thought about these things. She notched her bow, she pulled it taut, she held her breath, then she sighed as she released the arrow and it cut through the air to embed itself in a mattress that never stood a chance. Tonight she thought about power. Stiles talked of power. He talked about craving power and he fought with her like she didn't know what it fucking was to want power. She remembered watching Peter kill her aunt. Another arrow gone. She remembered the note left on her in her mother's words. Another arrow loosed. She remembered the kanima grabbing her from behind in an act of betrayal as her grandfather bargained with her life. Another arrow gone. She remembered Matt crouching over her as she laid paralyzed on the ground, declaring that if he couldn't have her then no one could. And another. And she remembered the look on Boyd's and Erica's faces as she shot them down like animals. Her last arrow embedded itself next to the others. All dead center. Allison trembled with tension and breath she hadn't released since the first arrow. She was taut as a bow ready to be set loose. She remembered what it was like to suffer and feel weak and beat down. She still knew what it felt like. That was all that had happened at home. On the Charon she had other worries. There was a slight tremble in her hands as she reached for the arrows. She didn't remember crossing the room. One by one she placed them back in her bow as she thought of her mother, dead but alive. As she thought of Wesley, her trainer and her killer. As she thought of Jackson, a monster and her best friend. Who wouldn't want power here? Who wouldn't want control? Allison was begging for power and strength before and now she was practically screaming for it. She was drowning in the waves that pushed the Charon forward and she was screaming for the strength to carry on. Had she considered Stiles' route before? Had she thought about what power could do for her? No one could ever make her feel weak again. Then she came to Scott. She took the last arrow in her hand and turned it over, touching its sharp edge with the tip of her fingers. Scott. Scott. Scott. Kate had taught her strength. Victoria had enforced it. Chris had enhanced it. Gerard had distorted it. The Argents had shaped Allison, for better or worse. She loved her family. They were crazy and malicious and violent and prideful and she was of them. She was Kate and Victoria and Chris and even Gerard all in one. She was an Argent by the purest of blood. She was a leader of people who followed a code that bent to their will. That was because everything bent before an Argent. Except Scott. Scott knew her, he knew what made her. They had talked about this, after all. He knew her and he still loved her. Allison started as she realized a tear was rolling down her cheek. She touched cold fingers to the water, pulling away and staring at the tear as though it were foreign. Then she wiped it the rest away on the back of her arm as she carried her bows and arrows back to the starting point. She didn't need power. She needed to stay grounded. She needed to stay real. Scott had told her once that she was his anchor, well he was hers. He reminded her of the other qualities that made an Argent. Strength, skill, light, valor, and all those things that had been buried but Scott dug up again. She let out a long sigh as she notched another arrow and pulled her bow taut. Allison was an Argent. And she didn't need to be anything else. She loosed her arrow and buried it dead center in the mattress. Allison was an Argent made better.