“Soul sickness. I’m guessing that’s not just a fancy way of saying I’ll be depressed for a while.”
Stiles is standing in Deaton’s office, already looking a little weak on his feet as he leans against Scott’s arm for support. It’s totally just to make Scott feel useful, ‘cause the guy’s looked like he’s on the verge of a breakdown ever since he hadn’t quite managed to knock Stiles out of the way of that spell in time.
It’s not that Stiles is feeling woozy, feeling like his legs might just decide to go on strike at any second.
And if it is, that’s only because Deaton’s frowning at him in a way that actually makes him look nervous. Deaton. Nervous.
That’s never even remotely good.
“I’m afraid soul sickness is exactly what it says on the tin,” the man replies. “Your soul is literally weakening, beginning to wither. And if it dies off completely… well, that’s a fate—“
“If you say ‘a fate worse than death’ I’m gonna slap somebody.”
The older man sighs, brows going up as if to say ‘fine, I won’t say it then.”
Scott’s grip tightens on his arm, voice going too low, wavering.
“But you can fix it, right?”
“This is a battle the soul must fight on its own, I’m afraid.” And then, after waiting just long enough for both boys to start well and truly panicking: “There is one thing that might help bolster you, help your soul fight off this unnatural disease. But…”
“But what?” Scott cuts in as he falters. “Whatever it is, do it.”
So, apparently, soulmates are a thing.
“It’s not as dramatic as romantics would have you believe. Most people don’t end up in a relationship with their soulmates. Many don’t even encounter them.”
“But if you did, you’d know, right?” Scott, of course, is enthralled by the idea. Deaton’s head bobs noncommittally, and his bright expression falters.
“Your souls would recognize each other. Most certainly, they would leave an impression. But to the untrained mind it would be hard to discriminate from any normal emotional response – attraction, nervousness, anger, even, depending on the situation.”
Stiles glances to his friend, a smirk touching his lips.
“Why Scotty, you think you and—“ he was going to say Kira, he really was, but when he thinks about sparks of instant infatuation, he finds his mind jumping to Allison. Scott’s seems to as well, his eyes going shuttered.
Stiles lets the moment pass, looking back to Deaton.
“Ok, so you said ritual? Then let’s find me my soulmate.”
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