First Person: [Scott steps warily off the train and glances around the station. All of his senses are open; not only his eyes. Nothing about this place sounds or smells familiar, and he sees nothing that might give him a clue as to what is going on. He turns his attention to the watch he had been given.]
Uh... I'm not sure what that train ride was all about, or how I got there in the first place. I don't even remember getting on board. Is Ruby City in California?
[Maybe it's kind of like the Emerald City? But he would have noticed a tornado, he thinks... and Dorothy hadn't gone to Oz on a train.]
Hey, this isn't some kind of amusement park or something, is it? Though if it is... I don't know why I don't remember buying a ticket or why I'm here by myself.
[Going to a park by yourself is pretty lame, after all.]
Third Person: Blood rushed through his head. It was all he could hear at that moment; the thrill filling him full of adrenaline. And then a sharp whistle cut through the roar---it didn't affect his delicate hearing as badly as it did when he'd first become a werewolf, but it seemed to snap him to attention in a way it never had before he'd been turned. Then again, he'd never truly had the chance to play, before he'd been a werewolf.
The ball went live, and Scott darted around one of the other team's players into the open. It was almost like dancing, the way he moved, as nimble as a gymnast. Coach had been quick to point that out the first time he'd played after being bitten. Truth be told, he liked it sometimes. Some aspects of being a werewolf were a huge pain in the ass, obviously. But others were completely amazing. He loved being able to smell and hear things before he could see them---the opposing team's player coming up on his flank, for instance. He shot ahead and spun to his right to catch the ball as it was passed to him.
Clear. When it was just him and the goalie and he knew it the right time to take the shot, he swung his arms around to send the ball flying toward the net. It cleared without the goalie even coming near it.
When the crowd erupted into cheers, Scott finally seemed to come back to himself. He could pick out individual voices: his mom in the stands, Stiles on the bench... Allison. He didn't even have to search. His eyes landed on her face immediately, and a huge grin spread across his face as his teammates crowded around him . The goal was his and it had clinched the victory for Beacon Hills, but his prize was far greater than simply winning a lacrosse game. Allison's smile was like the sun; and if the thrill of victory had Scott's spirits high, then seeing her so obviously happy sent them absolutely soaring.
no subject
Uh... I'm not sure what that train ride was all about, or how I got there in the first place. I don't even remember getting on board. Is Ruby City in California?
[Maybe it's kind of like the Emerald City? But he would have noticed a tornado, he thinks... and Dorothy hadn't gone to Oz on a train.]
Hey, this isn't some kind of amusement park or something, is it? Though if it is... I don't know why I don't remember buying a ticket or why I'm here by myself.
[Going to a park by yourself is pretty lame, after all.]
Third Person: Blood rushed through his head. It was all he could hear at that moment; the thrill filling him full of adrenaline. And then a sharp whistle cut through the roar---it didn't affect his delicate hearing as badly as it did when he'd first become a werewolf, but it seemed to snap him to attention in a way it never had before he'd been turned. Then again, he'd never truly had the chance to play, before he'd been a werewolf.
The ball went live, and Scott darted around one of the other team's players into the open. It was almost like dancing, the way he moved, as nimble as a gymnast. Coach had been quick to point that out the first time he'd played after being bitten. Truth be told, he liked it sometimes. Some aspects of being a werewolf were a huge pain in the ass, obviously. But others were completely amazing. He loved being able to smell and hear things before he could see them---the opposing team's player coming up on his flank, for instance. He shot ahead and spun to his right to catch the ball as it was passed to him.
Clear. When it was just him and the goalie and he knew it the right time to take the shot, he swung his arms around to send the ball flying toward the net. It cleared without the goalie even coming near it.
When the crowd erupted into cheers, Scott finally seemed to come back to himself. He could pick out individual voices: his mom in the stands, Stiles on the bench... Allison. He didn't even have to search. His eyes landed on her face immediately, and a huge grin spread across his face as his teammates crowded around him . The goal was his and it had clinched the victory for Beacon Hills, but his prize was far greater than simply winning a lacrosse game. Allison's smile was like the sun; and if the thrill of victory had Scott's spirits high, then seeing her so obviously happy sent them absolutely soaring.