"I like to come out here when I feel heavy with a conflict in my life"
"floating through the water like that, giving up control and letting the waves control where you go, has a way of calming you."
"It feels like you're letting th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did Derek would still be a main character.
Song - Tongues // Joywave feat. KOPPS
Celeste's POV
Celeste Lune sat delicately beneath a large willow tree, carefully balancing a weathered, red leather journal on her thighs and daintily biting into a crisp, red apple.
She let her eyes flutter shut and took a moment to let her senses be flooded with the sounds of the vast forest that surrounded her.
Celeste had stumbled upon the Beacon Hills Preserve a few days after her family had moved to the small town. She was ecstatic to find such a large, relatively solitary expanse to take refuge in.
After all, she had always preferred the quiet purity and sense of tranquility nature offered, as opposed the fast-paced, corrupted feel of more heavily populated areas.
She was very pleased to have found many untouched hideaways in which she could relax.
After listening intently to the low whistle of the soft summer breeze and the cheery chirping of the birds, she returned her gaze to the ink-filled pages of her beloved journal.
She pursed her full lips in thought, her long, dark hair cascading around her as she leaned down slightly towards the book, neatly jotting down the basis of the next line of her forming poem.
Celeste adored the art form that was poetry.
It was one of the few forms of self-expression that she felt could get her emotions across in a sufficient way. Spoken words were fleeting, and, in her opinion, have often lost their meaning due to overuse.
One of her favorite aspects of poetry was how therapeutic it could be. When she felt conflicted with a decision or confused by the inner-workings of her own mind, she would simply turn those feelings into poetry, and then translate it back into thoughts.
She found that by analyzing her words, she could discover thoughts that were lurking in her subconscious.
Currently, she was taking sanctuary in what was arguably her favorite secret hideaway she had discovered to date. She gazed out at the lovely view around her, admiring the enormous weeping willow trees draped with long, soft strands of Spanish moss.
She loved the way the moss seemed to be reaching towards her, whispering the secrets of the world in a wise, comforting tone.
