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𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂'𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻
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𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯'𝘴 𝘈 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦
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ELEVEN HOURS. THE FLIGHT FROM Paris to California had been just over eleven hours. Charlotte Martin is exhausted; from the day of travelling and from the time she's spent away from home. The vacation was refreshing; it had been exactly what she needed. She sampled some of the best food she's ever eaten, illegally drank wine when Chris Argent wasn't watching, and took advantage of her time with two previous supernatural hunters. She had just about begged Allison and her father to teach her some basic self-defence, because in her words, 'We live in Beacon Hills.' So her bones ache and she can't wait to see her proper family for the first time in four months.
The blonde-haired girl waves goodbye to the Argents watching her off in the car and gives them yet another grateful smile. Charlotte inhales a deep breath and drags her suitcase up the brick driveway. The front door looms up in front, and for some reason, she's terrified of opening it. What if Lydia hadn't missed her? What if her mother didn't miss her? What if no-one even noticed she was gone? But before her knuckles can even graze the wooden door, it swings open and reveals the youngest Martin with a wide grin gracing her features. Lydia squeals in excitement and rushes forward to tightly engulf her sister into a hug, forcing Charlotte to drop her bag onto the ground. "Oh, my God, you're back!" she shrieks. Lydia squeezes the girl tighter. "I missed you so much! Why didn't you tell me you had landed? Allison said she'd message the group chat!"
