Her Ariel (Teen Wolf)

[ 1. ] A World I Knew Well

First day back after the whole Berserker incident. Lydia had refused to talk to anyone but Parrish and Mason for just under a week, furious at everyone else for just leaving her there as if she meant nothing. That's what she'd had drilled into her head; she was nothing. Sleepless nights spent holding her phone, typing messages she'd never send. Her mother worried, yes. But more so because she'd been acquiring wounds Lydia didn't seem to want to account for. As mothers do, she jumped to conclusions and started quizzing Lydia on interactions and who exactly she was hanging out with. After a talk lasting over an hour, Lydia couldn't take it anymore. None of this was helping; it just made it all worse. Many tears were shed that night, secrets kept behind sobs as she looked for nothing but her mother's comfort. Yes, she'd been forgotten before and yes she had grown incredibly distant from the group. But, at the end of that week, to have only received the odd 'hey, what's up?' from Scott and one rather poorly typed, late night text from Stiles asking where she'd been, that seemed to be playing on her mind more than it would on any other's.

These people were the only ones who knew. Them and Parrish. And seen as they all didn't seem to care, Parrish soon became a favorite on her phone. They instantly got on like a house on fire, finding interests she'd never even thought they'd have. They'd go off on endless debates about all manner of subjects, this new found friend seeming to be the only one she cared about now. Of course, first day back and it was all going to change.

See, Lydia was always top dog. Well, for the longest time, anyways. Right up until she decided it was okay to roll around in the dirt once in a while. Though, it seemed she'd been rolling for far too long. It was about time she got back up and back into business. The strawberry blonde planned to overthrow the current popular table, planting herself right at the head; back where she belonged. Of course, Scott was captain. But a new found group of hockey players had started to rise within the school. Of course, lacrosse would forever be the school's sport, but with people like Stiles on their team, they didn't have a chance in hell at being the popular sport. It's one thing someone like Scott striking gold once and hitting jackpot with Allison, but after bringing the whole popular population down in flames, sending the whole system into anarchy, he was never going to do it again. However, a girl who knows popularity like the back of her hand and wears perfectly would be allowed back in with open arms. Well, she hoped anyways. The plan was all worked out. All she had to do was initiate it.

The school would be hers again.
And then they'd all be sorry.

Best clothes on, Lydia clipped down the hallway. New bag in hand, she turned heads as she floated across to her locker. Over the last few months, she'd been focusing more on staying alive than her outward appearance. So she was greeted with shocked faces, remembering the beauty that was Lydia Martin. All part of the plan, yes. But it sure was a confidence boost. A spring was soon added to her step as she approached the blue door of her locker, swinging it open with a mix of strength and grace, fingers dancing over her books to find what she'd need for the day. All this attention had caused her lips to curl up at the ends into a wicked yet elegant smile, held in place by her cherry lip gloss. Everything was going to plan.

And then the cavalry arrived. First was Malia, basically collapsing against the locker next to her with a beaming smile. That only ever meant one thing.

'Where's loverboy?' Lydia asked after great hesitation, wondering if it would be sabotage to even acknowledge the other.
'Talking to Scott outside.' Was the simple response. Obviously Malia didn't want to talk to Lydia any more than she did. The strawberry blonde simply went back to the insides of her locker, touching up her lip gloss before slamming the locker door closed. The sudden movement must have awoken Malia from her fantasies, harsh eyes casting a confused gaze upon the other.