“And this, children, is a messenger of the Lord.” Stiles told his students, as he kneeled down before his chained prisoner, chuckling. “An angel. Where are your pretty little wings, angel?” He smirked.
Erica took a tentative step forward, studying the angel, while Isaac kept his distance. This was the first time they had seen an angel other than their books, but they knew what a fully grown one could do.
The angel opened his eyes slowly, landing on Stiles. “Genim.”
Stiles’ eyes narrowed. “It’s Stiles, dear messenger.”
The angel rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Your new body can’t hide your identity, Genim.” Stiles paused.
“Genim just doesn’t suit a body this young.” He finally replied, tilting his head slightly and looking the angel over, “But you, Derek, have stuck to the same host for two hundred years? How decrepit.“
Derek’s eyes blazed a fierce white, the only warning before Stiles was struck with a wave of rage. Behind him, Erica gasped before quickly stepping back to Isaac, who had visibly flinched. But Stiles could only laugh.
“Oh, please, dear, you are upsetting the children!” He exclaimed, smiling widely at Derek’s answering glare.
“Humans are not to be used to cater to your every whim, Genim.”
Stiles chuckled and leaned forward, “Well, Derek. We have never been ones to agree much have we?”