There's probably stuff I should tag for that I'm not thinking of
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Summary
“You better be ready,” Lydia says as she cleans dirt out from under her nails with an antiseptic wipe. Stiles can smell the lemon scent even from where he stands a few feet away. She’s probably going to end up covered in blood in a few moments, but she likes to be in control in any way she can, so he doesn’t tease her about this. “It’s time to start.”
“I’m ready,” Stiles says and he’s pretty sure it’s not even a lie. Hopefully.
Scott, Stiles, and Lydia each sit at one point of the triskelion that Lydia’s drawn on the tarp. The center is a tight knot of some language Stiles had never even heard of before this, written in ink in tiny writing. It’s beautiful and also makes him slightly nauseated. Lydia makes both cuts, so the blood drops from Stiles’ arm and Scott’s, too, into the center of the triskelion. There’s wolfsbane on Scott’s knife, not enough to make him sick, but enough to keep him from healing too quickly.
It’s a surprisingly simple thing, after that, for what they’re doing. Blood, a few words, and a little magic.
Just those things, and, for the first time in three years, Laura Hale gasps in a breath.
Or: Resurrected Laura!!!