001 ☾ tick tick boom

[betamax]

[SPAM]

[He wakes up in bed with a mouth full of ash, or at least that's how it tastes and a splitting headache like the vodka he'd been mixing his punch with finally caught up to him. But Scott said that didn't work for them, that they couldn't get drunk, let alone hungover, and anyway it wouldn't explain the taste in his mouth.

Slowly, it comes to him. The pulsating sound in the back of his head, the feeling of being drunk even when he shouldn't have been. Getting dragged somewhere, blurry, dizzying shapes passing by, looming. Hard, cold metal at his back, and then getting doused in kerosene, the shadowy figure with the booming voice asking him questions, and once everything caught up, he bolted out of bed. Lunged for the door, jerked at the handle a few times before finally just pushing. It gave way easily as panic rose, as the rest of sense memory returned; the buzzing in his head, the harsh smell coating his skin, the inside of his nose, the blurry image of cops standing over them, and he could feel himself losing it, claws pushing out of his fingertips, the growl building in his chest, but he didn't care.

They tried to kill him. It wasn't new but he was sick of it, sick of getting hurt, sick of being afraid, but he wasn't the only one who'd gotten hurt because of him this time. Scott, Malia, he needed to find them, needed to make sure they were okay, like the shadow-man had said they would be, and the howl that clawed its way from his throat as he stepped into the hallway, as he scampered down the hallway in search of familiar scents, desperate and plaintive like it had been when he was stuck in the well, was all instinct.

Help. Pack. Where are you.]


[PUBLIC -- Video]

[Later, after he's had a chance to calm down, after everything's broadened out, dulled into something he can process, something less intense, he retreats to his room. He remembers now, more clearly. He washes the gasoline off, scrubs and scrubs until he can't smell it anymore, trashes the clothes and finds the phone that isn't his, sorts through the functions before getting it set up.

Not that he has any clue what to say.

He looks more than a little lost. Looks entirely too young to be on the ship at all, but he can't do anything about that now, and judging by the determined set of his jaw he doesn't seem to think it should matter too much. He chews his lip absently, takes a breath.

Okay. He can do this. No sweat. Never mind that he's already made an impression in exactly the way he didn't want to.]

Hey. So you got stars here. That's...cool, I guess?

[Yeah nobody mind the kid who was running around as the wolf boy earlier. He's fine. You didn't see that, right?]

Comments

Video

[voluntaryapnea]

[It's the day of new people, apparently. That happens every so often, where a bunch of new people suddenly show up in a short timespan. He's back to paying more attention to the network even as he hangs out in Scott's room, still waiting for him to wake up.]

Yeah, the stars are pretty awesome. Best view you'll probably ever have of 'em.

Video

[betamax]

[It's Stiles. Well that's a relief, in a way, at least a familiar face. Well. Another one. He relaxes a little, some of the uncertainty about this whole thing dissolving a little more.]

Better than Beacon Hills some days anyway, right?

Video

[voluntaryapnea]

[He blinks a couple of times. That wasn't the response he'd been expecting to hear. He doesn't know if this guy is someone he should know from home or not. He looks younger. Maybe by a couple of years. And it isn't that Stiles dislikes the younger crowd, it's that he barely has time to pay attention to people who aren't either trying to kill him or someone in the pack, or isn't someone they're trying to save from being killed by one monster or another. Either way, the kid clearly knows who he is. Maybe it's because he's on the lacrosse team? His mind immediately wants answers, searches for the ones that are the most plausible.

He's not that great at lacrosse. He doubts any of the younger kids at school has any clue who he is. Hell most of the kids in the junior class only know who he is because he's best friends with Scott. Or because they know he's the sheriff's son. Maybe that's why the kid knows him.]

Uh, yeah. Yeah, definitely a better view than the one from Beacon Hills. [For a second he considers pretending, one of those awkward moments where you act like you know the person who clearly knows you. But Stiles isn't that great at pretending.]

So you obviously know who I am, and you're obviously from Beacon Hills, but...I'm sorry, I have no idea who you are.

spam

[freezerburns]

[The Barge's werewolf numbers are currently diminished with Scott still asleep and Jackson gone, but Isaac's around to hear that howl - unfamiliar but desperate, urgent - and catch the scent of a werewolf he doesn't know when he goes looking for the source of it. It takes him a while to track the new wolf down because the guy's moving fast, even though the gasoline smell makes the scent easy enough to follow. When he does find him, Isaac doesn't get too close to first. He's young and he's obviously freaked out.]

Whoa, hey-- Dude, are you okay?

spam

[betamax]

[He whirls on the other in a moment, growls and snarls at him when he sees the movement, catches the scent. It's not one he knows, but it's werewolf too, which gives him pause, at least for a moment. His head tilts, curious, weighing him, although he's still coiled to pounce, ready to attack on a dime.]

They tried to kill me.

[It's gritty and hoarse, words forced through a throat and mouth ill-sized to accommodate.]

spam

[freezerburns]

[More than just tried is Isaac's first thought but he manages to keep a lid on that comment because wow it's so not helpful. He's trying to be better about that. If he's an inmate, whoever it was did manage to kill him, but that so isn't a good way to start this conversation. The tension in the kid's body, the rage in his voice, they're both familiar; he's had a lot of people try to kill him too.]

It's okay. You're okay. It's safe here. [Sort of? Isaac stays back, doesn't give him any reason to attack, though he's watching for it anyway.] No one's gonna hurt you. You know where you are?

[no_tell_belle]

[Venus has been keeping to her cabin more than usual so she missed the wolfy excitement earlier.]

There are stars are everywhere but we're certainly much closer to them here.


[And Lord, they're going to have to open a high school on board if they get any more teenagers.]

[betamax]

Right. 'Cause we're in space. Because we're on a spaceship.

[There's no sarcasm there, no doubt; he knows, he saw, he agreed, even if he can't remember the whole conversation.]

[no_tell_belle]

Blows your mind, doesn't it? I've been here a little over a month already and I still haven't gotten completely used to the idea.

spam

[lydiascreams]

[It's definitely not something Lydia is expecting to see when she heads to the art room that afternoon. She hears the growling, first. It's familiar, not one of an actual animal. And she instantly thinks about Jackson. She doesn't want him back there, but she was just at Scott's room, she knows it can't be Isaac, certainly not Allison or Scott himself.

And then she catches a glimpse of him, followed by an actual howl. Like a lost wolf, signaling it's pack.

She sees him and stills, feet away from him because she's been around plenty of out-of-control wolves before and she knows she might not be able to stop him. At least, not without hurting him and potentially just pissing him off more.

After a deep breath, ready to scream if necessary, she takes a few steps forward. The fact that his eyes are golden, not blue or red, help her feel safer about approaching.]

Hey. You need to take a deep breath.

spam

[betamax]

[He smells her before she comes close enough to be a problem. Turns to face her properly when she approaches, head canting as he regards her. Sniffs at the air; not-wolf. Familiar. He knows her, but the part that might have been able to identify past that, might have been able to provide a name, a reason to back down, is too far away right now. He snaps and growls at her, fingers flexing at his sides in anticipation; he wants to tear her apart, wants nothing more than that in this moment.]

Can't.

[strangehistorian]

Hello there! Yes, we do! Welcome to the Barge

[betamax]

Somebody needs to come up with a better name, it makes it sound like we're going to some garbage dump planet.

But, uh. Hi.

spam

[changeit]

[The howl catches him off-guard - not that most things around here should. Anything can happen on the Barge.]

[When he turns the corner and half-runs into Wolf Boy, he finds himself just giving up and admitting to shock. He might not be the only one, either; smelling faintly of death and with his cover-up mousse off for this excursion out of his room, he doesn't make the most normal first impression.]

Whoa! [He holds his hands up, eyes wide in surprise.] What're you doing?

Re: spam

[betamax]

[He smells like death. Smells like something rotting, and Liam growls and snarls in response, confused and irritated, swipes at him reflexively with his claws when he gets too close.]

None of your business. I can SMELL you.

[whatthefoxsay]

[Kira doesn't recognize the howl as a particular person, but it's reminiscient enough of Scott's for her to to feel it merit investigation. It's just as well, since the deck is one of her favorite places. There's only a handful of beings on the Barge who can say that.

So when she ducks into the hallway and comes upon Liam, she stops dead and peers at him carefully. If he's in full Beta mode, he'll see the glowing halo of her kitsune aura surrounding her physical body. And even if he's not, well. Here's the girl who fell down a flight of stairs for him.

Except she's eyeing him like she's not sure of who he is.]

Hi...?

[betamax]

[He's not yet, although it's close, more human awareness slipping through his fingers as the moments pass. They tried to kill him, would have if he didn't leave when he did, he KNOWS it, and the knowledge fills him with an all-consuming rage that threatens to overwhelm, that sharpens and lengthens and twists.

When Kira approaches, he's already starting to lose it, eyes glowing, claws and teeth pushing out, and when he sees her he takes a step back instinctively.  It could be bad, and he likes her.  He doesn't want to do anything stupid.]

Hi.

[It's thick, formed around teeth almost too big for his mouth.]

I need Scott.  Where is he?

[routemistress]

[Iris was on the stairs when she heard the howl. She didn't recognise it either, except for vague awareness that it didn't sound like anyone she knew; but she barely has time to consider that before she steps out of the stairwell and all but collides with a panicky stranger who has rather more in the way of teeth and claws than the average.

It's not like Victor, where she at least had time to take stock before they were tripping over each other; nor does this boy crackle with Victor's brand of hostility; but the suddenness and the breath of adrenaline bring him unavoidably to mind.]

Whoooa, 'old your 'orses, sweetheart! No one's going to 'urt you, I promise. Take a breath, eh?

[betamax]

[He snarls and growls, gnashes his teeth at her and lashes out with claws reflexively; he's run into a handful of people already, each one ultimately only pushing him deeper and deeper under the influence of the wolf. He needs Scott, needs his alpha, needs to find him and Malia and make sure they're both okay, but the need slips away easily in the face of crystallized rage, made easy in the wake of the latest attempt to collect.]

Won't. Make sure they won't.

SPAM

[theresalwayshope]

[The sound was distant, but the resonance of that howl shook Allison's very bones as she sat, restringing her bow in the middle of Scott's cabin.

Lifting her head, she felt herself changing. She still felt so raw after everything she'd seen from the flood, weary in spirit if not in body.

Pain. Alone. Protect.

Allison let the wolf have her head, and kept hold of her human visage, her glowing gold eyes the only sign of her unrest as she kissed Scott's forehead, left his cabin, and immediately started tracking a new scent that was wafting through the air, a hint of something familiar, a promise of things beyond the kinship of pack. The closer she got, the stronger those familiar traces became: hints of pine and dirt and wood, traces of things that reminded her of home.

Turning a corner, she found herself looking at a boy she didn't recognize, one who reeked of gasoline and pine and home...and Scott.]

...hello?

Re: SPAM

[betamax]

[He doesn't recognize the scent, can't possibly know it, but he smells the wolf in her when she approaches, would recognize like even if her eyes weren't glowing. It's still early enough there's something of human left, but it's harder to keep hold of as time passes, and he's never been great at it to begin with.]

Hi.

[The more he stares, the more he realizes he does know her. sort of.]

You're her. Aren't you.

[cons]

[ she doesn't mean to be a smartass to the new kid but ]

Do you come from a world that doesn't have stars?

[ it's her default mode. smartass. ]

[betamax]

No, of course we have stars.

[This look: so defensive.]

[Spam, a couple of days later]

[americasdirtiest]

[Mickey didn't see that: not the wolf boy, and not Liam's first network post. He's barely left his cabin or checked his own messages in the last few days, much less kept an eye out for new faces. He's been running himself ragged staying absolutely still, glued to the door at the top of the stairs. Watching for the moment Ian's near-catatonia breaks, terrified that it'll break in the wrong direction when it does.

It's only after he and Isaac clear the place of just about anything that could possibly be construed in any way as a weapon that he finally gives himself permission to leave for more than a food run. He's stretched thin as a wire by then and desperate for fresh air, even if he plans to immediately pollute it by taking his chain smoking up to the deck. He doesn't think much of it when he shoves past some random on the stairs.]

Move it, Ken Doll.

[He reeks of smoke and adrenaline -- and, well, just kind of generally, because he also hasn't paid much mind to showering lately -- and anger, always anger.]

[Spam, a couple of days later]

[betamax]

[Liam is...settling in. It's a process, but it helps having familiar faces around, even if they don't know him like he knows them. Even if the pressure of bearing that knowledge is more than he can stand, sooner or later. He didn't want any of them for friends when it first started, but now that they're not he feels alone. And maybe that's better, it would have been, before he got transferred, before that night on the roof when everything changed, but it feels like there's something missing, and it eats at him. Keeps him tense, on edge, and when the older kid moves past him on the stairwell, pushes like there's not enough room and drags a collection of scents behind that do little but push his buttons, it's really no surprise he stops, instead of continuing down like he should. Adrenaline's sharp, enough like blood to pluck at nerves already fraying but carefully contained, anger familiar enough that it slips alongside his own supply without his notice. Feeds and pushes, nags.]

At least I shower.