Entry tags:
001 ☾ tick tick boom
[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?]
[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?]
Video - Private
Okay, I don't know if you've talked to any of the others, but uh, Scott's sort of. Pretending he's Sleeping Beauty.
[He shifts the communicator over so Liam can see Scott curled up asleep.]
Do you -- want to come hang out though?
Video - Private
Yeah, that's what...that's what Kira said. I think.
[He stares at the image all the same though, a mix of the near-constant confusion he's had since he got here and concern etched into his features. There's something inherently wrong about the situation, and anyway he has to go. He spent his entire freak-out trying to find him, he can't wuss out now.]
Yeah, if that's okay?
[Like it might not be, like there might be a reason they would keep him out. Not like he knows if the others have told Stiles anything, after all.]
Video - Private
Yeah, it's fine. We're in 105. It's Scott's.
[He's barely been to his own room since he and the others retrieved Scott from the vet's clinic a couple weeks ago.]
Door's unlocked.
Re: Video - Private
[He's coming from practically the basement, so it takes a little while before he knocks on the door briefly and lets himself in.]
Hey.
[He knows the room well enough, or at least has been there before, so he looks for Scott, not that it takes long to find him.]
...have you talked to Kira about fixing it? I mean...she did it before.
Video - Private
What do you mean? How did she fix it? [And the fact that Scott's apparently been in a coma before is alarming, to say the least. Except it isn't before for Stiles. It's in the future. Which sorta makes it even more confusing to think about.]
Spam
"At least he doesn't look dead this time" should never be an improvement for anything. Shouldn't have to be a comparison.]
She shocked him. Like when somebody's heart stops. And he woke up and everything was fine.
How long's he been like this?
Spam
Couple weeks now.
What happened at home? Why was he in a coma? [He chews his thumbnail absently.]
Re: Spam
No, it wasn't anything bad, I swear. I mean...it was kind of bad, but it wasn't like it happened because of something else. It was a trap for somebody else, we had to make everyone think he was dead. Kira did...something to him, I'm not really sure what.
Spam
So he wasn't in a coma and he wasn't actually dead, but people thought he was dead because we set a trap for somebody involving a deadpool?
Spam
I think Kira's mom called it fox fire or something. But she touched him and he was basically in a coma for almost forty minutes. We had to make him seem dead so we could try to figure out who was behind the deadpool. Somebody was supposed to come check it for themselves.
Spam
Stiles has been doing the same thing for the last two weeks.]
I've been reading to him.
[He's not sure what makes him tell Liam that, but he reaches out and picks up his worn copy of Harry Potter.]
Re: Spam
Does it help?
Spam
Wanna take over for awhile?
Spam
But he spares a moment to look over when Stiles asks, eyeing the book.]
You sure?
Spam
I marked the page where I left off.
Spam
You couldn't find anything a little...happier to read to him?
Spam
It's Harry Potter.
Spam
[He's not really protesting. He just...needs to get things off his chest. It's been a rough couple days.]
Spam
Whenever I was sick, my mom would read it to me.
[His gaze drops to Scott's still form and he shrugs a shoulder.]
Spam
[Well now he feels like shit. Not that he really knows the situation, but he's hung out with the gang long enough now to know Mrs Stilinski is out of the picture for one reason or another.]
I'm not saying it's a bad choice. I'm sure it's fine.
Spam
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