voluntaryapnea: (sickly -- lipbite looking up worry)
Stiles Stilinski ([personal profile] voluntaryapnea) wrote2015-03-04 08:15 pm

25. Release me from this curse I'm in/I've been trying to maintain/But I'm struggling

[Open Spam]

[Hours after being returned to the Barge, Stiles is still trying to pull his thoughts together and struggling to do so. Physically he feels fine. But every now and then he catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Any time he turns to look and see who or what it is, it vanishes quickly. He wants to chalk it up to the lack of sleep at the port.

Truthfully he's worried. Fleeting as it is, he's familiar with this sensation. This things aren't quite right feeling that's settled into his chest as he goes to check on Lydia in the infirmary, and then Dean at his room.

He checks in with Kira on the network, thankful she's now awake, and then goes to check in on the still coma'd Allison. Goes to check in on Scott and Liam. He makes his rounds on the Barge, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

The feeling doesn't leave him as he grabs food from the cafeteria, sitting alone at a table because he doesn't feel like looking for someone to sit with.

Something isn't right.]
lydiascreams: (Staring blankly lost unsure open)

[personal profile] lydiascreams 2015-03-05 05:01 am (UTC)(link)
[She's not actually hurt that badly. But for now, she's at the infirmary because her right ear won't stop bleeding. She doesn't get what happened, she's not sure why it's doing that.

And-- she's not always entirely sure where she is. Or why.

Lydia's just sitting on the bed, looking down at her lap when she sees someone approaching her.]

Stiles. [She smiles for a second, because she does recognize him, but then she looks around the room again.]

Did Ms. McCall say I can go home? [She's at the hospital, right? And then she lifts her hand to the bandage over her ear, and frowns.]
Edited 2015-03-05 05:03 (UTC)
lydiascreams: (Blank neutral)

[personal profile] lydiascreams 2015-03-05 09:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[She looks down at their hands when he reaches for it, but it's a confusing gesture. And his words only add to it, because they make no sense as far as she knows. She doesn't remember Ms. McCall there, but didn't Stiles go talk to her?]

She's not?

[Lydia shakes head head a little, then takes a deep breath and looks back at him.]

Can I still go?
lydiascreams: (Questioning headtilt upset stare)

[personal profile] lydiascreams 2015-03-06 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
The what?

[She asks, staring at him for a moment as she covers her bandaged ear with her free hand again. Considering that for a second before she turns back toward him, a puzzled expression on her face as she pulls her hand away all of the sudden.]

What're you doing here?
lydiascreams: (Excuse you questioning head tilt)

[personal profile] lydiascreams 2015-03-06 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
[She shakes her head, eyes him up and down as she shifts on the bed, away from him but mostly so she can turn toward him and take a better look.]

Who are you? [He's not wearing white.]

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semifreakingnormal: (oh where do we begin?)

[personal profile] semifreakingnormal 2015-03-05 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
[Scott goes looking for him; between stopping in at Kira's and seeing her wake and checking on...everyone he comes across, it's not surprising they miss each other at first. When he spots Stiles sitting alone at a table, though, he forgoes getting on line for food and instead drops into the seat adjacent from him.

There's something so old, so familiar in this, that he doesn't recognize something wrong. He just recognizes his friend, alive, looking well, and that's relief enough for him.]


[There's an apology lurking in his voice, settled on his shoulders. For not being with him through it. The more circumstances need them in different places, the more he hates it.]
semifreakingnormal: (hey brother)

[personal profile] semifreakingnormal 2015-03-12 03:57 am (UTC)(link)

[It's the unspoken conversation he responds to more, though; the look receives a faint nod, grudging acceptance that Stiles is right. It's why they're here. So he turns his attention to the fries, taking the time to stuff a few in his mouth.]

You didn't get back to the Barge, did you? [It's not really a question; there's no way Scott would have set foot on the ship without him. Without all of them.]
semifreakingnormal: (down to my core)

[personal profile] semifreakingnormal 2015-03-15 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[He nods, dipping another fry in ketchup mostly so he can drag it in a circle on the plate.]

Are you....

[He trails off, blinking a few times. Stiles isn't the only one who came back with something, and Scott is focusing a lot on seeing only what's really there.]

Is anything weird? Since we got back?

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surfaceshine: (Pensive)

[personal profile] surfaceshine 2015-03-05 09:11 am (UTC)(link)
[Dean, despite being one of the more mobile and capable members of the Barge population during their last ordeal, is not in great shape; he is, in fact, bad enough that even he admitted to it and accepted medical treatment without much of a fuss. He doesn't have a lot of energy left over for putting up a fight - it's mostly tied up with the intense nausea that hit him less than a minute after they were all pulled back onto the Barge and refused to let up even when he ran out of anything in his system to surrender.

Of the injuries he sustained, the categorically worst is the one he went in with: his still-healing hand from his reaction to the life he lived with the jaegers. It's been re-wrapped now, as have some of the worse cuts he accumulated at some point over the past five days; he appeared again at the end with slightly wider eyes and a cross hatch of freely bleeding cuts across his skin, wouldn't say where they came from, insisted that he was okay and he was. Until they came back here.

Now he's taking it easy on his repaired bed, mostly because he doesn't have many other options; after sleeping he can sit upright and does, but if he tries to stand or move, the vertigo puts him right back down again. So for now he stays put, sleeps off and on, and reads the network in short stints of five to ten minutes before he has to stop and close his eyes again.
surfaceshine: (Dizzy)

[personal profile] surfaceshine 2015-03-06 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
[Dean is tough, but even he can only do so much to fight back against his own body. He hasn't eaten anything, drank only water, so he's doing as well as can be expected as long as he stays still and quiet in his own room, listens to the signals his body is sending him, and endures.

He has always been skilled at enduring. He is working with painstakingly slow, steady care to change the dressings over the cuts along one of his arms when Stiles knocks; he's propped upright against the wall, but closes his eyes anyway against the sound, leans his head back and breathes out to steel himself as well as to determine how likely he is to last long enough to have a conversation. Part of him still wants to send Stiles away, but more than that is the vague knowledge that not only will he just come back later, but he will also leave if Dean tells him to.

He swallows, opens his eyes again and calls just barely above a normal volume, his voice sandpaper rough.

Edited 2015-03-06 04:04 (UTC)
surfaceshine: (Banged Up But Fine)

[personal profile] surfaceshine 2015-03-07 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
[That is, in fact, what is giving Dean a bit of pause too; he's more than skilled enough with simple cleaning and wrapping that he knows to trust his gut instinct when it tells him something is wrong, or that what he's doing hasn't been enough. He's not entirely sure how much time has passed, not really, but some of the cuts have dried up and clotted over like they're supposed to. Others...

Dean glances up at Stiles when he comes in, just his eyes flicking up, and then back down to his efforts. The hunter is holding gauze against the deeper end of the long, curling cut, watching it slowly bleed through just above the inside of his elbow. His lips are pressed together too as he works to puzzle it out.

S'okay. Dirty knives, probably. [He glances over to a set of drawers along the opposite wall from his bed, some of the only ones to survive his last bout of temper; he is very careful not to otherwise move.] Holy water, second drawer. Bring it here.
Edited 2015-03-07 06:05 (UTC)

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fireincarnate: (Default)

[personal profile] fireincarnate 2015-03-08 02:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jean doesn't realise, yet, that she hasn't quite escaped the haunted tower. She's clearly distracted - by pain and exhaustion, by the echoes of death in her head - but maybe eating something solid and warm will make her feel a bit more human.

She manages a smile, when she slides in across from Stiles.]
fireincarnate: (Default)

[personal profile] fireincarnate 2015-03-21 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
[She raises a hand, tilting it back and forth.] Been better. Been worse. You?
Edited 2015-03-21 08:14 (UTC)
fireincarnate: (Default)

[personal profile] fireincarnate 2015-04-08 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
[A bigger smile this time, warmth and gratitude, as she grabs a few.] How'd you do in port?