Stiles Stilinski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
voluntaryapnea) wrote2014-07-26 11:25 am
voluntaryapnea) wrote2014-07-26 11:25 am
Entry tags:
- allison argent,
- as if i had a soul to steal,
- bucky barnes,
- emotional tether,
- feel it pull me underneath,
- flood: last laugh,
- game: tlv,
- i can hurt you from inside,
- i think her death it must be killing me,
- life is but a dream,
- like the sun came out,
- lydia martin,
- not just a girl,
- nothing in this world i wouldn't do,
- scorpius,
- scott mccall,
- srsly needs something better than a bat,
- the devil within,
- there's still poison in our veins,
- will graham,
- you still got me
09. But I crept into your heart/You can’t make me disappear/Til I make you
[Day One -- Open Stairwell Spam]
[Stiles is in the stairwell outside the second floor. There's a small gash in his leg where he's been gauged by one of the psycho bumper cars, but he's barely even aware of it now. He's too worried about what's happening, about what kind of danger his friends are in. And really, the cut isn't that big of a deal. He's soaking wet from the flooded hallways of the fifth floor where he'd gone looking for Lydia, but he can't complain about that either. There had been rafts floating down the hall on that floor, but his gut told him that it wasn't safe. That he shouldn't trust them, so he didn't. He's hoping to bypass the third floor where the piranhas are, because really? No thank you. He'll pass on that if possible. But if turns out that's where someone he cares about is, that's where he'll end up.
Allison's room is on the second floor, and so is the infirmary. He's hoping that Allison is safely in the infirmary. He's not betting on it, because it's Allison and she's going to do what she can to help anyone who needs it. She won't just be sitting idle. It's not who she is. And maybe it's selfish of him to hope otherwise. Right now he has his priorities. He knows Scott is okay, knows that Jack is with him and okay. He worries about the others. Lydia, Allison, Needy. Bucky and Steve. Andrew. Cassel, Daneca. Peter. Dean. Sure, some of them are super-powered, but he's seen before during this kind of thing how little that matters. He hopes that Scott at least has an inhaler with him if he needs it this time. He hopes he doesn't need it.]
[Day One -- Hall of Mirror -- Open to Will Graham + Later to Scorpius]
[He finds himself in a corridor that seems alarmingly longer than usual and he honestly doesn't know if it's because it is longer than normal or if it's because the hall is covered in creepy ass fun house mirrors. Once upon a time these kinds of mirrors had amused him, and he vaguely remembers he and Scott being in one at a carnival when they were younger, mocking each other's distorted images.
It's less amusing now and a hell of a lot more unsettling. Especially when he catches a glimpse of himself in one of them and there's a dark smirk on his face for the briefest of moments and his heart leaps as he spins around in a circle, looking around anxiously because that isn't him -- it's the nogitsune.]
[Day One -- Voice Post for Lydia + Spam for Scorpius]
[He is alone, surrounded by hundreds of images of himself, brief glimpses of a him that is not quite him smirking, laughing. The anxiety he was feeling earlier has come back full force. That's when he sees it -- Void -- clear and in front of him, eyes dark, mouth twisted into a dark smile that he recognizes as the bringer of death. Without hesitation, Stiles raises his bat and slams it into the mirror, shattering the glass. He doesn't care about seven years of bad luck. It doesn't even cross his mind.
It's a futile action, because Void just appears in the next one, laughing at him.
"You think it's that easy to be rid of me? Your divine move doesn't matter here. You're never going to be free of me. I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill all of them, Stiiiiiles. And you're going to help me."
"Like hell," he retorts, shattering that mirror, too, face drained of all color.
"I'm gonna start with Allison. Always with Allison. And then Lydia. And finally your best friend is going to have no choice but to do the one thing that will stop me. Do you think he can do it this time?"
Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and swings again, shattering more glass, pulling in panicked, shuddering breaths as he tries to tell himself it is just this place. That it's messing with him, that it's not real, that Void is gone, trapped back home in a box made from the Nemeton.
"Do you want to save your friends, Stiiiiles? You know the one way that you can."
"Stop," he whispers, clutching onto his bat tightly with one hand.
"Make me," Void whispers, circling around behind him in the mirrors and then beside him, in front of him. All around him. Everywhere. "You have more friends here, don't you, Stiiiles? I can't wait to destroy all of them!"
A tear streaks down his paler than usual face but he makes no effort to brush it away, reluctantly opening his eyes and staring at Void in the mirror. Stiles' gaze darts to a broken shard of glass on the floor, long and jagged. He swallows heavily and he hears the voice -- his own, but not really -- chuckle. He lets go of his bat, lets it clatter to the floor and reaches for the shard, clutching it in his hand tightly, feeling the sharp edges cut into his skin as his heart begins beating faster.
"It isn't a katana, Stiiiiles. But it'll do if you have the guts."
Months of terror flash through his mind in seconds, make his fingers curl more tightly around the glass as he presses it against his stomach. He catches sight of the other version of Void -- the version that isn't him, that's wrapped in bandages -- in one of the mirrors behind him, his teeth bared and mouth open wide, waiting.
He plunges the glass as deeply as he can, pain shocking his system as he falls to the floor amidst the rest of the broken glass. His communicator hits the ground beside him and distantly he wonders if it's broken. He doesn't realize that it's clicked on in a private voice feed for Lydia.
He passes out shortly later, blood pooling around him on the ground, coldness settling on his body as he waits for the darkness to take him for good this time.]
[Day Two -- Infirmary -- Open Spam]
[Everything hurts. Is it supposed to hurt after you die? he wonders distantly. He should have asked Dean when he had the chance, he supposes, but too late now.
He opens his eyes, wincing as he tries to sit up a little and figure out what's going on.]
[Stiles is in the stairwell outside the second floor. There's a small gash in his leg where he's been gauged by one of the psycho bumper cars, but he's barely even aware of it now. He's too worried about what's happening, about what kind of danger his friends are in. And really, the cut isn't that big of a deal. He's soaking wet from the flooded hallways of the fifth floor where he'd gone looking for Lydia, but he can't complain about that either. There had been rafts floating down the hall on that floor, but his gut told him that it wasn't safe. That he shouldn't trust them, so he didn't. He's hoping to bypass the third floor where the piranhas are, because really? No thank you. He'll pass on that if possible. But if turns out that's where someone he cares about is, that's where he'll end up.
Allison's room is on the second floor, and so is the infirmary. He's hoping that Allison is safely in the infirmary. He's not betting on it, because it's Allison and she's going to do what she can to help anyone who needs it. She won't just be sitting idle. It's not who she is. And maybe it's selfish of him to hope otherwise. Right now he has his priorities. He knows Scott is okay, knows that Jack is with him and okay. He worries about the others. Lydia, Allison, Needy. Bucky and Steve. Andrew. Cassel, Daneca. Peter. Dean. Sure, some of them are super-powered, but he's seen before during this kind of thing how little that matters. He hopes that Scott at least has an inhaler with him if he needs it this time. He hopes he doesn't need it.]
[Day One -- Hall of Mirror -- Open to Will Graham + Later to Scorpius]
[He finds himself in a corridor that seems alarmingly longer than usual and he honestly doesn't know if it's because it is longer than normal or if it's because the hall is covered in creepy ass fun house mirrors. Once upon a time these kinds of mirrors had amused him, and he vaguely remembers he and Scott being in one at a carnival when they were younger, mocking each other's distorted images.
It's less amusing now and a hell of a lot more unsettling. Especially when he catches a glimpse of himself in one of them and there's a dark smirk on his face for the briefest of moments and his heart leaps as he spins around in a circle, looking around anxiously because that isn't him -- it's the nogitsune.]
[Day One -- Voice Post for Lydia + Spam for Scorpius]
[He is alone, surrounded by hundreds of images of himself, brief glimpses of a him that is not quite him smirking, laughing. The anxiety he was feeling earlier has come back full force. That's when he sees it -- Void -- clear and in front of him, eyes dark, mouth twisted into a dark smile that he recognizes as the bringer of death. Without hesitation, Stiles raises his bat and slams it into the mirror, shattering the glass. He doesn't care about seven years of bad luck. It doesn't even cross his mind.
It's a futile action, because Void just appears in the next one, laughing at him.
"You think it's that easy to be rid of me? Your divine move doesn't matter here. You're never going to be free of me. I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill all of them, Stiiiiiles. And you're going to help me."
"Like hell," he retorts, shattering that mirror, too, face drained of all color.
"I'm gonna start with Allison. Always with Allison. And then Lydia. And finally your best friend is going to have no choice but to do the one thing that will stop me. Do you think he can do it this time?"
Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and swings again, shattering more glass, pulling in panicked, shuddering breaths as he tries to tell himself it is just this place. That it's messing with him, that it's not real, that Void is gone, trapped back home in a box made from the Nemeton.
"Do you want to save your friends, Stiiiiles? You know the one way that you can."
"Stop," he whispers, clutching onto his bat tightly with one hand.
"Make me," Void whispers, circling around behind him in the mirrors and then beside him, in front of him. All around him. Everywhere. "You have more friends here, don't you, Stiiiles? I can't wait to destroy all of them!"
A tear streaks down his paler than usual face but he makes no effort to brush it away, reluctantly opening his eyes and staring at Void in the mirror. Stiles' gaze darts to a broken shard of glass on the floor, long and jagged. He swallows heavily and he hears the voice -- his own, but not really -- chuckle. He lets go of his bat, lets it clatter to the floor and reaches for the shard, clutching it in his hand tightly, feeling the sharp edges cut into his skin as his heart begins beating faster.
"It isn't a katana, Stiiiiles. But it'll do if you have the guts."
Months of terror flash through his mind in seconds, make his fingers curl more tightly around the glass as he presses it against his stomach. He catches sight of the other version of Void -- the version that isn't him, that's wrapped in bandages -- in one of the mirrors behind him, his teeth bared and mouth open wide, waiting.
He plunges the glass as deeply as he can, pain shocking his system as he falls to the floor amidst the rest of the broken glass. His communicator hits the ground beside him and distantly he wonders if it's broken. He doesn't realize that it's clicked on in a private voice feed for Lydia.
He passes out shortly later, blood pooling around him on the ground, coldness settling on his body as he waits for the darkness to take him for good this time.]
[Day Two -- Infirmary -- Open Spam]
[Everything hurts. Is it supposed to hurt after you die? he wonders distantly. He should have asked Dean when he had the chance, he supposes, but too late now.
He opens his eyes, wincing as he tries to sit up a little and figure out what's going on.]
no subject
But then she sees the Joker's message and she wishes she hadn't ignored the warnings. Her bad feelings suddenly become a lot stronger, and it's not just a feeling. She heads for the stairs, she needs to find the pack. Allison especially. She hasn't dealt with something like this before. But also Stiles and Scott.
Instead of heading up to the second floor to find her best friend, though, she finds herself being pulled down. Toward Stiles' floor. She might not have enough time. So she pulls her communicator and starts the feed.]
Stiles? Stiles, where are you?
Voice
Lydia?
Voice
[She knows she's repeating herself, but she doesn't care. This is what is the most important at the moment. Finding him.]
Are you okay?
Voice
His voice is ragged and tired when he speaks.]
I'm sorry.
Voice
[Her voice is suddenly a lot higher and breaking as she talks.]
Stiles just tell me where you are! I can find you!
Voice
[If possible, his voice is even more distant now, as unconsciousness threatens to take over.]
Voice
[She can hear his voice fading, he's tired, he must be hurt, and it's terrifying.]
Voice
Voice
[When he doesn't reply, she calls his name. Again and again. In the back of her head, somewhere, she remembers that the barge can bring people back. But this is something else. There's a flood, or-- not a flood. The Admiral isn't in charge.
And everything she's feeling is so strong. She knows death is coming. And she knows it's for one of them. She knows because it feels like someone is tearing her apart. Just like it had the night they lost Allison.]
Please be okay.
I need you to be okay, Stiles.