voluntaryapnea | (001) Video

Entry tags:

(001) Video

[Well here we go. He is on a ship and he thinks for the briefest of moments about making a joke about calling it the Ship of Dreams because Lydia has made him watch Titanic a few too many times. But it sounds lame even to him, and he's still not feeling that great about...anything, really.

After a long moment of hesitation, he turns the camera on and gives a small smile that looks a bit more like a grimace than anything. His tone is light and friendly, even if his expression is tired, his skin a bit too pale, and there are bags under his eyes that indicate it's been awhile since he's had any decent sleep. He's still cold, still achy and nauseous, but he knows he's going to get better from that eventually. In theory.]

So I have to admit that the irony in this is kind of hilarious. I mean, my dad's a sheriff and I'm not even out of high school and here I am on a ship about to be a warden.

[He pauses. Warden definitely beats being possessed, so he's rolling with it. It's what he does.]

Can't say this is exactly how I figured things would turn out, buuuut. [He shrugs, looking down for a moment.] It sort of does beat the alternative, so I guess I'm happy to be here.

I'm Stiles Stilinski.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[And that's a weird thought. That their lives are a comic book or something, somewhere. If he thinks about it for too long, he's fairly sure his already pounding head might actually explode and make a mess over the bed and carpet.]

Good. That you've been okay. Not that it's not different from home. [That part doesn't thrill him right now. But he's talked with quite a few people already and for the most part they seem to be nice and friendly. He knows they won't all be.]

I'd ask why he'd do it on purpose, but I'm not sure I want to know. [Knowing someone's motives don't generally matter that much when it comes to the people they've dealt with. Or will deal with, in Scott's case. He's silent for a moment, chewing his lower lip. It's still so weird to be looking at a younger version of his best friend, but it's probably weird for Scott to be looking at an older version of Stiles, too.]

Okay, so not that different from home people-wise, ports and floods that sometimes suck, superheroes are real, everyone knows you're a werewolf. Anything else I should know about this place?

[He doesn't say that home's not so bad, cause...well. Whatever's going on with Stiles, it happened at home. He leans back in his chair again, frowning while he thinks - he still has that look, sometimes, like pondering is really difficult - but eventually he shakes his head.]

Not really. I mean, I can tell you about the people I know, and - wait, did anyone even explain floods yet?

[This is why he would be a terrible tour guide. At least he's taking to the differences with Stiles without too much trouble, even if there's plenty of concern. He's been missing his friend.

And he still smells the same, so. That helps.]

Not really, no. People keep mentioning the floods, and I'm guessing they're not the normal kind of floods if they turned you into something besides yourself, right?

[He takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his head and moving over to the desk on the other side of the room, rummaging around in the drawer until he found a bottle of aspirin. Thank God. He dry swallows two down and puts the bottle back. He's still kind of amazed the cabin is an exact replica of his bedroom. Which reminds him...he looks at the walls with all the photographs and articles tacked up on the walls and connected with red string. That's gotta come down soon.

He moves back to the bed and looks at Scott again.]

Yeah.

[Scott settles his hands in his jacket pockets again. He doesn't have many mannerisms or ticks that show him as withdrawing, but this feels a little like a shield.

He doesn't need one with Stiles. Just from himself. From his...other self.]

So it's like - every now and then, the ship kinda shakes, and the Admiral will make an announcement like, 'we've taken on water' or something. Only it's never water, it's like. Weird stuff. Oh - there was a flood where Peter and I thought we were from Star Wars. The last one made us tell the truth, but only if someone like, asked a direct question.

And a few months ago, there was one where we ran into another Barge. Or became another Barge. Wardens were douchebags, and we were trying to make inmates worse instead of better. I was...I was an alpha, there. I killed Derek's uncle.

[He still remembers memories from that life, though they've begun to fade. It still makes him uncomfortable. His eyes wander away from Stiles, take in the string, and the pictures, and he doesn't remember Stiles' room ever getting this crazy.]

Am I allowed to ask what all this stuff is?

[Stiles watches him as he starts explaining what the floods are. Yep. That's definitely as unsettling as he thought it might be, the way people kept talking about them. Although the Star Wars one might have been kind of fun. He knows Scott at this point still hasn't seen Star Wars unless he somehow watched it while he was here and he makes a mental note to give his friend a hard time about it later.

He blinks a couple of times at the idea of Scott killing Peter. Or anyone, for that matter. It's about as likely as Stiles suddenly developing the ability to fly just by thinking about it, as far as he's concerned.]

Okay well for the record, you didn't kill Peter. [He hesitates, not sure how much he should say about any of it.] Derek did that.

[He takes a deep breath, and looks at the walls, raking a hand through his hair.]

Yeah it was me...trying to piece together a lot of the stuff from home. You know, weird stuff. A lot of it was my dad's past cases that were unsolved.

[He chews on his thumbnail, dropping his gaze to the floor.]

[Scott nods. It's not something he really had confirmation on, and before that flood - that was the plan. Kill Peter, stop being a werewolf. Be normal again. Only during that flood, he saw it didn't work. Maybe it would never work. He just became...worse.

He tries not to let it show how much a relief that is, to hear from Stiles, but it is.

The pictures are...a little easier to focus on, at least, and he goes to the nearest sit, reaching up to twang a red string.]

Oh. Wait, did you find any links? [He looks at Stiles over his shoulder, face open and earnest. How long has weird stuff been happening in Beacon Hills?]

[Stiles glances up at him at the question, and then looks over at the walls that Scott is studying, a soft sigh escaping him.]

Yeah. A few here and there. It was sort of a work in progress. [And now just looking at all of it makes him feel anxious and kind of nauseous.]

Were coyotes are also a thing, by the way.

Were coyotes?

[He turns back to the pictures like maybe he'll see one, but when none show, he turns back toward Stiles. This isn't a good thing to be talking about, not now. He wants to know - God does he want to know - but not when Stiles looks like he's going to throw up or pass out.]

I guess I'll find out. Hey, do you want me to bring you anything? Something to eat, or, I don't know. Tea? [People drink tea when they're feeling sick, right?]

Yeaaaah. [Really, every day in Beacon Hills these days is like Halloween or something.]

Maybe not. Not if you stay here. Staying here might be good.

[He grimaces and shakes his head at the thought of food. Food does not sound the least bit appealing. Mostly he just wants this stupid headache to go away.]

No, but thanks, man. I'm all right.

[Scott doesn't know how to take away pain yet; if he did, he'd offer that. As it is, he shrugs, offers Stiles half a smile.]

I can't stay here forever, dude.

[He almost says, who would want to, but from the look of things, he's going home to something nasty.]

[It's cool, Scott. Right now he wouldn't want Scott to do that anyway. Reminds him too much of the night he'd forcibly taken pain from Scott.]

No, I guess...probably not.

[Yeah that's gonna be a fun thing to find out. :c]

It's okay, Stiles.

[It's that earnest way of his - the way he can focus on one person like they're the most important person in the world to him. And it's hard to say if it's naivete or an innate trust, but--]

Everything's gonna be okay.

[So many fun things to learn, Scott. :/]

[His chest tightens at Scott's reassurances, and the guilt he feels is practically tangible. But he forces a small smile and nods. He wants to believe it, and maybe if he can do this, if he can just get through this and focus on the new road ahead, eventually it will fix things back home.]

I know.

[He's missed Scott the last few weeks. He's seen him, but he's been trapped inside himself like some kind of mind prison and it just wasn't the same. At all.]

Good.

[It's not completely truthful, but Scott won't live his life not believing Stiles. It's Stiles. There's no one on Earth he trusts more, and he knows that Stiles has to trust him when he says things like this, too. Because it has to work out. Whatever happened, they'll make it right.]

Do you want me to stay?

[Stiles hesitates. He does want Scott to stay, but if he wakes up having nightmares, that'll lead to a lot of questions that he'd rather avoid. Then again he has no good reason to say no.]

Sure, dude. If you want to.

Cool. [He doesn't say it'll be like old times, because this isn't old. Sleeping at each other's house, staying up all night because they're morons - it's normal. And they could both use a little normal, right now.]

[Normal is definitely something Stiles needs right now. Desperately. He slips his shoes off and pushes them under the bed.]

So how long have you been on ye old ship, Scottie?

Um-- [He has to think back, and counts on his fingers - the months here and the months at home didn't really coincide for him - and his eyebrows rise in surprise.]

Um, seven months. I didn't...whoa. I didn't know it was that long.

[Seven months. He tries to imagine it. To imagine what it's been like for Scott all this time with no one from home around. Tries to picture how he might have faired for that long himself. Without his dad or Scott or Lydia. It's a strange feeling.]

Over half a year.

Seriously. Man.

[Over half a year - not alone, because Scott makes friends easily enough, and he's had friends here. But homesick. Missing other people. Missing his mom, and Stiles, and Allison.

Maybe it's time to go back. See them, and - find out what happens.]

It hasn't felt like that long.

[He's glad that Scott makes friends easily, even if Stiles is the opposite. He can be friendly with people if he can shut off the sarcasm for a few minutes and not inadvertently end up being rude. But actual friends? Scott was his only friend growing up and he was always fine with that. Now he has Lydia, too. Even that's different, really, but they're definitely friends.

But he's glad that Scott makes friends easily because the thought that he's been here for seven months without friends would be distressing.]

I don't understand this whole weird time thing. I mean you never vanished from home. Like, not even for a day, dude.

[And he would know. If he didn't notice on his own that Scott had went AWOL, Melissa definitely would have and she would have called him first thing. He lets out a breath and scoots to the far side of his bed before laying down, leaving Scott plenty of room next to him.]

I guess that's good, though.

[He pushes out of the chair and hops onto the bed, siting cross legged and looking down at Stiles. Laying down is probably good. Sleep is probably better. It doesn't bother him, hanging out to make sure Stiles does catch a few winks.]

I mean, people say that like, no time passes while you're here. You just hit pause, I guess. And the Admiral can just...grab people at different points in time? I guess?

[He shakes his head: time flux issues are way beyond him.] I don't know. It's like a comic book. Like, find me in the future or something.

Yeah, in the way that I and your mom and half of Beacon Hills would have been freaking the hell out if you suddenly vanished off the face of the earth.

[Stiles looks up at him silently for a moment, contemplating that. It means even though he's about to die back home, he hasn't vanished, and that's good. At least there will be some sense of closure and not a lot of what the hell is going on? and people out searching for him for no reason.]

Sounds about right, I guess, yeah. [He chews his thumbnail, gaze flickering up to the ceiling that's decorated with tiny stars and planets that he and Scott had stuck up there when they were kids. They were stuck around haphazardly since they'd been little and had to climb on the furniture. He can still remember his dad finding him standing on top of his headboard and Scott on top of his dresser that day -- pausing in the doorway, shaking his head and backing back out like nope. Not doing this today.]

Maybe just you and my mom. [And maybe Allison. Scott just smiles a little; it's always been Stiles and his mom, on his list of people to really care about. Then again, he's always been terrible at not caring about people.

Following Stiles' gaze, he tilts his head back, looks up at the ceiling. His smile turns into an all out grin, though, when he sees what caught Stiles' attention. He remembers that day too.]

Dude, those are still up there?

Dude, you're the captain of the lacrosse team. A lot of people would have noticed.

[He glances at Scott and can't help but smile, too.]

I think they're there for eternity, dude. And they still glow. Kind of impressive.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject