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 he freezes because this is a face he really, really hasn't anticipated seeing here. His eyes go comically wide, mouth hanging open just slightly. It actually takes a moment for Stiles to process the fact that Scott's hair is longer, too. And curlier. And he looks younger -- wait, what?

It takes him a moment to respond.]

I -- the summer after our sophomore year. Dude, what -- how old are you?

[It's the weirdest question in the world - okay, it isn't, but it feels like it is. When has the answer ever not been 'the same age as you?' It throws him off balance, almost enough to forget how time is fluid for the Admiral.]

Still kinda stuck in our sophomore year? I mean, sixteen, dude. Wait, you're not like, already a senior or something, are you? [Although that would be a weird relief in and of itself, knowing that Stiles survives Peter and...whatever comes next.]

[Stiles does not know what to say. God. Sophomore year feels like an actual eternity ago at this point. But that sends about a thousand more questions darting through Stiles' brain.]

Uh. No. Not a senior. Mid-junior year.

[This is so bizarre. But in a way it's kind of a relief because it means that Scott hasn't been through so much of the crap that never should have happened anyway.]

What's -- the last thing you remember from home, man?

Uh, prom. [He doesn't even technically know about what happened to Lydia, not yet.] Like, Mr. Argent trying to run me over outside the school.

[Which he has had some time to process. Plus, the one time he was spoiled for the future, it was only good things: being in control of his abilities, Allison not hating him, her dad not trying to kill him. So what he sees now is...worrying.]

You look like you haven't slept in forever. Where's your cabin?

[Prom. It takes him a few seconds to process that. He rubs a hand over his jaw. No, this is good, he tells himself. It's good that somewhere out there -- here, specifically -- there is a Scott who still has some semblance of innocence left.]

Wow, okay. That's...yeah. [He's struggling to figure out what to say when Scott asks where his cabin is.]

712. What about yours?

105. But just hang there, I'm gonna come over. [Stiles is acting extra Stiles-y, which is usually the prelude to 'dude I think you're a werewolf' or something similar. Which triggers his oh god, what if Stiles is a werewolf now too thought process, which is basically the sign to kick that thought process to the curb because what the hell, Stiles better not be a werewolf too. Scott came here to get rid of that, there's no way he wants it for his best friend.

He takes the communicator with him, but he's on his way, and it doesn't take very long to get six floors down. Once he's outside 712, he recognizes Stiles' door from home - and that's kind of nice, he realizes, having some small reminder just hanging out on the Barge - and knocks.]

[And Scott's face vanishes from the video feed and Stiles rakes a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what he's going to tell his best friend who hasn't gone through the things that he has in the last few months. It's not like much of it is going to be good news. He chews his thumbnail, debating what he should and shouldn't tell him. This boat may be some kind of second chance for Scott and he doesn't want to screw that up for his friend.

Right. The problem is, while he's a good liar overall, he's never been able to lie to Scott for long, and besides, the guy will know if he's lying. Why can't anything ever just be easy? He's pacing the floor on shaky legs when he hears the knock and he shuts his eyes for a minute before moving to answer it. He pulls it open and smiles faintly, stepping aside to let Scott into the cabin.]

Hey, man.

Hey. [Scott spent as much time in this room growing up as he did in his own: it's an extra piece of home, and he doesn't bother to stop the smile that pulls at his mouth when Stiles opens the door.

Like the first, though, it doesn't last long. Once the door is closed, concern wrinkles his brow.]

Seriously dude, you look like ass. What's wrong?

[He bites off the 'what happened.' He wants to know, but...maybe he really doesn't.]

[Stiles smiles back just as briefly before shutting the door and turning to face Scott. Who now has that very familiar puppy-eyed concern that's even more puppy eyed than usual because he looks so young. He'd almost forgotten how much his friend has changed in the last year or so.]

Thanks, Scott. Always good to hear. [His voice is all wry sarcasm.]

Just been kind of under the weather lately.

[He doesn't now if his friend will buy it or let it go, but hey, he's making the effort because really, Scott. You do not want to know. At all.]

[He hems, and he haws, and he knows Stiles is lying, he doesn't even need to cheat to know that - but he knows when Stiles doesn't want to talk about things either. In the end, he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets and leans forward. He can't shake the worry.]

Look, whatever it is - I know it's weird I haven't, like, been through it yet, or whatever. I talked to Lydia for like a minute a couple months ago, and she told me a couple things. It was completely weird.

But you're still my friend, dude. If you want to talk, I'm here. [He's always here.]

[Of course he knows. And Stiles knows he knows. They can read each other pretty well by now. Which makes sense considering they've been attached at the hip since they were kids. He watches his friend stuff his hands into his pockets and feels his chest tighten at Scott's words. But wait -- he's talked to Lydia?]

What did she say? I mean, what did she tell you was going on?

[Because maybe he already knows, and maybe he doesn't have to hide all this stuff after all.]

[He hesitates, just for a second, thinks about bluffing his way through - but there's no way he could keep that up. And something tells him that lying to Stiles right now would just be kind of...low.]

Not really? Maybe she wasn't, like...as far along as you. But I mean, she told me some good stuff. Like I get control of the whole werewolf thing, and Allison's dad isn't trying to kill me, and Allison doesn't hate me. [Which is important. The last face he saw before making his deal was hers after she saw him change for the first time. He tries not to think about that look much.]

[His chest tightens at that, because yeah. If that's all Lydia's told him, she obviously was from farther back than him. He wishes the sound of Allison's name and the thought of Chris Argent didn't make his stomach turn right now. He rubs a hand over his face, nodding.]

She was right on all three counts there. [He hesitates, swallowing hard.] And uh -- your mom knows now. And my dad. About like, everything. Don't worry, they're fine with it.

[He moves and sits down on his bed mostly because he's too tired to keep standing up.]

[He holds his breath for maybe two seconds at that news: he's been scared about that, about her finding out and hating what he's turned into. Or finding out and being put in danger because of it. It's probably a good thing he doesn't know what's coming right now. His shoulders aren't strong enough to carry the weight yet.

Running a hand through his hair, Scott grabs the desk chair and tugs it over so he can sit facing Stiles.]

Seriously? [A hint of the smile is back.] Ohhh my God, I didn't even...[He relaxes back into the chair and shakes his head. He didn't realize how much he wanted to tell her until right now.]

Oh-- [He leans forward, elbows on his knees again.] Right. Pretty much everyone here knows. Turns out it's like, way harder to keep a secret when there's someone with some crazy comic book power everywhere you look.

[Which is why Stiles is so very hesitant to tell Scott about any of the bad stuff that's happened. Because there's been so much of it. He feels older than seventeen. He feels much, much older than seventeen. He watches Scott sit down and face him, watches the smile that tugs at his mouth.

And a little of his own stress lightens at that. He can hardly remember the last time he's seen Scott happy about anything. And it's enough to make him decide he's definitely not saying anything about things like kanimas, darachs, alpha packs, ritual suicide or demonic fox possessions. And he's definitely not saying anything about Allison's death.

He finds himself smiling back.]

Yeah, seriously. [Granted, Melissa had been freaked out for a few days, but she'd gotten over it quickly and she and Scott were closer than ever.]

Are you -- [His eyes are wide again. Still, the idea that everyone on the ship knows that Scott is a werewolf is kind of unsettling.] Wow. Okay that's...a big thing. Is everyone, you know, okay about it? I mean, no one's tried to... [Hunt you, he asks silently, afraid of what the answer might be.]

[Stiles starts to smile, and it gets a little easier to breathe, to feel like they're home, or the new age difference is normal. He sees his friend beneath the sleeplessness.]

Yeah, and like, trust me, I didn't believe it either. There's even a hunter here and - okay, he totally freaked me out at first, I thought he was going to break out the arrows or wolfsbane bullets, but he's actually kind of cool.

[Trust worthy enough that Scott got him wolfsbane bullets. Just in case something happens. Just in case he should be hunted. But he's not comfortable even thinking about that, let alone saying it out loud.]

There was even this...really bad flood, it changed me into this totally awful version of me, and I thought for sure they'd go all...Argent on me. But they're cool. They get it, I guess. A lot of them have weird powers.

Oh, dude. Spider-Man and the Hulk are here.

[He leans over, resting his arms on his thighs as he watches Scott, listening intently. He's not overly surprised there's a hunter on board, but it does make him nervous nonetheless. The Argent's changed their code, but he knows that a lot of other hunters couldn't care less about a code of honor.

But this is the second mention of a flood he's heard and he frowns, trying to piece together why a flood would change Scott into a totally awful version of himself. He figures there's a lot more to the floods than just water. Of course there is.]

So you've been okay here? [He's relieved to hear it.]

Dude. Are you serious? I mean, I talked to Batgirl a little bit ago. And Spock. How is this even real?

It's completely real. I mean I guess that means maybe we're, like, from a comic book in someone else's world - but it's cool, right? And you kinda stop thinking about it after a while.

[He waves his hand at Stiles' concern, because obviously he's not the one that needs worrying about at this point.] Yeah, I've been okay. I mean, it's not that different from home in a lot of ways. Like, too many ways. But there are good people, and crazy people, and people you don't really know what to make of.

And there are ports, and floods, and sometimes they're okay, and sometimes they're hell. I'm not really sure if the Admiral does them on purpose or what. I mean, I hope not. I really hope not. [Because if it is, what the hell have they gotten themselves into?]

[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.

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