(open) i paced around for hours on empty, i jumped at the slightest of sounds

[mensrea]

Who: Stiles Stilinski and YOU
When: Night of Aereuer 8 (full moon)
Where: Various spots in Aefenglom
What: Semi-feral Arachne party games on a very special 18th birthday
Warnings: Language, animal death

[ After escaping from Sheva in the Wildes and absconding to Aefenglom, Stiles begins his hunt. Honestly, he’s not quite sure what he’s exactly on the hunt for – only that there’s a voracious hunger rising within him, an appetite that won’t be whetted by just any meal. And so, humming the happy birthday tune to himself loudly and offkey, he prowls from district to district from the city skyline. Those eight spider legs carry him vertically up edifices with no apparent effort, even make impressive leaps across significant distances between buildings. The sense of fear that usually holds Stiles back is gone; uninhibited, he experiments with his superhuman abilities in boyish delight, that joy tempered only by the unkind, savage grin stretching his mouth too wide. ]

It’s my party and I can cry if I want to, [ comes one such inspired ballad, interrupted by his sniggering as he swings upside down from where he’s currently perched. ] Cry if I want to, cry if I want to!

[ That’s if you’re lucky. Sometimes it’s – ]

It’s yo birthday, so I know you wanna ri-i-i-ide out. [ There’s a dog howling somewhere nearby in sympathy. ] Even if we only go to my-y-y-y house.

[ During the night, Stiles will make a nuisance of himself. Expect to find him cavorting through the streets doing eight-legged cartwheels, singing obnoxiously despite the hour, spinning webs in inconvenient locations, dropping by homes to pay friends unexpected house calls, etc. ]

( ooc | Full Moon Shift appearance details, CR & plotting comment, and info & permissions page. Stiles will not be hurting anyone. If threatened with violence, his Arachne instincts will force him to flee the scene. If you want to figure out a specific prompt for your character, hit me up! )

Comments

[mensrea]

Sorry about that, [ comes the insincere apology. ] I’ve just been in such a great mood tonight, you know? Wanted to share some of that magic with the neighborhood.

[ Derek may want to lean back inside the window, because Stiles is leaning forward regardless of whether he does or not – folding his arms on the bottom of the windowsill and pillowing his head atop them. ]

Guess what? [ Don’t bother guessing. He’s too excited to wait. ] It’s my birthday! Did you get me anything good? It's my eighteenth, so I think that warrants a little something extra.

[scyldig]

Happy Birthday. [ he says it almost automatically. ]

I didn't know it was your birthday.

[ and so he didn't get stiles anything. but! he's not kicking stiles out or trying to usher him back to his own house to wait out the moon so... that's almost like a birthday present? ]

Wait, do you mean it was your birthday yesterday or this coming day will be your birthday? [ things get confusing in the middle of the night. ]

[mensrea]

[ Congratulations, Derek. You have successfully confounded both boy and Arachne with that question. Blinking, Stiles dismisses it with a careless wave of his hand. ]

My birthday is the eighth. So, yesterday, I guess. Who cares.

[ Springing away from the window, he does a neat somersault in the air before the spider limbs alight on the ground. Definitely not a move Stiles would ever attempt in his right mind. ]

I’m celebrating now. Wanna come?

[scyldig]

[ it's as he's somersaulting that derek finally spots the fresh blood on stiles' shoulder. man, it's weird not smelling that. ]

Maybe in a minute. Come back up here for a sec first.

[mensrea]

Nah, you come down here.

[ In his current state, obstinance is the name of the game; Stiles isn’t about to be ordered around unless it suits him, even when the request is genial. ]

C’moooon, Derek.

[scyldig]

[ huff huff he really doesn't want to go down there that would require changing out of his pjs... ]

How about if I come down there, you tell me what happened to your shoulder.

[mensrea]

Sure thing, big guy.

[ Stiles is now spinning silk and pulling the threads into an intricate design with the spider limbs. Better get down here before he starts redecorating your front lawn. ]

I’m waaaaaaiting.

[scyldig]

Don't move.

[ points to eyes, points to stiles. except he really just points to stiles before ducking back inside and quickly throwing a shirt on and hopping down the stairs.

man, he misses not being cold and being able to just jump out the window. ]

Alright, [ he says as he exits his cottage, ] Come here.

[mensrea]

No touching, [ he warns in a sing-song pitch, the underlying threat in those two words nevertheless very real and very uncompromising. ] Cute PJs, by the way.

[ Abandoning his web sculpture (have fun cleaning that up later, Derek), he bounds over to the front door with an expectant air. ]

[scyldig]

Fine, whatever.

[ he's just casually ignoring that cute comment. and the web sculpture but ugh once stiles is less moon-high he's going to give him some grief about that. because you know the dog is gonna try to eat it.

anyway... derek somewhat warily moves around so he can get a good look at the bloody mess of stiles' shoulder. and what a mess it is. something clearly happened that wasn't just the transformation, but fuck if he can figure out what. ]

What happened? This isn't just from tonight.

[mensrea]

Wanna know what I told Scottie and the others?

[ Now that Derek has had an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity, Stiles is gleefully drawing away – but there’s an edge to that look, something dangerous and cold to the flat light of his eyes. ]

“The jeep’s hood fell on me,” [ he intones solemnly, rolling his eyes skyward. ] Malia didn’t believe me. Sure, maybe she’s behind in her school education – [ even now, even after everything, he’s defending her with affection and pride ] – but she’s clever. Not like Scott. Not at all like Scott.

[ The way his best friend’s name is bitten out – it isn’t promising. ]

[scyldig]

[ there's a lot of things derek could say here. some of them also disparaging scott, maybe a thing in defense of him if that tone weren't so hostile. but the fact that it is makes derek think side-stepping whatever he's missing about scott is the better option. ]

I want to know what actually happened.

[ since it clearly wasn't the jeep's hood falling. ]

[mensrea]

That makes one of you.

[ With a disdainful scoff, Stiles loses interest in the subject. He refuses to dwell on it on a night like this – his birthday, empowered by the full moon. If Derek wants details, he’ll need to ask another time. ]

Hey, wanna go into town? Most places are closed, but there’s gotta be a few businesses still open. Dude, think of how crazy good I’d be a bowling if Aefenglom had an alley. Maybe we could invest in one?

[ Please pause as he considers. ]

[scyldig]

I'm pretty sure using extra limbs is cheating.

[ but even if it wasn't, derek definitely does not want to go into town. especially with stiles like this. ]

How about you come inside and let me clean up your shoulder?

[mensrea]

Cheat? Moi?

[ It’s unfairly difficult to affect an innocent look when you have fangs and eight limbs that won’t sit still. Stiles gives up the effort with a laugh. ]

Nah, it’s pointless. It’ll keep bleeding. [ Which is true; every twitch of the topmost right limb pulls at the sensitive, cracked skin of the scar, causing it to bleed anew. ] Don’t worry about it. I can barely feel it anymore.

[ Stretching, and utterly unashamed of the way his jeans ride low on his hips as he does so (another indication that this is not Stiles in his right mind, honestly), he shoots Derek a questioning look. ]

Staying or coming? [ he asks, already itching to keep moving. ]

[scyldig]

[ well. derek feels a little dirty watching that stretch and then very quickly looking away. oh look a tree. stars up above. how pretty. ]

I-- [ he feels like he should go with stiles. try and keep him out of trouble and maybe herd him somewhere safe. but derek's headache throbs behind his eyes in time with his heartbeat and he's pretty sure that means he shouldn't. ]

Staying. [ nrgh. ] Be careful.

[mensrea]

[ Stiles pauses, giving Derek double finger guns of confirmation – which are quickly reinforced by eight more finger guns (or an awkward approximation of finger guns) – before he’s bounding off for the street once more. As he goes, he begins singing a certain song. Goodnight, Derek. Sleep tight. ]