(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

[anbu]

[The limbs are expressive, as much a danger as a tell. Itachi's eyes follow them exclusively. Their reach will make the difference, if it comes to it, and he understands the great necessity of minimizing their ability to get to him.

As a result, he's prepared for that sudden lurch forward. He doesn't flinch. But his own hand flashes to the pouch at his waist and withdraws a kunai, learned and automatic precision, and he has it raised to one of Stiles' spider-legs. The silver-edged blade doesn't make contact—it's still a near thing. Don't come any closer.]

Then with that negligence you've put yourself and others at risk.

[Stiles hadn't seemed like a fighter to him, had never radiated bloodlust... did that change with the turn of the moon?]

Your opinion of me is inconsequential. Control your own mind first.

[mensrea]

[ The kunai elicits no outward shift in expression from Stiles. Empowered by the looming full moon, in a near complete transformed state, he feels confident enough to disregard the warning. This won’t end the way things did for him in the ruins during the expedition; he’s no longer powerless. ]

God are you boring.

[ Sliding around Itachi in feigned, polite observance of the kunai, he steps onto the roof properly with bare feet – leaving the eight limbs free to react, should it be required. ]

Anyway, control is overrated. The more a Monster tries to restrain themselves, the faster the transformation is. Or did Sasuke forget to tell you that too? [ A beat, his gaze growing distant as he stares off into the city. ] …I wonder how he’s doing tonight. Maybe I should visit.

[anbu]

[It's fair to see reasoning won't work. That aside, neither will physical force. Itachi can't recall the last time he felt truly outmatched, knowing that even if he was able to fend off all eight of those lethal limbs, there is an entire body attached, one with hands and sharp-pointed fangs, one with feet and legs to kick. Perhaps Stiles isn't especially skilled; he wouldn't need to be in this body, with its new animalistic instinct.

Stripped of chakra and only the barest threads of new magic, the wisest option is to retreat.]

What is your relationship with my brother? [The kunai doesn't lower, but he does turn with Stiles' movement, so they always remain facing each other.] You and that boy Jonas.

starts a tally called "julia edits"

[mensrea]

“That boy,” [ echoes Stiles dubiously. Though amusement splits his face in a wide grin, his eyes are not unlike chips of ice, cold and hostile. ] Careful how you talk to me about Jonas, little Witch.

[ If it hadn’t been present before, lurking ominously beneath the surface, it certainly is now: bloodlust. Monster and human grapple for control as Stiles stares unblinking at Itachi in calculating deliberation. Then the frozen moment of tension snaps; with a gusty sigh as if utterly spent, Stiles sits back – the spider limbs obediently lifting him into the air once again, one curling beneath him ostensibly for Stiles to sit on. ]

Jeez, that got a little intense, huh? Tuckered me out. [ Belying that claim, his human legs begin to swing back and forth under the limb he’s seated on, like an energetic child at the dinner table. ] Anyway, I can’t speak for them. You’ll have to ask the newlywed Bondmates for yourself.

[ An oddly fragile emotion passes over his expression. It isn’t bitterness. If anything, it reads more like yearning. ]

As for little old me… [ He pauses dramatically, only to wink. ] None of your business!

have mercy 😩

[anbu]

[Little witch. Words meant to coax a reaction, to goad or belittle in some way, though they pass over Itachi like cool water on stone. Many hadn't taken him seriously as a shinobi for his age, but the condescension never mattered. He had learned to prove himself through his skill alone, and they had noticed.

This isn't the Stiles who had followed him through Aefenglom after earnestly demanding time to perfect his and Sasuke's names. This is a wild animal, and should be treated as such.]

You care for them. That's clear to see.

[Or, to him it is. Itachi takes another step backward, maintaining distance when it appears the Arachne has decided to sit, even possessed of that constant energy.]

Why have you not Bonded with Jonas as well? He is a witch.

[mensrea]

[ The observation goes uncontested. Itachi isn’t wrong, after all. Ultimately, Stiles only has two levels of depth with which he cares for others. The first is a general level of concern – a byproduct of having been born the son of a cop – where innocents and even casual friends like Liam are grouped. Those are the people he’ll strive to do right by, to protect and help as he can. The second is a much smaller, more intimate inner circle, comprised only of his father, Scott, Lydia, and Malia. These are the loved ones he’ll get his hands bloody for without hesitation, whether or not they approve.

Jonas and Sasuke are not in the first level. ]

Well, if that’s all that’s required… [ Spider limbs pace forward to eat up that step of distance Itachi instated between them. ] …why don’t you and I Bond? I’m a Monster. You’re a Witch. Obviously, a match made in heaven.

[ Smirking, he has the extra appendages lower him to the ground, where Stiles then sinks down to one knee before Itachi. While it’s undoubtedly a vulnerable position, the spindly spider legs fan out from behind him like deadly plumage of a particularly fucked-up peacock. ]

So, what do you say, Uchiha Itachi? Be my Bondmate?

[anbu]

[It does surprise him, but not enough to crack through the icy regard of his composure. All that shows is the crease of a dark brow as Itachi takes in this proposal remotely, untouched by it. Whether it's meant as a distraction from the subject, or a blind-side swing caused by the full moon's mania... whatever the reason, Itachi doesn't allow it to turn his mind off its focus.

That is: the approach of spindly appendages, each one a red flag of threat, spread in that beastly display.]

No. [He lowers the arm holding the kunai.] Though you knew that answer.

[Stiles is the first to officially propose this to him, but his opinion is unchanged. He has no intention of bonding for so long as a lack of bond can be managed. He will make use of every medium to facilitate buying time. What would happen after that remains to be seen, but Itachi's plan would last at least two months. Like a clock counting down in his mind.]

Get up. Your lack of action thus far suggests you have no intention of attacking me, or perhaps anyone tonight. Is that true? Are you capable of violence, Stiles?

[mensrea]

[ Groaning with the histrionics of a child being told to get ready for school, Stiles stands on human legs. A brisk wind rolls through the city skyline, momentarily drawing his attention to the cooling streak of dried blood on his back. While chilly temperatures may not affect spiders, this transformation hasn’t actually made him cold-blooded; shivering, Stiles tries to fold the limbs in around his body for warmth. ]

Anyone’s capable of anything. Me, you, Sasuke – even Jonas. That’s reality. Maybe instead you should ask, do I have a history of violence?

[ Feet patter softly across the roof as he steps up to the edge, peering down at the street below. ]

Hey, do you like riddles?

[anbu]

[Where's Jonas when you need a healer, and Sasuke when you need a cool-looking cloak. Alas, Stiles is trapped in this conversation with Itachi, who continues to gaze on unfazed. He notes the body language and questions whether this should be continued. If there's a way to disengage, should he try it? Where will Stiles go? Is there concern to be held if Stiles goes to Sasuke?

Perhaps that's what he's been trying to determine this whole time. Whether or not Stiles is a threat to Sasuke, and if he is, what can Itachi do about that?]

I don't have an opinion on them. Are you going to share one with me?

[He remains where he is, still and immovable, closer to the center of the roof. An oppressive gaze never leave Stiles.]

[mensrea]

It feels tonally appropriate, [ he remarks airily. ] I’d offer them in Japanese, but my memory isn’t that great.

[ Stiles doesn’t deign to explain what he means by that. Instead, as he begins to walk the edge of the roof as if it were a tightrope, he calls out his first riddle to Itachi. ]

“When you say my name, I disappear. What am I?”

[anbu]

[Okay... then...]

Silence.

[It's said after a moment of genuine thought. He'd puzzled it out by focusing on the act of speech, the effect of what it caused.]

Have you taken an interest in Japanese?

[mensrea]

[ A poor attempt at a handstand is made. Is it cheating when four auxiliary limbs steady you before you teeter off the side of a building? ]

No, [ he scoffs, sounding almost insulted by the mere suggestion. ] Well… I guess that’s not totally true anymore. Before? Only to translate lines in the bestiary. Now? Maybe.

[ Once again, Stiles fails to explain – neither what he means by the bestiary, which he’s only described to Sasuke, nor what’s changed since.

The latter, at least, is probably within Itachi’s ability to deduce. ]

“If I give you one, you’ll have either two or none. What is it?”

[anbu]

[... Definitely cheating. Itachi looks on, not for the first time devoting effort in the study of another monster, struck at once by their strangeness and the ease at which Stiles moves, using all limbs in unconscious motor control. So different from those he'd met in the dream, awkward and uncertain in new skin and feathers and scales. The power of the full moon.]

How long are you intending to play this game?

[This riddle takes longer thought. His mind goes through options, first considering literal objects before he turns to concepts and abstract ideas.]

'Choice'. Is that your answer?

[mensrea]

Until you lose.

[ The wording is deliberate; this exercise has less to do with Stiles feeling like he’s won so much as ensuring Itachi doesn’t. He’s always possessed a vicious streak, as Jonas recently discovered. But his relative cruelty tonight has no purpose here other than to bring someone he finds difficult to interact with down low. Well, as low as an unsolved riddle can bring anyone, at least.

His next question is asked in a darker tone, Stiles pausing in his gymnastic antics to stare Itachi down. ]

“When is a door not a door?”

infomods you

[anbu]

[While this Stiles is different from the one who tailed and harassed him days ago, there are some similar threads he's beginning to see as this conversation wears on. What he perceived first as a physical threat is still there, but not the blind, blunt frenzy of a wild animal on the loose, and instead something more playful, more calculative.

These riddles will keep coming until one of them surrenders. Stiles' previous stubbornness tells him that he'll be outlasted. And that, if he cuts this thread now, Stiles will see it as a victory against him. What is the motivation? A battle of will and ego, driven simply by his relationship to Sasuke?

It reminds him of someone else.

After a length of silence, Itachi crosses the roof to approach the edge where the Arachne is balanced on limber spider-legs.]

You want me to lose for your own satisfaction. What do you believe that's going to accomplish? If I say I don't have the answer, that is not a poor reflection upon myself. I should be willing to admit my own ignorance.

permitted

[mensrea]

[ Despite the casual air with which Stiles watches Itachi’s approach, a single spider limb takes a moment to attach a connected thread of silk to the roof – ensuring he won’t fall to his death should the man push him. It’s the first time tonight that he’s acknowledged his own mortality; even when high off the full moon’s power, Stiles demonstrates signs of paranoia. ]

Then admit it, [ he suggests sweetly, batting eyelashes up at Itachi from his awkward position upside down. ] If it’s not an issue for you, go ahead. Don’t worry. I won’t judge you. No one’s perfect.

[ In a smooth movement, he leverages himself back upright, face flushed from all the blood rushing to his head. ]

Well? Let’s hear it.

i'm ooc in this tag

[anbu]

[He has no desire to push Stiles from the rooftop no matter how annoying these riddles are becoming, although that intention is obfuscated behind the total lack of expression on his face. Itachi simply stands there and looks on. That thread of silk catches the moonlight, belayed to the edge, a shimmering silver lifeline.]

I don't know.

[See, that wasn't so hard.]

im already in ur hmd flaming u

[mensrea]

See, when I admitted that about another riddle, I got yelled at.

[ An extremely watered down version of events from his hallucination at the hands of the Nogitsune, but not necessarily untrue. Stiles continues his pattern of Not Explaining What the Fuck He’s Talking About and barrels along carelessly. ]

The answer is, “When it’s ajar.” Cute, right?

[ Stiles straightens, peering at Itachi speculatively. ]

Anyway, you lost. Time to go home, buddy. You shouldn’t be out tonight. C’mon.

[ And he offers a hand for Itachi to take. While still standing at the edge of the roof. ]

:repress:

[anbu]

... I don't understand. It is not a door when open?

[The 'cute' play on words is unfortunately lost in imperfect translation, Itachi's brow furrowing. He points a perplexed look at the extended hand and makes no move to accept it. Why would he?]

I am capable of protecting myself even in these conditions, so that's unnecessary.

[But it seems to him that, regardless, this interaction is coming to a natural end. Itachi looks out over the city, then down to determine the most efficient route to the street given that a single leap is no longer possible for him.]

[mensrea]

[ While the Witch considers an escape route, Stiles stares at him in blank miscomprehension until it finally clicks why Itachi fails to understand the riddle. Oh my god, he hates this world. It’s the worst. The fucking worst. This is such a great riddle and Itachi can’t get it because of magic translation bullshit. Unforgivable. Aefenglom must pay. The Coven will rue the day that Stiles couldn’t lord his victory over Sasuke’s older brother. Rue it.

Okay, he’s over it. Moving on. ]

Yeah, no. [ The fingers of the proffered hand curl inward invitingly before opening again. ] You really, really can’t. So, how about you shelf the unnecessary pride and let me designated driver your nonexistent, flat ass back home?

[anbu]

[Unnecessary pride is how Stiles puts it, when from his own perspective, he sees a different reality: he's capable of getting down on his own and has no need of the aid. It may take longer without chakra and a direct route, but as he's found a way up, so too can he descend to the street. If nothing else it serves to keep him physically in shape, especially after the setback of injuries upon arrival. His body responds worse to idleness.

So Itachi eyes the hand, frowning. And ignoring the blithe insult...]

I'm fine. I don't require your assistance.

[Let him break his newly healed leg on his own, this is his cross to bear.]

[mensrea]

Oooh, wrong again.

[ Patience thoroughly taxed, Stiles prepares to take matters into his own hands – though, admittedly, he’d been hoping for this exact outcome; there’s nothing better to him right now than exerting his will over someone else’s. And so, retracting that hand with a shrug, Stiles strikes. Six Arachne limbs tear through the air to seize Itachi’s arms, clamping them to the man’s sides before he has an opportunity to inflict damage on Stiles. The remaining two limbs prepare freshly spun silk, looping it around the shinobi’s torso to bind him. ]

This itsy-bitsy spider, [ he begins in a gleeful croon, winking at Itachi should he catch the man’s eye, ] isn’t currently taking no for an answer. Don’t struggle, little Witch – you’re just going to make it tighter.

[anbu]

[Even as refined reflexes sense the coming danger, there's little he can do about it, no chakra or magical spell available to rescue him from the strike of those dangerous limbs. He should have kept his guard up, should not have approached—distance was everything when confronted with an enemy that could not be beaten through physical strength alone. Distance afforded reaction time, and with that time, speed might make the difference.

It doesn't matter now; scolding himself for the mistake is useless. Tight, silvery string is spun around his body with the efficiency of animal nature, Stiles working fast and well-practiced, each loop gluing arms down at his sides as a steel bar might feel melted into place. Itachi's expression crumbles into a genuine look of frustration. Brows furrowed, mouth twisted, hands in fists even as he doesn't fight what is an inevitable loss.]

What, [this gritted almost into a growl except for how punctuated each word is,] are you doing?

[This is the second time Stiles has backed him into a corner. Desperation rises with adrenaline in his throat, and he rolls his shoulders, flexing the muscles down his arms as if to test the strength of the webbed silk. Ignoring that wink even as he glares blackly at the monster.]

[mensrea]

[ My, my, my…doesn’t Itachi look delicious trussed up and pissed off like this? Stiles takes a brief moment to appreciate the view before brown eyes glaze over with animalistic hunger. Instinct urges him to sample the Witch’s magic for himself. Just a taste. Nothing Itachi can’t handle. And after the man’s stunt at the library, hasn’t he earned it? But instead of acting on these desires – or trying to suppress them altogether, because control is overrated – Stiles reminds himself why it’s so important for Itachi to be inside on a night like this. He’s Sasuke’s brother. ]

Is this the part where I’m meant to menacingly whisper in your ear, “Payback’s a bitch,” and then toss you off the roof? [ Amused, he tugs sharply on a lock of dark hair, as if chastising Itachi. ] Dude, I already told you what I’m doing. You’re getting an express ride back home, free of charge.

[ Though they’re the same height, Stiles wonders what the weight difference between them is. He moves away from the edge before attempting to lift the other man, in the off chance that he loses balance. The precautionary measure proves to be unnecessary; with a strength he doesn’t normally possess, Stiles sweeps Itachi up into a bridal carry, utilizing one Arachne limb to help him with the weight. ]

I gave you a chance to accept my help on your own terms, [ he continues, mockingly throwing Itachi’s words back in the Witch’s face. ] You should have listened.

[anbu]

[The flat, contemptuous expression doesn't fall away at those taunting words, instead solidifying into one of great and lasting disdain. He jerks his head as soon as that strand of loose hair is pulled, cheek turned stubbornly away, out of reach.]

Stop—

[A hiss of protest comes with the sudden movement. When he's lifted into that hold, his legs automatically swing out, at once trying to drop his weight and unbalance them — at the cost of a downward plunge to the street, yes, he's that prideful — and at once to get those hands off of him. The physical contact crawls over his skin.

For a man who values control over his life, a man who has so rarely been hunted to a point of powerlessness... Itachi is not taking this well. The black look in his eyes won't soon fade. Just let him crack his skull open; it's his choice.]