mensrea: (pic#13835413)
Mɪᴇᴄᴢʏsᴌᴀᴡ "Sᴛɪʟᴇs" Sᴛɪʟɪɴsᴋɪ ([personal profile] mensrea) wrote in [community profile] middaeg2020-04-07 07:11 pm

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

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! )
anbu: (now i'm stealing her body)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-12 01:23 am (UTC)(link)
[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.]
Edited 2020-04-12 01:24 (UTC)
anbu: (i won't come back)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-12 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
[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?
anbu: (they pulled till you swore)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-15 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
[... 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?
anbu: (now i'm stealing her body)

infomods you

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-18 05:00 am (UTC)(link)
[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.
anbu: (they pulled till you swore)

i'm ooc in this tag

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-20 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[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.]
anbu: (i see the darkness)

:repress:

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-21 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
... 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.]
anbu: ANBU (i know it's hopeless)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-22 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[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.]
anbu: (witnessed a sight mine eyes had seen)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-25 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
[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.]
Edited (it is not my day today) 2020-04-25 05:12 (UTC)
anbu: (starting with nothing and building)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-25 08:54 pm (UTC)(link)
[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.]
anbu: (in heaven is where the devil hides)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-04-30 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
[He shouldn't have brought attention to his legs. He should have waited for an opportunity to use that meager freedom to his advantage when Stiles was distracted — it doesn't matter now, but it's impossible to keep his mind from criticizing the mistake. Fully bound in webbing, Itachi can do nothing but suffer the punishment of being hefted into that surer hold. All he shows for the click of the picture—after a quick glance—is a brief flicker of eyelids. A non-response.

It isn't because it doesn't bother him (like a thorn might irritate the skin it sits beneath), but the current predicament of complete immobility is far worse.

A novelty. That may be so. Never has this happened to him, not in the sense of losing autonomy of his physical body, not when he had chakra and ability. Never has he been rendered this powerless. As Stiles takes a step forward and off the roof, gut swooping at the sudden move, Itachi is forced to slam down tightly on the screaming corner of his mind. He has no choice but to ignore this reaction at the risk of losing composure, something he won't allow.

Even that takes an extreme amount of willpower to carry his mind over his body's instinct. Successful out of sheer experience with discomfort, Itachi glares ahead, unspeaking, mouth a flat and unhappy line. The suffocation of panic will pass, eventually, so he'll bear it. Until then Stiles gets to deal with the most boring dead weight in the world.]
anbu: (whether the taste of grace)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-05-02 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
[Grit his teeth and bear it.

That's the current reality as Stiles careens down the building and sings his bizarre, inharmonic song, lyrics so far outside anything he knows to the point of being basically meaningless—and then they're jarred by that bad landing.

Itachi makes a small noise, flinching at the crash, hating how out of control it makes him feel. His whole body is a fire of frayed nerves and numbness beneath the webbing. He was practicing evocation spells, if only he could...]


No.

[He's not that dumb, just dump him somewhere, let him be free.]
anbu: (starting with nothing and building)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-05-04 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
Everything I say is automatically translated.

[Congratulations, the irritation is raw in his voice, a similar level of emotion Stiles ignited in him back during the public harassment of the library trip. Itachi is beginning to associate these exchanges to unpleasantness. He'll have to be careful to avoid them at any cost in the future.]

The sooner you end this and release me, the more willing I will be to forget this happened.

[If not... the future looks bleak.]

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