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)

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.]
anbu: (whether the taste of grace)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-05-07 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
[Does he look like he's in the mood for your Earthling jokes, Stiles? DOES HE?]

... [This is all that returns the explanation, a dead and stone-faced silence as realization dawns. The surroundings are familiar. He's traveled this neighborhood once in person with Sasuke, the night of his arrival, but he knows it well even beyond that, having scouted it on his own time. Bad habit is that persistent need to be aware of his younger brother's location and (if possible) condition. It was easier when Sasuke was stationary back in Konoha during those early years, harder after he had left — easier again, here and now.

That doesn't mean he's happy to realize the destination. As soon as those binds slacken even slightly, even just where they held tightest around his torso, Itachi begins to struggle again.]


Stiles, stop. Leave Sasuke out of this.
anbu: (a lot of lily art in here) (that secret's sold)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-05-07 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[His parents loved him, it was just a fucked up kind of love, okay.

Itachi says nothing in response to that poor reassurance. Assuming he'll be left here in the hold of spider-silk, it's a vulnerable position; fortunate that he trusts his brother to have chosen a location safe and well-protected from potential dangers. Still, it's difficult to shake his own paranoia (or else he would not even be considering 'potential dangers' in a place where he's unlikely to encounter anyone who desires to kill him outright). Remaining here until he's found, probably by Sasuke, is a fate he needs to avoid at all costs.

Uchiha pride, etc...]


Undo these binds.

[It's 100% a steely command, he's not begging at all.]
anbu: (comes the loss of wonder)

[personal profile] anbu 2020-05-09 02:23 am (UTC)(link)
[This nightmare continues to escalate.

There's little else he can do but accept the situation and work toward the most bearable solution. In this case, he has two options: wait for Sasuke to return and cut him out of the web, or cut himself out (the 'please' is not even entertained). Naturally his preference leans in the direction of the more difficult choice. Already Itachi's hands twist where they're pinned by binds, wrists testing its durability—seeking enough room to work fingertips into the pouch at his belt that holds the weapons around his waist.

It's slow, difficult progress, and his forearms ache from the strain.

Rather than answer the question, Itachi rolls on the mattress to stare at the opposite wall. He may as well have written off Stiles' presence entirely at this point. Begone.]

i'm so blessed

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