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

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(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! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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.]

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.

[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)

[ 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.

[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.]

God, you’re such a pill.

[ With an overdramatized sigh, Stiles begins the process of further binding Itachi – this time securing his legs to keep the Witch from hurting either one of them. Unfortunately for the other man, his eight Arachne limbs are more than enough to keep them both stable. Sorry, Itachi. No death for you today. Unless that death is from mortification, because… ]

Uh, what the hell is Sasuke doing here?

[ The moment that Itachi turns his head or even glances in the direction where Stiles points, a spider tarsus quickly snaps a picture with the comm watch. Cackling, the Arachne accepts the device back and takes a moment to appraise the image. Then he helpfully shows it to his captive. In it, Itachi looks as ridiculous as he must feel – wrapped up in silk like the most unflattering bodysuit, posed in Stiles’ arms as the damsel in distress he certainly isn’t. Behind Stiles, the free spider paws are all giving the camera peace signs. ]

Nice! Hey, don’t worry. I’ll send a copy to you so you can remember tonight too. I can tell that being powerless is a novelty for you, after all. [ He levels an unpleasant smirk down at Itachi. ] If you were an actually well-adjusted person, maybe you could internalize this as a life lesson! Oh well. Baby steps, right? Right.

[ And so Stiles takes a baby step forward, off the roof – chuckling all the while. ]

[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.]

[ With Itachi hellbent on being a wet blanket, Stiles takes it upon himself to provide them with the quality entertainment they clearly deserve as he Tokyo drifts down the side of the building. ]

Go girl! [ he sings, jostling his captive to the imagined beat of a drum. ] It’s your birthday! Open wide, I know you thirsty. Say aah – aah, aah, aah, aah. Say aah – aah, aah, aah, aah.

[ Instead of continuing downward all the way onto the street, he leaps from their current building without warning. Powerful Arachne limbs propel them through the air and easily across the cobblestoned road below. His landing on the opposite building could use some polish; both Itachi and Stiles smack into a window more forcefully than intended. ]

Whoops, sorry about that. Still learning. So, where’s your place?

[ While he waits for directions, Stiles climbs horizontally to an adjacent side of the building, leading them down an alley. ]

[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.]

Weird! I haven’t heard of that street. Is that in English or Spanish?

[ Having already anticipated this – Itachi knocked him unconscious and stuffed his comatose body in a fucking closet to avoid having his privacy breached, after all – Stiles continues on his current course for Sasuke’s building. He’d briefly entertained bringing Itachi back to the cottage for the night, only to dismiss the thought; this isn’t someone he trusts and the idea of allowing Itachi into his home near his Witch sets his teeth on edge. No, Itachi will not be returning with him to the cottage. ]

So, am I going to sing the whole trip, or you going to offer anything more than monosyllabic responses to the conversation? Your choice.

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.]

If a guy like you chooses to forget this happened, it’s only because your pride demands it.

[ Another jump from one building to the next, this time with a better landing. ]

I’ll let you in on a well-kept Earthling secret, [ he continues conspiratorially, shifting Itachi higher in his arms before making the downward climb to the street. ] The word for “no” is the same in English and Spanish. It was a joke.

[ If Itachi is familiar with Sasuke’s neighborhood, he’ll recognize where they’re headed now. Stiles casually waltzes down the street on his human legs, luxuriating in the strength of his body. A tarsus claw carefully selects some of the tighter strands of silken webbing from around Itachi to cut – not freeing the man, but loosening the most restrictive bindings. ]

[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.

[ Itachi wouldn’t have appreciated humor even in a world where his parents had both actually loved him. ]

If you won’t tell me where you live, what else am I supposed to do? Relax. His roommate won’t even be around – he works a shift at this hour.

[ Which begs the question of how Stiles knows that, considering the fact that Sasuke has never provided any detail to him about Jack. Shinobi aren’t the only ones who can thoroughly scout. Approaching the house, he considers the front door before bypassing it entirely – instead choosing to scale the wall toward Sasuke’s bedroom window. ]

Huh. Guess Sasuke's not here. [ An Arachne limb pushes open the window, miraculously unlocked. ] Lucky you.

[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.]

[ They only loved you for your eyes, Itachi. Face the facts, man! ]

Say please, [ comes the airy suggestion as Stiles begins the tedious process of sliding Itachi through the open window without dropping the Witch unceremoniously, ] and I’ll actually consider it.

[ Once the limbs holding Itachi have been safely maneuvered into the bedroom, Stiles climbs inside himself – not unlike an octopus forcing its many tentacles through a too small space, really. Not an attractive sight. Fortunately, he succeeds without any injury to Itachi. Congratulations! ]

Of course he makes his bed, [ he mutters affectionately, dumping the Witch onto the bedding. ] Comfy?

[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.]

[ The sheer amount of pride that Itachi continues to nurture is almost mind-boggling. Stiles is surprised to find himself disappointed by it – not because he’s thwarted from a smug sense of victory, but because he actually thought Itachi was better than this. Rolling his eyes, he slips a human hand past the squirming fingers to slide inside the pouch. One of the kunai is pulled out and pushed into Itachi’s grasp. ]

I better not find you in the city again tonight, [ he warns lowly, the underlying threat in those words deadly serious compared to his earlier carefree demeanor. ] Sasuke cares about you. Don’t take that so lightly.

[ Footsteps fade from the bed as he leaves, exiting through the window and shutting it behind him. Time to go find Jonas. ]

[ Sasuke does care about Itachi, very much.

Enough that he might check on him following the full moon if he were in any condition to do so or harboring any suspicion that maybe it was particularly warranted, but as it is he's journeying dazedly back to his home just before dawn without a clear thought in his mind. He's sated. Stiles is safe. Jonas is safe. He can rest before the sun rears its ugly head.

Or so he assumes until he enters his bedroom, shirt flecked with dried blood that's equally smeared over his chin. His brother... is tied up in his bed. Sure, he seems to be nearing freedom, but Sasuke knows a little too well now just how strong arachne silk is and it's no small feat to hack through it at an advantageous angle, let alone the one Itachi is working with. ]

... do you need help?

[ what the fuck does he say ]

[If this is how he thought the end of the night would find him, he would never have gone outside.

The approaching noise of footsteps and creak of the door causes Itachi to go utterly still, eyes fixed on the wall. He doesn't need to look up to know its owner. His awareness of Sasuke is almost preternatural even without the aid of sharingan or chakra. The kunai he's wedged up beneath the knot of silk is rigid in his fingers, and his wrists and forearms are sore with a strain he knows he'll feel well into tomorrow. He's managed to cut halfway up his own back, but it's tedious and laborious work, and it's only gotten harder as he's inched higher.

Black eyes finally do skim over to his younger brother, although it's hard to see through the messy curtain of hair he keeps having to shake out of his face. Determined sweat sticks the strands to his brow.]

... Sasuke. [Why hadn't he stayed dead, things were much simpler then.] It wasn't my choice to come here, I... [Apologizing or explaining just seems pointless.] Yes.

[Better.]

[ He looks again at his brother. Looks again at the ties that bind him.

Really looks. And thinks back on what Stiles had told him, identifying himself as the only arachne in the city. Is there a chance of this day becoming any longer? Will he have to deal with this later? The answer, to both questions, is always a "yes". Sasuke raises his chin and adjusts his trudge into a more respectable stride forward, fingers plucking the kunai from his brother's hand. ]

I can guess what happened; you don't need to explain. [ For once.

It's far easier for him to start cutting at that webbing, patiently working bit by bit with an unfocused gaze. What the hell has this night become. ] Are you hurt?

[As humiliating as this is, at least it'll be over soon. Itachi relinquishes the kunai to his brother's hand and allows his arms to relax out of that awkward, angle, eyes focused on the wall for lack of anywhere else to look in the wait.

He'll only need to endure this a short while longer.]

No. Nothing noteworthy. [Soreness or aching limbs aside, he's unscathed. Stiles saw to that... annoyingly.] When you finish with my arms, I can do the rest.

[His legs, also bound, will be easier once he has his hands back. Let him preserve some dignity.]

Are you...? [Trailing off, he tries again:] Were you affected tonight as well?

[ "Nothing noteworthy" tells him little; knowing his brother as he does that could mean minor bruising or a stab wound that missed vital organs. No blood soaks his bed, however, well-aware he'd be able to smell it at a distance, so he doesn't press the issue. Instead he slices upward through the final strands, freeing his brother's no-doubt stiff arms at long last before a wave of dizziness finally catches up to him.

He turns to sit heavily on that same bed at his side, taking a moment to exhale when his vision blurs. Why...? ]

I was earlier, somewhat. I'm– [ Any reassurance that he's fine now is incredibly short-lived as he abruptly vanishes from sight, clothing dropping flat onto the mattress as if his very body had suddenly been spirited away altogether. The only sign that this hasn't happened is a quiet squeak and a rustle of movement, the collar of that cloak bunching upward as a tiny, one-winged bat slowly drags itself free of its folds with an awkward digging of claws.

Help. ]

[Momentarily distracted by having freedom granted back to his arms, Itachi peels himself out of layers of spider-silk, half-lying in it with his legs still bound. At once, earlier's deep-seated anxiety dims out of his mind. With his hands free, he's no longer at the mercy of his environment, a new and ugly sensation he doesn't wish to relive any time soon. He'll have to begin training more devotedly tomorrow. Every day he's weakened is another day at risk.

Itachi sits up and begins rubbing circulation back into thin fingers and wrists when Sasuke's voice cuts off mid-sentence. Alarmed, he turns, finding his brother gone.]

Sasuke!

[... then he glances down to find the small, fragile animal crawling over the sheets, in the exact spot his brother was just sitting a moment ago.]

What happened to you?

[Unaware the bat can't answer him, Itachi plants one of his hands on the bed and leans over it, hair sliding off his shoulder.]

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

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i can't believe i got to use the icon already

i'm so blessed

help them

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