middaeg | this is the life you see

[ The glass is empty when he sets it back down on the countertop a little too hard, willing Jonas to hurry if only in the now shrinkingly vain hope that some other food item might succeed where all the last ones had failed. How many monsters are there? He goes through each species in his mind, well aware that many have dietary preferences... but that's just it. Almost all of them are preferences, aren't they? Why would so many other normal foods fail to offer him any relief at all?

Then it clicks.

And not a second later, Jonas is bleeding.

The sheer smell of it has his mouth watering in an instant, copper standing out so distinctly from vinegar, and he realizes that none of his other senses have been so sharp in reaction to anything in weeks. His knees lock as his eyes focus in on a rivulet of red, almost daring not to breathe in again as he tries to force himself to take a step back. ]

No... Forget that, I have to get out of here... Move, Jonas, now. Get away from me! [ The shout seems to snap him out of his own stupor, finally stumbling back a step or two as he snaps his gaze towards the door. ]

[ After an exhausting day spent resisting the siren call of sleep, Stiles finally submitted at some point in the early afternoon. He stirs now, aware vaguely of muted voices at the periphery of his consciousness. When the jar shatters downstairs, his eyes snap open as a rush of adrenaline floods his system. What the hell was that? Fear clears any lingering cobwebs of sleep. Vaulting out of bed, Stiles pauses only to snatch up the fireplace poker he’d stolen from an abandoned house nearby. Then, clad in a pair of loose sleeping pants and t-shirt, he descends to the first floor warily. The potential break-in that he’d envisioned is no where to be found. Instead, he sees the back of Sasuke’s head – why is he here, why did Jonas give him an invitation – and then, almost garishly bright against the kitchen tiling, Jonas’ blood.

He puts the pieces together quickly. ]

Calm down! [ he snaps, circling cautiously around Sasuke to stand between the two. ] Now, I’m gonna assume you didn’t hurt him.

[ Stiles can’t see the jar, but he definitely heard glass breaking; it seems unlikely Jonas was attacked. Regardless, there’s a hard, steely glint to his eyes as he stares down Sasuke, fire poker at the ready. ]

But I’m going to put a hole in you where the sun don’t shine if you try anything. [ Without taking his gaze off Sasuke, he throws over his shoulder, ] Jonas, use the back door and go outside. Take something to stop the bleeding. You can’t be in here right now.

Edited (not that kind of backdoor lmao) 2020-02-14 04:02 (UTC)

(it throbs, not hurting as badly as it looks like it might. his biggest concern is pulling crushed glass from it, but jonas' attention leaves the dish towel he's wadded in a damn hurry. sasuke's shout startles him immediately into a frightened nod, but the eyes... there's something in the eyes that lances paralyzing fear up his spine.

that's why it didn't occur to him, finding it beyond reasonable to suppose sasuke could be something when he might be the other. he blinded himself when he should've been studying, realizing that he slacked off again and this time at their detriment. he's about to find his sea-legs and run from his mistake—he's always been good at that, pacing himself until he has to sprint—when stiles joins them in the kitchen.)

Wait, no– (eyes fall to the fire poker, widening.) Stiles, what the hell is that? You're not going to hit him with that.

(could be misinterpreted as "you shouldn't hit him," or maybe even a "it's wrong to hit him." what jonas really means is that there's a reason the first thing sasuke gave him was a knife to defend himself with, a reason he carries a sword around, and a reason he only has one arm. all three are compelling him to go, not proud or desperate to stay, but he can't slip out and abandon stiles when they're both in danger.

taking a slow step back, wise not to step in the broken jar.)

It's alright, just back up and come with me. Okay?

Edited (i suck at writing 2k20) 2020-02-14 04:31 (UTC)

[ He feels like his insides are constricting. His guts are tying themselves in knots while his stomach clenches hard like a fist whose each and every knuckle is pushing up between his ribs, driving the breath from his lungs. A groan is forced out in spite of a tight diaphragm and it's one of sheer pain, every instinct he has telling him that that blood isn't a want or even a compulsion. It's a need, and without it his own body will desiccate and his veins will fill with tar. His hand lifts to his face, tightening over his mouth and nose as he tries to block out a temptation he's never felt before.

He has to get out. He has to get out and he knows that, even with the entrance of Stiles, even with the fire poker brandished in his direction and paired with an unavoidable threat, even with the blood splattered on the floor. And yet... a few words stick out to him and root him to the floor.

His eyes lift as his hand lowers, fingers lingering near his jaw as his gaze sets itself on Stiles. In any other circumstance they'd be red, a cold anger settled behind them. ]

... you already know. I didn't say a word and you just walked in but you know– you knew, from before. From that dream, and you didn't tell me?

You didn't fucking tell me? Why?

[ The protest falls on deaf ears; Stiles assumes that Jonas is objecting the possibility of violence, which – for all his flagging sense of humanity – Stiles is more than prepared to inflict. He has no qualms with the reasonable suggestion to follow suit, however. Bare feet sliding on the floor, he inches backwards in his housemate’s direction. The fire poker is ice cold in his hands, but slowly warming to his body temperature. He’s become so morbidly accustomed to this, this ugly struggle between life and death. Despite his terror, his breath is even. Despite his lack of experience, his hands hold the makeshift weapon steady. The threat wasn’t an idle one; Stiles knows, if forced to act, that he’s capable of hurting someone like Sasuke. He’s done it before.

Sasuke’s accusation pulls him up short, confusing in its non sequitur, though it’s apparent when Stiles makes the connection. ]

It isn’t like that. [ The defense sounds weak even to his own ears, but it’s the truth. ] I had no idea you didn’t know. I had my own reasons to avoid talking about the dream. It had nothing to do with you.

[ Isn’t that the crux of it, though? Stiles, so self-absorbed in his own troubles, remained totally ignorant to someone else’s plight – even when it was staring him right in the face. No matter their complicated relationship, no matter his irreverent disregard for Sasuke’s opinions, Stiles carries that guilt now. It eats away at his insides, bolstered by insecurity. This is his fault; he offers no more excuses. ]

(there's some conversation happening between them that jonas is lost to, searching blood and glass for an answer that makes sense. he met stiles in a similar way via bizarre circumstances he can't fully convince himself were dreamed and not real. it seems as though sasuke's missing his own version of events, ones he should vividly remember. where then, is the truth supposed to come from?

sucking in a sharp breath, jonas narrowly avoids raising his voice at the two.)

Hey, listen to me. (a hand is raised, the one not cradled against his waist, in the universal bid for peace.) What has or hasn't been said can be discussed later.

(this night has turned banana bread really fast. nona. his conversation with nona in the forest—when she was panicking and alex was no help, trying to talk her down from doing anything rash—makes him seal his teeth together and dredge up whatever confidence he salvaged from that godforsaken island. she wasn't about to lash out physically, but the bottom line is the same: some calm needs to be injected into this situation.)

Arguing with him right now, Stiles? Seriously? (jonas is upset, voice rougher when it lowers. the shake is perceptible, but just barely.) Sasuke, I'm sorry I couldn't do anything. I-I tried and we– you and I were making progress. We would've had this figured out... but now it's time to go. There's no reason why any of us should still be standing here.

We're going to move aside, back or out. Okay? Jesus... just– please, guys.

[ The huff of a laugh is sharp and harsh, an altogether ugly sound that's without mirth and is instead colored with a mix of anger and visible discomfort. It's strained, just like his voice and expression, with a line of tension prominent in a clenched jaw. How stupid... Not Stiles, not Jonas. Himself. He'd done the research and even when symptoms had started showing up he'd considered them mild and safe to ignore for now. He hadn't done what he now always does, which is to assume the worst and make the appropriate preparations.

Now he's little more than a danger to others, again. ]

"Quid pro quo", huh.

[ There's a quiet rage in the stare he fixes Stiles with, one that seems ready to fuel a lunge forward at any moment... until his brow furrows and his teeth grit, hand squeezing tight into a fist that drops to his side as he visibly struggles against that impulse. When he looks up again his eyes are glassy, forehead damp with sweat as he fights valiantly against a last glance at blood. ]

Don't, I'll go. I should leave... This– [ Eyes close for a second, hand finding purchase against the countertop before he's taking a sudden and decisive step towards the front door. ] This isn't what I want.

[ Which is all he says, all he trusts himself to say before he's moving, not even bothering to shut the door behind himself after he slams it open and disappears back out into the night. ]

[ Under the intensity of that enraged gaze, Stiles feels his own anger rear its head – sharpening into something hurt when Jonas attempts to mediate, only to then single out Stiles immediately after. The admonishment seems contradictory and hypocritical, picks at the frayed thread of doubt Stiles has about his single real friendship in this godforsaken city. A shot of resentment burns its way down his throat before Stiles is able to push aside the childish reaction. Not the time.

His words are thrown back in his face, but what really gets him is the look he’s given. The smell of blood, the anticipation of violence, the steely resolve hardening his heart – it’s like he’s back in the library with Donovan. “What were you thinking the moment you knew he was dead and there was no saving him?” asked Theo, who already knew the answer.

Sasuke departs in a rush. Breath escaping him in a noisy exhale of relief, Stiles skids across the room to lock the front door after the vampire. ]

Jesus Christ.

[ All things considered, that went better than most of the pack’s first shifts. Concern for Jonas’ injury prompts him to return to the kitchen, the sight of blood in the dark likening it to an almost black color. ]

How deep is it?

(rattled into shutting his eyes by the noise of their front door, he grabs for the edge of the counter.

sasuke came here seeking help, sick and exhausted, and now he's fled the sight of blood to wander through the night alone. cold, hungry, and lacking the wherewithal to resist temptation till morning, an entirely separate problem. this isn't what he wanted? of course it isn't; none of them signed up for this. he can't blame him for being stressed, for snapping, for beating a noisy retreat. who could?

jonas doesn't move, even when stiles addresses him.)

... what? (bit by bit he regains feeling, the first movement a shake in bloody fingers.) I'm– it's fine. Thank you...

(the second is a raise of his eyes, watching stiles lock the door and round on him; the third is a clench of his jaw, gritting the following words out to hide the way his voice wavers with uncertainty.) I should've told you he was coming over. I-I didn't know you were home– here. Jesus, did you have to stand in front of me like some kind of meat shield?

[ An unnatural calm settles over Stiles as he evaluates Jonas. There’s no room in his heart for darker, hotter emotions when someone he cares about is injured. The fire poker is set aside, forgotten. Guided by the familiarity of tending to others, he reaches out to gently but firmly take the wounded hand in his own. Stiles peels away the dish rag, making a mental note to himself that the gash may become infected because of the contaminated cloth, and examines the thumb under better lighting. ]

You’ve got glass in there, [ he says, subdued. ] We should get you to a clinic.

[ His housemate’s comments are heard, though not acknowledged. They aren’t important right now. And any honest response to the meat shield remark will undoubtedly upset Jonas. Unfortunately, there’s still another major issue to consider. ]

He’s dangerous to people. [ And himself, but that is (unkindly) not Stiles’ main concern. ] Can you message him? Let him know that feeding on an animal seemed to work in the dream.

(stiles takes his hand with no thought to the blood and vinegar, and it earns him a discomfited grunt.) God– wanna' warn a guy, Stiles? Forget about the cut. (he finally sounds appropriately frustrated, snatching his hand back.

his threshold is far higher than this, hand ignored, as it's the scrutiny that bothers him most. scared or injured, the last thing jonas wants to do is bring attention to himself. he doesn't even want to have this discussion right now, but there's still the matter of a fire poker going unaddressed and stiles avoiding answering his questions.)

Yeah, and? We're all dangerous to people, don't you get that? (despite how hostile those words sound together, his tone doesn't stray from firm patience.) Sasuke was trying to figure out what he was so he could avoid a situation like this... and you knew? Like, isn't that a little selfish, man?

And you're standing here retroactively telling me what to do when this conversation was owed to him a week and a half ago?

Edited (REDUNDANCY!!!!) 2020-02-14 17:38 (UTC)

[ Naïve, he thinks reproachfully – the first real uncharitable opinion he’s developed about Jonas – as the other teen tries to minimize the unparalleled threat Sasuke currently poses. It’s like insisting that in a room full of people equipped with guns everyone is equally dangerous when only one of those guns is actually loaded. With firsthand experience of just how unstable someone in Sasuke’s position is, Stiles opens his mouth to contest the point. But his housemate isn’t finished speaking.

Despite the clear weather outside, he can suddenly hear rain. The sound of the Animal Clinic door slamming shut with finality. The unhealthy clicks of his jeep’s failing engine. Enervated by the unfinished business he has in his home world, Stiles accepts Jonas’ criticism like a slap in the face. He’s so tired of having to defend himself, of no one listening, of no one having his back. ]

I already said I had no idea he didn’t know. [ He looks at Jonas and only sees Scott. ] You think I was holding out on him because of what, spite?

[ Stiles picks up the fire poker, half-expecting the same flinch from Jonas now that the wrench had inspired in Scott. ]

Believe me or don’t, [ he says, voice flat and cold. ] I’m going to grab my shoes.

[ And without waiting for a response, he heads back up the stairs to do just that. When he returns less than a minute later, he’s wearing shoes and a jacket – with his comm watch in hand, a text message already sent off. ]

Oh, you are not putting words in my mouth right now. When did I say that? (rearing up to his full height with a grimace at how terrible this conversation—if anyone could piece together enough to call it that—is going.) What's done's done and we gotta' deal with that, but how about trying on a little sympathy for someone in a lot of pain right now?

(flinch at the fire poker he does not, but his distaste for it is palpable when he turns away with a scoff to run water into his cut.

exeunt stiles, hearing him upstairs searching for the necessary gear. it gives him time to stare down at the abandoned sandwich in the sink, few bites taken, representing something he can't fully wrap his head around. if sasuke wanted to hurt them he would've, sure of that and his control; he helped him without asking anything in return, his first night and every day since. while it's not a good idea to track him down, the thought of stiles finding him is terrifying. both of them could get badly hurt—worse, considering the hungry look in his friend's eyes.

glass clinks into the sink. it's all jonas can do until he shows his hand to a professional tomorrow at the coven, sure it'll be healed in moments, tearing the thin rag with his teeth. stiles returns as he's wrapping it hastily around the wound.)

Stiles, wait. I'm coming with, so can you hold up a sec? (a hop to the kitchen archway and away from the scattered glass, abandoning his pickled socks by the door with a hurried tug at his sneakers. his jacket he grabs from he back of a musty armchair, determined to keep up.) Think there are any flashlights around here? Should've learned a mage light spell... whatever. You good?

[ Obligingly, Stiles pauses at the front door to wait. He remains undecided on whether or not it’s a good idea to allow Jonas to come along. The injury is still fresh and clearly not wrapped properly, given the limited supplies they own. Should they manage to find Sasuke, the smell might incite another rush of bloodlust in him. But if Stiles does find Sasuke – well, it’s obvious that he’s not Sasuke’s favorite person at the moment. Jonas may be able to talk the vampire down where Stiles can’t. Or maybe they’ll both be killed on the spot. ]

Jonas.

[ Putting aside the complicated, mass tangle of emotions he absolutely cannot handle, Stiles tries to make sure they’re on the same page. ]

I get that you like him. I’m not interested in…in hurting him, okay? But he’s not in control right now and he could definitely hurt us. I’ve seen it before, back home. If you come with me, you’re signing up for that.

[ Regardless, Stiles will go. This is his mistake and therefore his responsibility. And even if he were blameless? There’s a city of innocent people who might be attacked by a threat he’s aware of. Stiles can’t sit on his ass and do nothing. Best case scenario: They find Sasuke, make sure he feeds properly, escort him to wherever the hell he’s staying, and ascertain the danger has passed. Naturally, Stiles doesn’t expect any of that to actually happen. ]

("jonas."

lowers his head and heaves a sigh that sounds suspiciously amused; he's heard that tone of voice before. lo and behold, it precedes a warning. it's easy to be angry at stiles, but even easier to be thankful he even has a friend worried for his safety. having heard it time and time again from his parents, he thought it'd irritate him more than flatter him. that was wrong.)

I'm not worried about you hurting him, man. I don't think either of us could. (the sword sasuke drew to scope out the house they holed up in overnight tells him all he needs to know, as well as the decisiveness of his search. he's combat ready.) You guys are dealing with all this rough shit and I'm not going to let you go it alone. So... I know I'm not as smart as you guys, or maybe even as capable, but I know I can help out.

(tilts his head towards the path leading away from their cottage's front door, indicating the way they should go. past the gate, through the street, and into the night to face whatever consequences come of it. nothing, in all likelihood, but jonas is more worried about venturing too close to the cwyld zelda mentioned than any threat sasuke poses.)

C'mon, already. I make a good sidekick. I've had a lot of practice. (letting stiles hit the road first before following close behind, shutting the door behind them.)

[ Visibly balking, Stiles unlocks and opens the door for them as he tries to make sense of the strange, unprecedented role he’s being implicitly put in. “I know I’m not as smart as you guys, or maybe even as capable…” and “I make a good sidekick. I’ve had a lot of practice.” It’s like hearing a recording of himself from a year and a half ago. Never mind the frankly jaw-dropping epiphany of how far he’s personally come – he knows all too well what Jonas is feeling. And he can’t let that go uncontested. ]

You’re no sidekick, [ he starts, pulling out his personal cell phone, powering it, and turning on the flashlight app. The battery won’t last, but it’ll have to do for now. ] Trust me. I’ve seen sidekick-material before. You’re better quality stuff…even if you can’t do math to save your life.

[ Footprints marking a hurried, extended stride lead away from the cottage through the melting slush. Stiles shoots Jonas a meaningful glance and follows the trail warily. ]

(he still has questions and he still has doubts, but not about their relationship. just the choices each person makes when faced with something threatening, both sasuke's and stiles' reactions understandable to him. they'll need some time to sort this out, but that'll make for a firmer foundation—won't it?

shaking his head a bit, desperate for levity.) Aw, man... just when I started to really like the role. (what'd alex call them, partners or something?

it feels like it happened in a half-remembered dream. they're here now without her and his sides felt empty until occupied by the two he's following into a wintry night, breath steady even as he keeps his pace at a steady jog.)

While I don't know where to start, I know where we shouldn't. Let's avoid getting too close to the Bright Wall, okay? A friend got attacked by the Cwyld on the outskirts earlier. She's alright, so it's no problem now, but she said it looked like a mutant bear.

[ Well, that certainly manages to peel Stiles’ attention away from the footprints he’s inexpertly tracking. In his surprise, he accidentally shines the light of his phone on Jonas’ face before hurriedly swinging it away again with a sheepish apology. Once he makes sure that he hasn’t lost the trail, he chews on this new information. ]

Mutant bears, huh? Oh my. [ The joke falls flat; Stiles is unnerved. ] Is she – uh, never mind, you already said she’s okay.

[ Frowning, he tries to envision the area described and is unable to. ]

I’ve spent most of my time in the inner city so far. Where exactly are the outskirts? Like, is it inside the Wall or outside it? I know. Outskirts. But...figure I should ask just in case.

(lifts a pickled hand against the light with a snort, one eye squinting.) –point away, away. Zelda's serious about going it alone tonight, so she told me to get her at sun-up. Sleep may be a write-off, but I'd rather make sure she's really alright.

(his shoes are already soaking through in the melting snow, kicking through a puddle with a shaky sigh. he's only managed to buy a couple of new shirts and a pair of pants so far, none he prefers to wear. now he needs boots, socks, and whatever the hell else necessary to stay warm and dry in this place.)

Anyway, she's gonna' send me the address, so until then I'm as clueless as you are about it. I'm assuming it's just beyond the Wall, or in the, uh– the settlements scattered out there. Maybe even farther. (shakes his head, turning the nearest street corner.) ... could you imagine having to live out there? The poor get shafted in Aefenglom, too.

[ Zelda. Having met with the young woman before, Stiles perks with interest at the mention of her name. It does worry him that she would explore the fringes of civilization, but also not particularly surprising; Zelda definitely seems the curious, hands-on sort. He can relate – though, so far, his own investigations have kept him well within the city limits. ]

Let me know how she’s doing when you see her. And, uh, tell her I say hi.

[ Wait, maybe he’s misunderstanding, but… ]

Hold up. I mean, yeah it’s really screwed up about the poor, but – are you telling me she’s going tonight again and alone? And she wants you to meet her…out there? In the morning?

[ Warning sirens are going off. This does not sound safe. ]

(about to say "can do," to acting as the middleman for stiles' greeting, but holds up when he's directed to. jonas even slows to give him his full attention, raising a hand to pacify him.)

No, she's with someone... he's a vampire like Sasuke. Apparently he saved her earlier in the night from the Cwyld, and now she's staying at his place till morning. (understands how trying this information can sound, so he attempts to be as succinct and as confident as he can be.) Then I'll be heading over there first thing, since I offered to walk her back.

It'll be a short detour in broad daylight. I promise, man.

[ “A vampire like Sasuke” does not instill much confidence in Stiles, though he keeps those thoughts to himself. It does seem he’s been otherwise convinced that Jonas isn’t about to run headlong into danger, however. With a hum, he gives the mission his unofficial blessing. ]

Sorry, I don’t mean to be like an overbearing parent. Just got worried after… [ Well, he doesn’t really need to say how disastrous the night has been. ] Anyway, give me a call if you need help. Like, ever. Not just tomorrow.

[ Awkwardly clearing his throat (it’s embarrassing to make offers like that), Stiles guides them past a row of buildings, pausing as the trail takes a turn into an alley. ]

(it's odd to hear it outright admitted to, having wondered if stiles realized it himself. underestimation, maybe, of the friend he's still getting to know. jonas isn't embarrassed but—once again—touched he'd even offer in the first place. already he can feel himself associating him with loyalty. help where he least expects it.)

Of course I will. (a bit dumbly, eyebrows high.) Stiles, I know I seem unused to this and that's partly because I am, but I don't want you sacrificing yourself for me, or– I don't know. You could've gotten seriously hurt and for what? That's not even a dunk on myself, I'm like, so serious right now.

(for someone who's positive they won't live out a trip home?)

We'll go it fifty-fifty. So long as that's okay, I'll call you if I'm... (it may not be the best time to trail off, but something down the alley's catching his eye in a way that makes his head spin. moonlight sheds between the roofs of the parallel buildings, making it shine black, blacker than anything he's seen—like pitch, like tar.) If I'm... uh.

–dude, what is that? Is that oil?

Edited 2020-02-16 18:23 (UTC)

[ Honestly, it’s a damn relief to put this conversation on hold. Stiles has become looser in discussing the ongoings of his home world with other Mirrorbound, but he’s not sure how Jonas will take it yet. Probably well, to be fair – he’s just trying to keep his one semi-normal friendship as normal as possible, going forward. ]

Blood, [ he corrects with a low, grim confidence, but Stiles gets the impression Jonas probably already has realized that much. Then, a bit louder: ] Sasuke?

[ Silence. The alley seems bereft of any and all activity. He still hesitates, shining the light from his phone over every visible inch of the area before finally stepping forward. Swallowing, he jerks his head at Jonas, as if to say, “Okay, you try calling out.” ]

(his stomach rolls with a confirmation that's expected but no less jarring to hear. this environment is doing nothing to assuage his fears, really ill at the reality of the situation they're in. a friend was forced to betray his humanity and kill whatever's left soaking into cobblestone. fresh, frightful.

an arm comes up to block his nose and mouth, breathing into his sleeve.)

There's no way I'm doing that. (whispered adamantly.) I don't actually want him to hear us, so why do you? ... god, I think I'm gonna' be sick.

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