middaeg | this is the life you see

(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.

What? [ he whispers back, totally baffled. ] What did you think the point of coming out here was!?

[ Really, it’s so strange to be this out-of-sync with a partner. That’s the issue, though: Jonas isn’t a partner. At least, not in the sense that Stiles is unconsciously treating him. This isn’t a friend from the pack who knows what the expectation is on a mission like this. Stiles doesn’t want to assume too much about Jonas’ own world, but it seems as if it may have been fairly normal. This is probably a lot for him to take in; Stiles needs to keep that in mind and explain himself better if he wants to keep them both safe. ]

I was hoping we could talk him down before he hurts someone. Snap him out of it. Then, if possible, get him something he can safely feed on.

[ Sympathetic, he moves to pat Jonas’ shoulder as the other teen balks at the blood, then recalls the way Jonas reacted to his touch in the kitchen and drops his arm instead. ]

Wanna watch my back? I’m gonna head in. Or do you need a minute?

[ And, before Jonas can answer, Stiles’ cell phone finally dies – the light that had been illuminating the area vanishes into inky darkness, punctuated by a groaned curse from Stiles himself. ]

("safely feed on" is what seems to do him. coupled with the sudden lack of light, something he's almost thankful for—accustomed to operating within it—as he leans against the brick wall with a guttural heave. he's no stranger to puking himself better, hangovers preparing him for what is inevitably a cleansing of a sick body. so there's no ceremony to it, a one-and-done spew with a sharp spit.)

Dude.

(fumbles with his watch to give them what little ambient glow he can. his own cell phone lies in the cottage, hidden under a pile of the things he's already collected. no charger, no power.)

I thou–hhhueh... thought we were gonna' find signs, then– I don't know... head back? (wiping his mouth with a full body shake, tucking his arms into a tight cross before venturing back to a more defensible location.) You came to look for him and I came to make sure you didn't die horribly like– like whatever that was did.

If this'll be good for you, investigate. I don't need to go anywhere near that.

[ The very sound of the act is nearly enough to make Stiles’ stomach heave in sympathy, though he steels himself with a heavy swallow. He aches to offer Jonas a water or a shoulder to lean on; Stiles remembers reacting with similar horror and disgust the first several occasions he came across corpses. The fact that he’s become so accustomed to blood, where before the smell of it would make him sick…it feels like Stiles has lost something, something he’ll never get back. If he can prevent Jonas from also losing that something, he will. ]

Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. It’ll help if you’re noisy about it. Take it from someone who has a lot of panic attacks.

[ Advice given, Stiles takes a deep breath himself and then enters the alley. He isn’t gone longer than three minutes; when he reemerges, there’s a look of grim satisfaction on his face. ]

The snow melted too much on the opposite end. I can’t follow the trail any further. [ Despite that, he doesn’t seem disappointed. ] The footprints in the alley are a mess. It…doesn’t look like he was fighting.

[ He was trying to catch something, he thinks, but he doesn’t know where the thought comes from. It just feels like…instinctive knowledge. Stiles refuses to dwell further on it. ]

C’mon. Let’s head back. He should be okay.

(noisy breaths don't help him with his non-existent panic attack, but they do fight back his nausea extremely well. in through the nose and out through the mouth, the tried and true method of coping with literally anything from stress to pain.)

Are you some kinda' tracking expert? (a genuine question posed when he gets his shit together, sighing deep at the blood before shaking his head.) There's– that's a lot. I don't know. I'm not gonna' look a gift horse in the mouth and refuse to go back, but how do you know he's okay?

(an obvious addition, already reaching out to beckon him offsite.)

Or that... the person or thing he attacked is okay?

I don’t – not for sure.

[ The gesture to leave is met with a nod of agreement from Stiles. He hustles over to Jonas’ side while shoving fisted hands under his armpits, trying to warm numb fingers. On the return home, he’s much less suspicious of their surroundings. ]

My dad’s a cop, [ he begins, a somber pitch to his voice at mention of the Sheriff. ] I’m definitely not an expert, but… I’ve been kinda dealing with stuff like this for a while, back home. There was only one pair of footprints in the alley before I walked through. I wasn’t sure why the tracks got so messed up toward the middle at first, then I thought maybe he was trying to catch something – something too light to leave prints behind. So, whatever bled? Probably an animal. The footprints would have been deeper if he was carrying something heavier.

Seriously? (stiles' dad being a cop... he doesn't know why it's strange to hear.

he's had too many run-ins that've tainted his overall opinion of them, but he'd be hard-pressed to say something like that aloud. it's unnecessary, and if stiles is this friendly then he's sure some of that translates to the sheriff. the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.)

Man, I had no idea. It's really cool you can tell all that from blood spatter and a few footprints. I feel like, one hundred percent better about the situation. (tries to keep his watch up despite the cold that makes him want to curl up in a pile of blankets and sleep.) Okay, not one hundred percent, but maybe a middling fifty or sixty. Which is still an improvement.

(hot huff clouding, jonas gives a cold sniff and shrugs broad shoulders.)

Could you teach me that? How to look at stuff like that?

Hey, I can accept fifty or sixty. Almost a passing grade, dude. It’s not like I’ve ever been an overachiever.

[ Melted snow has seeped through the fabric of his shoes. Stiles mentally sighs; soggy socks really are the worst. ]

If you wanna learn, I can try to teach you. Hopefully without the need of actual crime scenes, ha. But why’re you interested?

I don't know. (he confesses, thinking it interesting. could be decent training for when he heads out to hunt with arthur as well, feeling the need to impress the man.) If we're gonna' be following Sasuke around, I should probably know these things, right? So I can help out.

(raises an arm to tuck it comfortably behind his head, trying not to think about the state sasuke's in right now. he has to stay calm and think rationally about this. it's better for everyone if they just go back to the cottage.

it's well within sight now, at least, after a moment more of idle walking and splashing through slush.)

Can't just make you shoulder all this on your own, now, can I?

[ A small, selfish part of Stiles doesn’t want to share what he’s learned. It took him so long – stalking police radio chatter, watching brutal, detective-related documentaries, experiencing grisly crime scenes firsthand – to even get to this point. Honestly? He can’t help feeling like it’s the only valuable skills he has to offer, especially after said skill fell out of practical use back home when the rest of the pack could track through scent. But he understands where his housemate is coming from. And, more importantly, it’s Jonas asking. So, he shoves aside his childish sentiments. ]

I’ll teach you, [ Stiles says firmly, just to get it out of the way. ] I need you to know, though… You’re not making me shoulder it alone. I mean, c’mon. This is kinda my mess, and you came to help anyway. And if you hadn’t stepped in, back in the kitchen, things might’ve gotten a hell of a lot messier.

[ Sight of the cottage up ahead is cause for celebration, in his opinion. Aware of Jonas’ previous injury and illness, he tries to restrain his pace from picking up automatically. ]

Yeah, sorry, I just... say that stuff automatically. (a bit of a bad habit, taking on problems that aren't meant to be his; people can handle themselves. he has to remember not to help when help isn't asked for, considering zelda's told him off for it already.) I feel useless in situations like these, and I think that's how it manifests.

(approaching the cottage, jonas still manages to shoot stiles a grateful half-smile while ignoring how lightheaded the evening's made him. guess he needs to watch out not to get hurt around sasuke too, if it'll cause alarm like it did tonight.)

I know I'm not expected to know the first thing about the mind-boggling stuff that's been happening, but I should learn it eventually. Especially if we're gonna' be here forever.

(uh, well.)

Not... forever. (not really, right?) I mean like, for the foreseeable future.

this is the life you see

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/fin!!!!!!