undergrounds | CLOSED; Heiji & Derek; 6/16

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CLOSED; Heiji & Derek; 6/16

Early afternoon has set over London when Stiles arrives at Hall Place & Gardens, the location he chose for Heiji and Derek to discuss alliances. The tourist attraction is in Bexley, which is near enough to pack territory that Derek shouldn’t feel too out of his element. And the museum itself should be of interest to Heiji, if the meeting goes horribly awry. Which it very well could. God knows what the hell goes on behind Derek Hale’s broody, angry brow. Stiles suspects not an awful lot, to be honest.

Hanging around the entrance to the gardens, by the parking lot, he waits for the two men to arrive. Maybe he can convince one or both of them to help pay for his ticket… After all, he’s just the third party organizing all this. They should be grateful. Grateful enough to buy him admission, and maybe a souvenir he can ship home to his old man or Scott. Derek is probably loaded with money, right? What’s sixty pounds to him, or six hundred…?

With a restless sigh, he digs out his cell to double check his messages. By the time one of them approaches him, he’s totally absorbed in a game of Angry Birds.

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He was rather abruptly interrupted by Heiji looking over his shoulder, having walked up behind him to see what it was that had so captured his attention.

"Hey, I'm here! You're not gonna play on your cell phone the whole time, are ya? Heard this place has got the ghost of the Black Prince wanderin' around!"

The cell phone is fumbled in his surprise, though he manages to hold onto it. Peering at Heiji over his shoulder, he fixes the young man with a reproachful look. What is it with the supernatural types always needing to sneak up on him!? But Heiji distracts him from voicing any complaints.

“Whoa, seriously!? Oh man, we should find it!”

Totally not what they came for, but. Y’know.

Amidst the finely-tuned greenery of an English country garden, Derek looks quite ridiculously out of place. Something about the combination of leather jacket and sour expression does not seem to bode well for the summer roses. Looking uninterested, he continues to glance around as he approaches the two of them, mainly for the sake of caution but also fulfilling a mild kind of interest - sightseeing has never really been his thing. It's a minor distraction from his own uncertainty.

Naturally, he catches the beginning of their conversation, and decides to ignore it. He should have known that they'd be awful influences on each other.

"Stiles."

Well, it's a greeting. He looks between them, offering the fae a nod. Seeing him in his other skin is jarring, but less so than he perhaps expected. Although human, there's something reminiscent of the fox in his face.

"Heiji."

Hi friends.

“Uh, maybe later,” Stiles decides about the Black Prince as an aside to the fae. Pocketing the cell phone, he rocks on his heels while glancing between the two men. A fox and a wolf. He’s almost giddy from how ridiculous it is—how surreal this world that he’s been caught up in is. “Gentlemen! Seriously, Derek, don’t you own anything else to wear? Jeez.”

Pivoting, Stiles begins to meander through the gardens curiously. It’s rather pretty here, even if the precise, groomed aesthetics are lost on him beyond a general appreciation.

“Also, I’m charging you both a fee for utilizing my services. Buy me my ticket and we can call it even.”

There were certainly some similarities. For one thing, Heiji's eyes were that same blue-green color they'd been on that rooftop. Heiji himself was dressed rather casually; he looked exactly like a tourist from out of the country should look, in fact. He nodded at Derek in turn. "Thanks for coming."

Then he turned to Stiles. "Running low on cash?" he asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Don't worry, I gotcha. So where d'you want to talk? Never been here before, myself."

A lone goose waddled past them, apparently on a bit of a wander from the river.

Maybe the polite answer would be a thanks for inviting me, but Derek just nods, an appropriation of the same sentiment. He's not sure how grateful he is yet. Especially when Stiles is mouthing off. Derek narrowly avoids retorting that Stiles has seen him in a suit.

"If you need covered, just say as much," he says instead, but despite the huff in his voice he doesn't seem particularly irritated. At least, compared to the usual. He looks at Heiji. "I'm almost surprised you weren't the one suggesting we meet here. Seems like your kind of place."

The goose honks at him. Derek stares at it until it waddles away. Geese happen to be less susceptible to a dominant alpha than dogs.

Stiles is giving the goose a wide berth. He knows, from personal experience, that you don’t screw around with those birds. Not only do they crap more than a baby on laxatives, but they’re also vicious as hell.

“It’s more like a pale imitation of the Other Realm,” he says in response to Derek’s observation, snorting. He remembers vividly what the home of the fae looked like; it put Beacon Hills to shame. “And there are tons of gardens here, so take your pick, dude. I’m just here to look pretty and mooch off you guys.”

Was Derek trying to impose his force of will on a goose...?

"Well, I figured it should be someone wasn't on one side or the other to figure out logistics." A neutral party... sort of. Okay, he had been a little apprehensive about leaving the details up to Stiles, but it had worked out in the end (seemingly).

"Let's just walk and see where the path takes us, yeah?" The goose gave Stiles the stink-eye and reared its neck back, not quite hissing yet but give it time. When Heiji spoke, he did so casually, so as not to attract any undue notice. Fortunately, there weren't too many visitors around this time of day.

"I don't know how much you guys know about the situation back home, so tell me if I'm repeating anything. Basically, we've got two sides in charge. They trade off during winter and summer, and they barely ever agree on anything. But recently, that's changed. Do you know anything about sealing rituals?"

After a brief, stunned stare leveled in Stiles' direction in response to that shred of information - the Other Realm? him? really? - Derek resumes his eye-rolling and steady stoicism. The goose's reaction to Stiles endears him to the bird somewhat purely out of spite, but he's focused on Heiji, on the easy tempo of his tone. From his manner, one might think he's careless. Derek thinks he knows better. They wouldn't be here, otherwise. It's a knowledge that only makes him more suspicious, but he's also left more willing to hear him out.

A moment passes in silence, because Derek doesn't like being without answers and likes admitting it even less, but he shakes his head.

"I'm guessing not enough." He glances at Stiles, thinking that he probably knows even less, and that prompts him to elaborate. "Prevents Doors from being opened, right?"

"Basically, yeah. It means that fae can't get in or out of most of southeast London through their usual means -- and if there's anything the fae hate, it's someone else tellin' them what they can't do and where they can't go. But more practically, it means that fae in those sealed areas are stuck there without a way back to Faery unless they can get clear of the locked zone. So in a way, Daybreak's agenda against the dark witches has finally provoked the Courts into action. They're ready to move."

By this time, Heiji's manner had turned serious. "One way or another, the fae are going to make their appearance in London. It's Daybreak and the Night Council that they have a problem with, which I think should make it clear why we're talkin' now." Circle Daybreak and the Night Council had close ties; The Night Council held Islington Nest as its ally. The Pack, on the other hand, had a fierce rivalry with the vampires. They were also rather visibly not represented on the Council.

Edited 2015-06-26 00:17 (UTC)

Arm outstretched, Stiles drags his hand along a row of hedges as they walk. He remains silent, allowing the two men to speak without interruption. But in spite what his flippant, nonchalant demeanor might suggest, he’s listening avidly to the conversation. Before his trip to London, the fae were a class of the supernatural that Stiles had been the most ignorant about. Since then, he’s done more than his fair share of research on the Internet and at the local libraries. So he isn’t particularly surprised by any of the information Heiji shares now. In fact, his suspicions on why Heiji chose Derek as a potential ally are confirmed. A grim kind of satisfaction chills him.

Deciding to remain quiet, he glances askance at Derek, curious about how the werewolf will respond.

"It was already clear," Derek says, snorting a mirthless laugh. There's little scorn in the observation; instead, the resignation in Derek's voice suggests understanding, knowing. Maybe he's not up to date on current fae politics, but he knows the position of his own pack and knows, too, how it reflects that of the fae. It's something he'd never considered before, but now it's becoming difficult to ignore. They're not the only ones conspicuously absent from the authorities, after all. Empath he is not, but he finds he can sympathize too easily.

Derek finds himself glancing back at Stiles, inscrutable in his uncertainty, because there's a bit of him that's curious about what he thinks about all this, both from the perspective of an outsider and that of the one responsible for their current meeting. Silent and pensive, he looks to Heiji again. While the fae hasn't said anything directly, Derek knows what he's leading up to.

"So, where are you hitting?"

"Bexley and Bromley," said Heiji, without hesitation. "I'm trusting you to keep that to yourselves, by the way. It'll be a pain if Daybreak gets advance notice."

Not that it would make much difference; they were still confident they'd win. But it would make things more complicated. "Basically, we're proposing a nonaggression agreement. We don't try to move into Pack territory, and vice versa. As long as they don't hassle the fae, pack members can pass freely through any of our territory."

"We're not askin' for an officially recognized alliance, either -- I figure that might bring up some awkward questions for ya from the Council, Redbright, and so on. But you can expect some assistance from us if they come knockin' at your door someday. Probably Islington, too; not too crazy about them."

He snorts again, but his expression is serious when he nods. Whatever consequences might come from alerting Daybreak or others, Derek doesn't intend to find out. Would Stiles say the same? He shoots him a considering look, but is ever quick to keep his attention on Heiji. It's less out of suspicion than even he'd expected. Instead, he finds himself wondering.

The terms, as Heiji puts them forward, are good. More than fair, in fact. Derek is tempted to take them as they are, but maybe it's his sense of honour that has him deigning to speak.

"I'm not going to force my pack to get involved in other people's fights. You'll get me. You'll get whoever wants to come with me. But don't expect every wolf to fight for you."

Stiles has abandoned all pretenses of inattention. Arms folded over his chest, he walks backwards slowly so that he can study Heiji and Derek in turn. There’s a rapt, hungry interest sharpening his normally relaxed features. Right before his very eyes, he’s witnessing a tenuous alliance being forged. The convoluted politics of a foreign world are drawing him in like a moth to the flame, and a fever starts to burn him up from the inside. He’s reminded of the chess game he played against Derek, of capturing the black pieces one by one.

“What about Havering?”

Head tilted, he glances at Derek briefly and then focuses on Heiji. He’s not entirely sure why he’s asking, because this is the type of question that might put his friend on the spot. But Stiles invited Derek here; he feels a strange sense of responsibility for determining the details of the unofficial alliance. After all, Stiles knows from firsthand experience that Derek is terrible at negotiating.

“It’s not pack territory, but it’s on the outskirts. Would the fae eventually want to claim that too?”

Edited 2015-06-30 20:38 (UTC)

Heiji's smile was one of keen interest, the very same expression he got when working through a particularly challenging puzzle. "One of the others mentioned wanting to pursue it. It's a fae thing, the river. But I thought that might be a little too provocative. You've already got Islington, plus Redbright expanding on the other side."

Well, that and he thought Bromley would be the better bet for containing Daybreak. Havering would have been a retreat in his eyes: too timid. Of course he'd avoided bringing up any concern for East End among the other fae, who he figured were not all inclined to factor in the feelings of another faction when making their plans. Especially not a faction that hadn't agreed to help yet.

He looked at Stiles, then Derek. "If you want, I can ask the others to leave it alone. I can't make any guarantees, but the request would have more weight coming from you. Plus, you guys might wanna expand at some point. Am I wrong?"

When Stiles speaks up, Derek stares at him. He isn't seeing him in a new light, so to speak. He has already known that Stiles is clever, calculating, capable, so evidence of it - he hadn't even thought about Havering - isn't so striking. What draws his focus is, instead, the fact that Stiles is putting it to use for the benefit of him, of his pack. He doesn't get it. Their relationship has been, at best, tense. Despite his own suspicion, there seems little conclusion to be drawn but Stiles acting in his interests. And despite his own suspicion, he almost made a potentially grievous error.

Slowly, he drags his gaze back to meet Heiji's. Focusing again on the matter at hand, he shakes his head. "Havering is the first place we'd look. The fae will be free in our territory, provided they're not trying to toy with my pack. Fair?"

Eyes bright and warm, Stiles quirks a lopsided grin at Heiji. He’s inordinately pleased with the answer, even though he trusts the kitsune implicitly. The honesty just hammers home what he already knows. Still beaming, he glances over at Derek to check how the alpha is reacting—only to be startled by the intense look levelled in his direction. Stiles doesn’t have the faintest idea how to interpret that frown. Did he step on some werewolfy toes or something? While the guy doesn’t seem pissed, per se, it can be difficult to get a read on Derek at times. Probably because Derek expresses himself through a spectrum of frowns and scowls.

Distracted, it doesn’t take long for Stiles’ to lose his balance as he walks backwards. Which is how, seconds following the werewolf’s response, he trips over a loose flagstone, rolls down a hill, and ends up in a pond.

"Fair -- " started Heiji, and then Stiles fell in the pond what even. He ran down the hill and down to the pond, giving Stiles a look of naked disbelief. How did this happen. Why.

Nevertheless, he stretched out his hand for Stiles to grab as a goose (possibly the same one from before) glided up and decided Stiles's shirt looked pretty tasty. It grabbed for a beakful of sleeve because it was a terrible dinogoose and it needed to hurt someone.

Fair, indeed. Derek barely hears; Stiles tumbles backwards and he snaps around, pulled taut and tense by readiness, his world narrowing down to every infinitesimal moment of the anticipated fight. It doesn't come. His eyes fall to Heiji hurrying away down to the bank before they reach Stiles, floundering amidst algae and waterlilies. Ridiculous as the sight is, Derek looks around, still expecting something to happen. Gradually, he unclenches his hands, straightens up.

For a few long moments, punctuated by Stiles' thrashing, Derek lingers on the path, gaze resting on the fae. Eventually, he decides to head down the hill after them. He doesn't think they need the help, and he's not intending to wade in himself, but Heiji - he just can't be sure about him, and while he doesn't expect him to drown Stiles here in the park, doesn't really expect him to do anything like that, suspicion makes him keen to keep close to the two of them.

He does offer some measure of assistance, however. The goose honks at him in protest as he draws near, feathers and water sprayed up into the air as it struggles to maintain a hold on its quarry. Thankfully, Derek wins, and the bird releases Stiles and flaps away. As Stiles rises from the water, looking like a sopping wet idiot, Derek gives him a once over. It's less scathing than he'd like.

Welcome to the life of one Stiles Stilinski.

When the teen resurfaces (resembling a particularly ungraceful whale in its death throes), he immediately spits out a mouthful of water. Unfortunately, that mouthful of water—scummy, algae-thickened, pond water—sprays directly in Heiji’s direction. In Stiles’ defense, he has no idea; his eyes are still closed.

“I seriously—oh my god!” he sputters, jerking wildly as a saw-like teeth seize his arm. It’s the goose! It’s going in for the kill! This is how he’s going to die! Except the goose releases him abruptly, leaving him to wonder why—

Well, being in the company of a werewolf has its perks, he supposes.

“I think I swallowed a lily pad.”

Once he’s back on land, Stiles holds his arms out to his sides and stares down at himself in misery.

Heiji gave Stiles a Look as he stood there, partially covered in algae. Water dripped down his face and onto his shirt. Really, Stiles? Really?

He resisted the incredibly strong urge to turn back into a fox and shake himself off and instead nudged at Stiles's shoulder. "You ain't leave a change of clothes at the visitor's, did ya? Probably a bench around here where you can dry off."

As soon as Heiji was reasonably sure that no one was looking, little blue flames appeared on his shoulders and in his hair. They dried his clothing and licked at the algae that remained on him, reducing them to ashes that he could then brush away.

Derek's first thought, after being assured that yeah, Stiles is fine, is thank God it doesn't reflect on him. But then he considers that and wonders how true it really is. After all, he wouldn't be here if not for Stiles. Would Heiji? It's hard to say, and Derek looks between them but can't figure it out. There's a give and take here, a coordination and negotiation that goes beyond and below what they're discussing.

Toeing algae off his boot, Derek glances sidelong at Heiji in commiseration before the fire sparks along his frame. His eyes widen in surprise, though it's a reaction that doesn't last. Fae. So far, his alliances - a word he uses loosely and with no small amount of paranoia - have been in some of the places he least expected, but then, he hardly expected them at all.

"Up here," he says, inclining his head back up the hill and down the path, to where a free row of benches sit in the sun. He looks at Stiles, and sighs. Heavily. "I keep a change in my car."

It's an offer, even if he does his best to make it sound otherwise.

The werewolf’s offer stalls Stiles; blinking, he pauses in the midst of reaching for one of the blue flames. Really, it’s probably for the best that he never learns whether or not fae fire will burn him. With a longsuffering sigh, he bunches up his shirt to a side and wrings the excess water out. Now that the adrenaline rush is wearing off, he’s become increasingly aware of how uncomfortably cold he is. God does he miss California.

“What is it with you people and keeping spare clothes in your car?” he grumbles, reminded of the incident with Apollo only a few days prior.

Stiles starts to trek up the hill, but is quickly stopped by the current uselessness of his sneakers. Toeing out of them, he ties the laces together before hanging them over his shoulder.

“Did you guys finish your…whatever it is?”

Stiles, no, fire bad. Heiji gave Derek a quick smile; he kept forgetting that the people here might be a little unnerved by such casual use of magic. But it was second nature to him, and anyway, the alternative was trying to lick himself clean or something. He wasn't a cat.

"Yeah, I'd say we're about done. I don't think there's any contracts to be drawn up or anything." He clapped Stiles on the back.

"Anyhow, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth! You can just change real quick and by the time it's time to leave, your clothes'll be dry! No sweat." Of course, there was a question of whether Derek's clothes would fit Stiles, or if this spare clothing included an embarrassing printed T-shirt. But that probably didn't matter.

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