OTA; various locations and times

[mensrea]

A) One’s An Incident

“—listen to me!”

Somewhere near you, whether it’s at the park or on the sidewalk or in the café or riding the tube, there is a young man engaged in a heated conversation. The identity of the person he’s arguing with may not be readily obvious to those without supernatural hearing; the discussion is taking place over the phone. Should you attempt to tune Stiles out, it’ll quickly prove fruitless. His voice rises in volume the longer he’s on the call.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. …No! I’m not sending you a picture of it. There’s nothing to see! …No. …No. It was just an accident, okay!?”

Distractedly, Stiles turns in your direction. There is an ugly, swollen bruise taking up half his face, clearly the work of someone’s fist. You may be able to infer that this is what the fight is about.

“—oh my god, don’t. You were the one who shipped me off here. You don’t get to pull that card on me, not now. …Dad. …Dad. Would you— …Would you just TRUST me for once!?”

Whatever his father responds with, it elicits an immediate reaction from Stiles. Expression twisting miserably, he seems to lose all energy for continuing the exchange. His voice is wooden, weary.

“Fine. I gotta go. …Yeah, I will. …Alright. Love you too.”

The call ends. Maybe you make eye contact with Stiles awkwardly. Maybe you decide to talk to him. Maybe you try to pretend you hadn’t overheard.

“Sorry about that,” he says to you, light and cheery. His smile is tight. “You know how it is. My old man always has to get his say in.”

B) Two’s A Coincidence

If you venture to the library, you’ll likely find Stiles buried nose-deep in an oversized tome. He’s piled high a wall of literature around him, to the point where it might be difficult to see him from the front. The titles of the books? All on mythology and mythical creatures. On occasion, a particularly interesting passage has him muttering under his breath and jotting down a few notes in his journal. Feel free to pull up a chair and harass him; he could use a break.

C) Three’s A Pattern

Guess who just drove his shitty used bicycle into you or your vehicle? This guy. Eyes wide, he hastily stammers out an apology, then loses his balance. Both bike and boy crash to the ground in a mess of whizzing gears and muffled groans. Maybe he took you down with him.

D) Four’s A Warrant

Night in London isn’t kind to humans—not that that’s ever stopped Stiles from exploring the city at inappropriate hours. However, there’s something different about the young man tonight as he wanders the streets aimlessly. For one, he’s clad only in a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt with no shoes in sight. He doesn’t even have his trusty lacrosse stick on him! If you get close, you’ll see the unfocused, glassy fog to his eyes. Hopefully your intentions are well-meaning. Or maybe you’re looking for an easy snack. Either way, Stiles doesn’t seem to be in a position to argue.

( If you prefer brackets over prose, I’ll follow suit! PM me if you’d like to plot out a specific starter for your character! c: )

Comments

[mensrea]

Oh my god, it totally works! [ he shrieks in delight as the planchette slides across the wood without any pressure from his fingers. ] Holy crap, this is so neat.

[ And then he’s surging up to his feet once more, stumbling across the apartment to draw closed the blinds and snuff out every source of light. Then he tries to find his way back to the Ouija board in the dark; he didn’t think this through very well. Fortunately, there is very little damage he can do in his blind stumblings—after all, the place is already wrecked. ]

I mean, if we’re gonna do this, we should do it right, right?

[ Stiles trips over his backpack. Slowly sitting down, he digs through it once more and…pulls out two candles. ]

Hope you like the smell of “Elderflower and Lime.” Can you actually smell? Hold on.

[ Candle still unlit, he places the fingers of one hand back on the planchette. ]

Can you smell things still?

actually tagging this from the doctors office because this is too cute to handle

[megidoomed]

[ He's really going for full marks on the B-rated ghost flick test, huh. Luckily the raw enthusiasm is infectious - Aradia can't stop herself from breaking into a shameless fit of giggling as the room darkens, which only grows worse when Stiles trips over his bag. Maybe it's a good thing that he can't hear her laughter. His ego might not recover from such a deadly blow.

In hindsight, the lack of light could be a problem. Ghostly existence has several perks but perfect night vision is not one of them, regardless of what pop culture wants to believe, which'do been a complete letdown to discover. The faint almost-glow coating her view of the room sort-of makes up for it, even if details are lost to the fog.

But her amusement fades at the question, because that's one she actually has to think about. It's never occurred to her to check, really. ]

[ After a few moments, the planchette drifts over to 'no' with a sullen flick of telekinesis. Now she can't stop thinking about it, whyyy. ]

[mensrea]

Aw, that sucks. Though I guess it has its perks too?

[ Withdrawing a lighter from his bag, he lights both candles and sets them on either side of the board. ]

Like, boiled eggs? Smell so gross. Now you’ll never have to deal with that. …But you’ll never get to eat them either. Wow, no, that really does suck.

[ Stiles Stilinski: Professional Ghost Therapist, inadvertently convincing ghosts to accept their doors through insensitive and offhand commentary. ]

So, brace yourself, okay— [ And that’s the only warning he gives before asking, point blank… ] —Were you murdered?

[megidoomed]

[ Oh no.

It's probably for the best that Aradia wasn't in his phone anymore, if this is where the questions are headed. Bracing does nothing, defenses are useless against the instinctive gut-punch rejection of everything related to her death, why did he ask that why--

The candle flames gutter out as the temperature drops further. Ghostly panicangerfear bleed together and it crackles like white noise, excitement stifled in the face of what was such a well-meaning question. Not being a medium is finally working in Stiles' favour - he gets to skip the charming feedback her panic attack would cause, though the sudden spike of wrong is likely still tangible to mundane bricks like him.

Regardless of her feelings on the topic, the planchette creeps over to 'yes' without a moments hesitation. He didn't intend harm and if she doesn't elaborate maybe it'll stop. Hopefully. Right? ]

[mensrea]

Whoa.

[ Mouth sliding open, he almost starts to crawl away from the Ouija board backwards as the air becomes oppressively heavy and cold. But even as the candles flicker out, he can hear the soft scrape of the planchette as it slides over wood. Stiles licks his lips, reaches forward in the dark blindly, and touches the corner of the board where it is labeled YES. The planchette has been pushed there. ]

Okay. Alright. Sore subject, I know. I just—I was doing some digging on a few unsolved cases in the area, and… It’s not like I want to exorcise you or anything. But maybe I could find out more. Get justice for you or something.

[ His breath is visible, a puff of white in the dark, musty apartment. Hesitating, he relights the candles. ]

Wanna talk about something else…?

[megidoomed]

[ She nearly drags it to 'no' immediately to make him stop digging, stop looking, let her rot in peace - but his choice of words makes her hesitate. Justice still brings to mind laughter that sounds like knives with far too many teeth, and it's oddly reassuring against the onset of panic that her death brings forward. He only wanted to help. But help can lead to it's own brand of danger, if left unchecked, and she can't watch that happen again.

So instead the planchette slowly carves a message across the Ouija board, Aradia watching carefully to make sure it's understood. She has to trim her sentences to make it easier, but hopefully the meaning gets across unscathed. The lack of punctuation on this thing is a terrible design oversight.

'You can look if you want. But I can't keep it from seeing you too. Keep that in mind, okay.' Then she hesitates, watches the candles flickering in time to her slow tugging, tries to push her thoughts back from where she doesn't want to go. 'A new topic would be nice.' ]

[mensrea]

[ Brows knitting together, he tries to follow along with the message as best he can. He doesn’t quite understand what she means by “it,” and wonders what, exactly, killed Aradia. Before he can ask, the planchette is moving again and he’s forced to abandon the topic. Or be a super insensitive jerk. ]

Sure thing. Do you get bored a lot? Maybe next time I’ll bring a pack of playing cards. Or a game! Ever played Pokemon?

[ He’s already planning for his next visit. ]

[megidoomed]

[ The tension eases as Stiles moves off the topic, temperature drifting back slowly into the normal uncomfortable chill that clings to the room as Aradia gets her shit together. Breathe, even though she doesn't need to. She's not thinking about it. Nope.

'Sometimes.' About being bored, but it'd be too wordy to specify. 'It takes practice to do things. Computers are faster but break more.'

... which, incidentally, just revealed that his phone was totally in danger back there. Whoops. ]

[mensrea]

[ Stiles makes the connection almost immediately, cautiously reaching out to snatch up his cell phone and pocket it—as if that’d prevent her from possessing it again. ]

Right, so. We’ll stick to playing cards for now. Oh. Hey! By the way.

[ Grabbing a candle, he holds it up to his face and stares straight ahead where he is imagining her to be. ]

The name’s Stiles. Probably should have introduced myself sooner.

[megidoomed]

[ Wow, rude. Stiles' caution is admittedly understandable - it's not like their conversation started off on a friendly note - but it still gets a small frown. She wasn't planning on damaging his phone. Much.

But she perks back up at the question, and it's not long until the planchette begins moving yet again. 'Aradia. It's better late then never. And now I know what to remember.'

That... sounded less ominous in her head. ]

[mensrea]

Aradia?

[ Pretty, though also kind of unusual—which is all the more beneficial to Stiles, really; if he’s going to start digging into her case, it’ll be easier to find information on a victim with an uncommon name. ]

Uh, what do you mean, “what to remember?” My name?

[megidoomed]

[ Stiles has no idea how messy her case'll be, bless his heart. It'd worry her enough to warrant mentioning, but she has to fix her wording problem first. Crap.

The planchette clicks to 'yes' again, then switches to another longer message. 'I like having names for faces. Especially nice faces.' Hesitates, nitpicks wording, goes again. 'You're not trying to banish me even though you can't see me. That's important.'

Bleh. Novelty or not, the board is distinctly slower then the phone was, and it's starting to be an issue. It's still incredibly fun, though. ]

[mensrea]

[ Patience isn’t precisely a virtue of his, and yet Stiles is willing to wait for the longer messages to be spelt out. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, after all. It would be cheap to switch over to cell phone possession—and he does not want her in there again, thank you. ]

Nice face, huh? [ If he sounds pleased, it’s because he is. ] Aw! You think so? I mean, you said earlier I didn’t look like the kind of guy who ever got sexts, but…

[ Yeah, he totally isn’t realizing how important to her the last bit is. For him, it’s a given. ]

[megidoomed]

[ Wait, did she just

She might be a little bit grateful that Stiles can't see ghosts, because this one might've just realized what "nice face" sounds like and is currently dying of embarrassment. Again.

'Its. I mean you're being kind and you didn't have to be.' Note to future-Aradia: think about sentence structure more, love past-Aradia. 'The sexts thing still stands. With proof.' ]

[mensrea]

Wow, uh.

[ There goes his self-esteem and dignity, right down the drain with his dreams. Not even a dead girl finds him attractive. Growing up is hard and no one understands. ]

I’ll just…sob that one out into my diary later tonight. Awkward. Let’s move on.

[ A little spitefully, he kills one of the candle flames with his fingers. It hurts. He probably looks even lamer now, as he shakes out his hand and whines. ]

Is there anything you want to ask?

[megidoomed]

[ 'Wait. I didn't mean' and the planchette clicks awkwardly down, Aradia struggling to work out how to repair the sudden hole her lack of tact just made in the conversation. This is why she's happier being an emotionless, friendless, corpse girl. That way she doesn't have to worry about hurting people's feelings. Why is talking so hard.

'I was trying to be silly. I'm sorry.' The message might be a little slurred from how fast she's trying to flick through letters, though she's not even sure if he's looking at the board anymore. Crap. 'If it helps the opinion of a ghost doesn't count for much. We're pretty boring after a while. And I didn't look at your phone.' ]

[mensrea]

[ The noise of plastic on wood has him hurriedly tilting the remaining candle toward the board. It’s difficult to make out what she’s saying—the lighting is awful now and she’s manipulating the planchette with urgently—but he gets the gist of it. ]

It’s fine, don’t worry. [ Mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating grin, he shrugs. ] I’m just being overly dramatic. Don’t tell anyone I do that, though. It’ll be our secret. And dude, the opinion of a ghost totally counts, okay?

[megidoomed]

[ 'Your secret dramatics are safe with me. I promise.'

She's not entirely sold on things being fine, but Aradia's wary of accidentally being awful again so it goes more-or-less unremarked. It's easier to pretend it didn't happen. 'It doesn't count as much because I'm dead. And I'm okay with that.'

The planchette slides to a halt afterwards. It's hard to think of how to give him an out if he wants to leave - it'd be understandable, given how the conversation's shifted from nice to rude and back again, but it's important that she tries.

'But thank you. For being nice.' ]

[mensrea]

[ Stiles has hardly come to her haunt with the intention of being nice, so he’s left a little uncomfortable by the gratitude. If he were a better person, maybe he’d feel ashamed. But he fortunately decides not to dwell on regret for long; his curiosity has been sated for the time being, and he has investigation to carry out. ]

Don’t sweat it.

[ Thank god he withholds a follow-up about how she cant’ sweat anything. Blowing out the candles a final time, he squints in the dark. ]

Hey, I’m gonna keep these here. The board too. You can use it when you have guests.

[ And that way, he doesn’t have to keep lugging it over. ]

i'm really sorry for how long this reply took D:

[megidoomed]

[ With the candles dead, Aradia's not sure if he expects a reply - there's a message scratched across the board regardless ('I don't mind even if I don't really get visitors. It's nice to have something new around.') in case Stiles' hand is still on the planchette, but other then that she's clueless on how to proceed.

Even if he hadn't come here with noble intentions - which she'd suspected herself, though she's since downgraded the human to 'mostly harmless' - it's still oddly reassuring to talk to actual people. It's enough to warrant what little courtesy she has, and she tries one last go at the planchette before he leaves. 'Feel free to visit whenever. I promise I won't spook you as badly.' ]