undergrounds | OTA; various locations and times

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OTA; various locations and times

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: )

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Heiji gave Stiles a friendly slap on the back; he hadn't been expecting to run into someone he knew on his brief jaunt to the park, but hey. He certainly had gotten an earful.

"Aww, don't sweat it! My old man's the same way. I ever tell you he's the one that sent me out here?"

"Stiles?" this was the last place Stiles should be, at this time of night. it had to be him, even from the other end of the street she knew it was him. bidding adieu to the man she'd been speaking with, she hurried closer to him, as fast as her heels would let her.

when Nancy drew close, she noticed the sweats. and she noticed the lack of shoes. "Stiles?" she called again, worry ringing her voice. "what are you doing out here? it's almost 2-- where are your shoes?" this wasn't good. and neither was the fact that he didn't seem to be focusing on her. frowning, she placed a hand cautiously on his arm.

"Stiles?"

No. No, Stiles does not take anyone with him. He crashes into this thing and barely leaves a scratch.

Trevor's in the middle of a hangover, and he barely even hears Stiles' apology - or maybe he doesn't care. Either way, he slams a hand on the horn and honks it. Keeps honking. Just this loud, endless drone blasting out at this stupid child who had the audacity to crash into him. Half-holding his head, he shouts some kind of swear at Stiles but it's not even audible over the noise.

Why hadn't he been a little faster. He already feels like death warmed over -- in so many ways, and he's on foot -- and this is not a good start to his day.

No, actually, just allow him to lie here on the ground for a minute and stare up at the sky, hearing that all too familiar voice.

"... I hate you."

She's walking past the library when she catches the trail, a familiar scent of humansugarother that she associates with only one person, and she stops, crossing her arms and looking up at the building, debating.

She ends up going inside, following the trail to a massive stack of books on a table, and she hears him muttering before she sees him, coming to stand just outside of his peripheral vision. Malia taps her fingers on her bicep, and then bends down over his shoulder, looking at the book he's reading.

"What're you reading?"

With a faint "oof" in response to that hearty back-clap, Stiles straightens and shoots Heiji a curious look before shaking his head in the negative. As far as distractions go, this is an effective one; Stiles can never turn down an opportunity to learn more about others.

"Nope. How come?"

The touch is not acknowledged, but it does manage to get Stiles to stop walking. Swaying on his feet, he stares off into the distance blankly for a moment. Then, with a small sigh, he mumbles something unintelligible under his breath.

Well, that horn is certainly effective at getting said stupid child off his ass and back onto his feet. Stumbling in disorientation, he takes a moment to regain some equilibrium before staring at the driver incredulously. He holds up a hand as if to signal that he just needs a moment to grab his bike and move, but the honking does...not...stop... Stiles thinks he may go permanently deaf.

"Alright, alright, alright, alright," he shrieks, slamming both hands down on the hood of the ugly truck. His father would have cuffed him; the Sheriff has warned Stiles many a time about provoking drivers with road rage. "Knock it off!"

"I dunno, he's always sayin' I'm a disgrace." Well, that was delivered cheerfully. "Sayin' I'm too young for this and that, that I ain't ready for whatever pops up. Punched me pretty hard one time at a crime scene."

H...a... ha ha...

"Don't be so dramatic," he grouses from where he too is splayed out on the ground, partially on the bicycle and partially on Sasuke. "When you say things like that, I want less and less to be friends with you."

“Oh my GOD.”

The book goes flying, possibly the first literary astronaut of our time, before it is stopped by the ceiling above and crashes back down onto his head. Such is his life. Clutching his skull, he turns to stare wide-eyed and slack-faced at Malia.

“What are you,” he hisses, voice lowered carefully, “some kind of coyote ninja!?”

Oh. Sorry. Does Stiles not like that? Trevor keeps it going for about thirty seconds longer before it abruptly stops. The air seems to ring from the grating cacophony of get the fuck out of my way, you stupid shit that just bellowed from his beast of a pickup truck.

When Stiles slams his hand down on said truck, Trevor doesn't even flinch. He's from (the equivalent of) California. Dumb youngin's with no fear of a trip to the hospital are quite common. T decides to rev the engine, making it roar like he's about to bowl the little bastard over.

"You are an advocate for child abuse. Paws off, kiddo." Shouted at him rather calmly, all things considered.

[ This is the location, though he has become more and more anxious about the visit since boarding the tube to travel here. Glancing down at his journal, he rereads the notes that he's gathered on a potential spirit occupying the apartment building just ahead. He's not sure what he'll do if he's possessed (again), though he's created a fail-safe for that...just in case. Scott did NOT appreciate being told to text him later asking for a secret code word, but it's the only way he can make sure someone knows if...things...go horribly awry. He's totally just stalling for time now. ]

Hellooo, [ he mutters under his breath, creeping closer to the building. ] Here ghostie, ghostie, ghostie... I come in peace...

If the driver didn’t look like he was seriously packing heat, Stiles would have marched up to the window and…and…well, he’s not sure. Something brave and foolhardy, for sure. It probably would have ended with his body in the Thames. Stiles doesn’t want his father to have a son who became fish food. So he clamps down on his unwise urges and settles for scowling as fiercely as he is able to (it isn’t very impressive).

“Yeah? You look like an advocate for incest, asshole.”

The engine revving has him a little nervous though, so he quickly retrieves his bicycle from the ground.

"Seriously!?"

Shocked, he stares at Heiji and tries to process this information. Why would anyone punch a guy like this? It makes him angry, he realizes, and so he folds his arms over his chest with a glower.

"How about we show him HE'S not ready for whatever pops up. I'll hold him, you can kick him in the nuts."

Heiji laughed, though he'd been plenty angry himself at the time. Not at the blow, but at what his father had said after he delivered it. "Yeah, I don't think that'd be a good idea. First of all, you'd have to fly all the way over to Japan to do it. Anyhow, all I gotta do is prove him wrong, right?"

Or not care, which was Heiji's approach to Heizou the majority of the time. "Sounds like your dad's worried about you, though. You should tell him it was a lawyer that popped ya in the face!"

TEAM GETTING APOLLO IN TROUBLE, GO.

Malia dodges out of the way when Stiles jumps, frowning at a nearby patron who hushes them both. She gives him a curious look, moving to sit on the edge of the table.

"No? You just weren't paying attention." She slides the offending book over to her, and flips it open.

Hold that thought: Stiles has now pulled out his cellphone again and is looking up how much plane tickets to Japan cost. The answer is...way too much. Dammit. Revenge will have to wait, for now...

"My dad is the sheriff back home with some pretty hefty connections to the FBI. I don't think Apollo would forgive me for landing him in the spotlight like that."

Plus, lying to his father is second nature by now. It's been necessary to protect him.

[ Even though she's not locked solely to her Haunt these days, Aradia still likes returning there when she can. It's soothing, a reminder of better days, and coated in enough echoes of her presence that it helps balance out her more... extreme fluctuations.

It's also full of things she doesn't have to feel bad about breaking, but that's a different story.

She was creeping on one of her old neighbours getting their mail - bills, bills, ad, bills - when Stiles rocked up, which... was a bit unsettling. Two strangers ghost-hunting in her apartment in the same week is unusual. Though at least this one outright says he's coming in peace. ]

Oh dear. [ She's not even sure if he can hear her. We've really got to look into stashing a phone out here.

The neighbour, meanwhile, rolls his eyes at Stiles and walks inside grumbling about bloody tourists. Guess he heard the accent, then. ]

This isn't good. She waves a hand in front of his face, nothing. "Fuck," Nancy swears. "Stiles- Stiles my dear?" She sighs. This isn't good, if he wasn't responding, just muttering things.

"You've got to speak up. C'mon, I've got no idea where you live, and I don't think I can explain this to your grandparents." Let alone why she was out at 2 AM by herself. "D'you wanna spend the rest of the night at my place?" He could even take her bed.

Ah, yes. The incest insult. He's heard it slung so many times it's become something that Trevor now actively enforces the idea of, because, you know, why not.

"You know it, asshole! Daddy and his sister had a baby and it's gonna drag you right down to hell."

He yanks the car into drive, seeing the kid's picking his stupid bike back up. Is he going to run? Is Trevor going to chase down and terrify some hapless high-schooler? We just don't know. (But most likely.)

Said book is dedicated to the topic of spirits and religious exorcisms. He swallows thickly as she pages through it, as if expecting some form of rebuke. The bruise on his face has faded considerably by now, but the outline of it remains enough to remind him of how precarious his place in the Underground is.

“I was totally paying attention!” No, he really wasn’t. “…To my research. Anyway, what are you doing here? Not that I'm like, opposed or anything.”

If Heiji had been in fox form, his ears would have pricked up at once. "No kidding? My old man used to be a cop, back in the day! Probably why he's so damn strict about everything."

Of course, since then he'd retired from public life and lived firmly in the Other Realm as a model citizen. "So he sent you out here to keep ya out of trouble?"

She doesn't judge, in fact, doesn't even really react at all except to express a little confusion. She's never met a ghost, isn't even sure they're real although it wouldn't surprise her if they were. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she looks back at him as she speaks, closing the book.

"I caught your scent outside. I thought I'd see what you were up to."

"Oh no." Take a moment to not be bowled over a second time by this incredible wave of sarcasm. "Get off of me, okay? Why are you even riding around at that speed? It's reckless..." And he really does not look great as he says it either.

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OTA; various locations and times

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CLOSED; Aradia

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