( open + some closed prompts )

[figureitout]

CHARACTERS: stiles and YOU, stiles and a bunch of ppl
DATE: between march 17 and march 23
WARNINGS: injuries, panic attacks, more or less zombies, idk man i'll update
SUMMARY: peter's infection finally reaches the more serious symptoms, and like any well-adjusted individual, he runs away after lashing out unintentionally. stiles deals with the injuries and tries to mobilize a search for him (mostly by doing the searching all by himself, good job??)

i. i'm frozen to the bones — university

[ it isn't a common sight, to see Stiles out and about so early in the morning it can barely be called morning — sure, he makes a point to be at the station early enough, but never without complaining about the time and increasingly desperate attempts to drown himself in coffee. now, though, he looks wide awake, despite the heavy circles around his eyes.

no, the sight isn't a common one, but it certainly is alarming, especially when one pays careful attention to the way each step he takes is somehow less steady than the one before it, the way he cradles his arm at an awkward angle and winces when moving forward jostles it slightly. still, he isn't stopping — he makes his way across the university grounds, then to where the cars are parked...

... yep, you guessed it, he's totally going to drive his car like this, with one arm out of commission and looking like he might actually clock out any minute now.

someone.

should probably stop him. ]

ii. i'm a million miles from home — random city location of your choosing

[ he's no longer sure how long he's been walking around. hours, days — he's trying not to count how long it's been since his ill-adviced decision to try and tranquilize a sleeping super-powered individual, seriously, just how did he think that was a good plan?

(he didn't, that's what. he didn't think, because he had no plan. none... just like he doesn't have a plan now. for someone whose strength tends to be coming up with plans, he sure seems to be lacking in that department lately.)

the magitek is of no help, because what good is a locating system built in when you can just leave your magical jewelry in a lab, right? right. quietly, he mutters, ] You just had to remember that too, didn't you? Great.

[ as if talking to himself in the place of the one he actually wants to talk to, making dry comments about the situation, made it all somehow easier to deal with. (spoilers: it doesn't.)

after another block, Stiles finally has to sit down, finding the nearest bench that's empty. it's cold, but he doesn't care, curling in on himself as he leans his head in his hands. this... isn't working. he has no plan, no idea where to look for Peter, no clues to follow. nothing. it's like he's disappeared into thin air and all he can do is walk around the city until his legs give out under him, until the curfew once again forces him back inside — back to the dorms, to his room, in the faint hope that maybe, maybe this time it won't be empty.

breathe, he reminds himself. it'll be fine. it's fine. it's — ]

Fine. It's fine. I'm fine, [ he whispers out loud, his voice brittle, barely there.

(spoilers: he's not.) ]

iii. wildcard!!

[ feel free to wildcard me with whatever strikes your fancy!! or poke me over at celen for a closed starter! all closed starters will be their own comments, just bear with me as i write them up...

also, the explanation (and plotting post) for "how not to deal with being infected: a guide by peter parker" is here in case none of this is making any sense! ]

Comments

[figureitout]

I think so. This isn't the same model I've got back home, but —

[ he shrugs. ] We'll see. [ he sure hopes he can, anyway... after some fiddling, he calls out, ] Try it!

[wyvil]

[Wylan is not 100% sure what he should be trying, but turning the key seems like the best start. He turns the key, hoping that it's enough to start the car again.]

[figureitout]

[ the engine coughs once, twice... and starts. ]

Oh my god, it actually worked! [ Stiles??? maybe have more faith in your own plans... ]

[wyvil]

You sound so surprised...

[Wylan almost laughs, because really, he had every reason to doubt their ability to succeed, but he figured Stiles was more confident in their plan. In Wylan's mind, leaders had to be confident, it was almost part of the magic that made crazy plans work out.]</small.

[figureitout]

Um — no?

[ there's one crucial mistake Wylan is making in his assumption: that Stiles is a leader of any kind. which means his trust in himself and his abilities depends entirely on the day and the alignment of the planets...

well. maybe in this case he was at least 78% sure he could do this, mainly because he's so used to fixing his own jeep back home. ]

I was 110% confident about this. Totally. [ he's also totally convincing?? right.... ]

[wyvil]

[He's definitely not convincing, but Wylan will give him the benefit of the doubt. He slides out of the drivers seat, exiting the Jeep.]

Does this happen often? [Wylan sounds almost amused as he asks the question.]

[figureitout]

Kinda. [ Stiles winces, scratches the back of his neck. ] It's this particular model, it gets this thing with the engine... at least mine back home does. I guess this does the same thing.

[ it begs the question why, out of all the cars he could have gotten for himself here in Woodhurst he decided to go with this particular one... but the truth is, even if it's not the car that used to belong to his mother, it's still something. a reminder of home, and after nearly a year of being gone, he'll take what reminders he can. ]

[wyvil]

Why not look for something more reliable?

[A tank. Wylan is definitely thinking of a tank, the most reliable vehicle he's ever ridden in.]

[figureitout]

[ what do you mean by more reliable, he means to ask, or perhaps respond with something akin to I guess I could get something that's not a jeep. instead, what comes out is, ]

My jeep used to belong to my mom. [ he pauses after, clearly surprised at himself, that the explanation he gave was the real one instead of something to hide the truth. perhaps it's easier to say the truth when it's to someone he doesn't really know. ]

[wyvil]

[Wylan's the right person to tell. He nods in understanding, knowing what it's like to hold on to something, even something seen as useless, as a way to hold on to a lost family member. Music had been his connection to his mother, a connection he didn't lose even when she was taken away from him as a child leaving him with his father who would have preferred that he expended his energies elsewhere. It may have been one of the few ways he stood up to his father, insisting on the importance of what his mother had taught him.

Wylan may have been reunited with his mom recently, but he had years where music was his only connection to her, his way of keeping her memory alive.]

She must have taken very good care of it, to be able to pass it onto you.

[figureitout]

[ it's all he needs to hear, the quiet understanding in Wylan's tone, to realize that he knows how it feels — the significance of having something to hold on to, a relic, a memento of sorts, when the person is already gone.

he offers a small, sad smile that's gone almost as soon as it appears. ] ... yeah. She did.