400yearsofsurvival | 3rd Bite // [ Spam ]

3rd Bite // [ Spam ]

[ General / Open ]

[ It's the day after Jerry's release from Zero. He can be found around the Barge. Primarily in the dining hall. In the darkest corners. Enjoying an apple or two. Anyone watching close enough will see that he takes plenty of blood rations, but is never seen consuming them.

Elsewhere, he can be seen just watching. Almost anywhere in the areas open to inmates. Especially the darker areas. Never doing anything more sinister than just watching. ]

[ Stiles ]

[ That morning, Stiles will have his MP3 player returned to him. Broken. The largest pieces embedded into the kid's door. The rest scattered across the floor in front of the door. Scratched into the surface was just the word "Friday." ]

[ Allison ]

[ She also gets something embedded into her door. Three arrows, or at least pieces of arrows, that had been left on the floor of Jerry's room. One of which pinned a drawing to the door. Sketched on the back of the sign Stiles had left on his cell door down in Zero. It was a rough sketch of a ghostly banshee, with at twisted wailing face of too many teeth. The hair was wild, brownish red smears. More than likely blood. The arrow is right through where the creature's heart would be. ]

[ Lydia ]

[ She doesn't receive anything. At least not directly. Just something to boost her paranoia. Periodically, when she's alone, she'll see him. Maybe leaning against the wall at the opposite end of the hall. Or walking past. But any time she'd look again, he'd be gone. Just leaving her with glimpses. To remind her that he was watching. ]

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[Stiles is extra glad that he recently had Barbara up the security of his room in general when he finds what's left of the broken MP3 player embedded in his door. Had Jerry managed to get the door open without a key and and access code, a very loud alarm would have sounded immediately. Enough to scare off any would-be burglars of the normal sort. Enough to bring a lot of people's attention to what was happening should the person decide not to immediately flee.

It takes him a bit to dig the remnants of the device out of the door even as he ignores the word that's carved there. He knows, in his bones, that it's not just a reference to the annoying song Stiles had left on repeat for him. It's a threat.

He doesn't really drop his guard much anymore and hasn't for awhile. Not since the hostile takeover at the sheriff's station and Matt Daehler. He's always waiting for the next bad guy, the next terrible thing, and he always knows it's just a matter of time. Really, there's irony and more than a touch of hypocrisy in Stiles calling Isaac a pessimist.

Stiles discards the pieces into the trash can in his room before heading toward the stairs. He has some research to do in the library.]

[ The entire week passed. The two girls would see Jerry, but apart from maybe being in the dining hall at the same time, the vampire was very vacant from the teenager's life. He was watching, from the to time, but never where Stiles could see.

That is, until the promised day of Friday. He waited and watched until he had a chance to get the kid alone. And that chance presented itself in the laundromat. When at last no one else was around. Sometime after Stiles entered the empty, dead-end space, the door closed with a slam. Leaving the vampire leaning against it. Thumbs in his pockets. Eyes black as night. ]

Hello, Stiles.

[The entire week passed and Lydia is still terrified. Still having nightmares. That's ultimately, what Stiles will hold the grudge over for an eternity. He still hates Peter Hale for the same reasons and it doesn't even matter that much to him that Peter has helped them, that Peter played a role in saving his life. Because nothing Peter Hale does comes without a price tag and it's usually a high one at that. To Stiles, Jerry is just another sociopathic monster and he doubts there's really any hope for the guy's redemption, the same way he doubts there's any hope for Peter's.

And he might care about how judgmental that sounds if the guy's first action on the ship wasn't to attack Lydia and Allison and Mason, but it was so. Fuck him. He tosses some clothes into the washing machine and picks up the book he'd brought with him. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It's an old, somewhat worn copy, but his mom used to read it to him and it has a way of soothing his spiraling emotions in a way that little else does.

He turns at the voice, eyes narrowing at the unwelcome sight of the vampire he'd just been thinking about.]

Jerry. [His tone is flat, tense. Bordering on hostile.]

[ He pushed off the door after a few moments, moving slowly around the room. Around Stiles. Hand lifted, he let clawed fingernails drag over the metal of the machines. He'd been keeping an eye on Stiles. Both personally and over the network.

He didn't know the details. But so far he'd been able to glean, more from behavior than anything, that Stiles was a kid who'd been through hell. He'd seen it often enough. Caused it often enough. The way they buried it, refused to acknowledge it. Much the way Peter Vincent had. But Stiles wasn't that much of a coward. So he doubted direct fear tactics would work. He needed something else. ]

I need you to understand something. Stiles. That little stunt you pulled. Try that, or...really, anything, again. And I'll be paying your little redheaded friend a visit. Without you or your other friend.

[He watches Jerry intently as the other man moves around him, circling like a blood-thirsty vulture. Which really isn't too far off base. He's tense the way that he always is when there's a threat lurking, and he casts the quickest, briefest glance at the door, trying to judge how fast he can get to it before Jerry can get to him.

That thought goes right out the window when Jerry levels a threat at Lydia. And Stiles' eyes darken. His jaw tightens. He's been on the receiving end of threats toward Lydia's life on more than one occasion and there isn't much that pisses him off more, even if it also terrifies him.]

And I'm supposed to believe you're just going to what? Stay away from her if I don't annoy you? Do I look like I was born yesterday?

[ There it was. That fear he'd been after. Under all that anger and attitude. He'd found just the right thread. Could he pull it just right to make the kid unravel?

He shifted around Stiles, his movements unnaturally quick. Shifting from one side to the other, putting himself between Stiles and the door. One hand on the machine he'd been using. Leaning in close. He was smiling. ]

No, Stiles. You look like you been through this before. Or something like it. Which is why...you can't save her. Nothing you can do will stop me. But try anything and I will make you watch. As I drain her. To see if something like her can be turned. If she can't, you will watch her die. If she can? [ His smile spread, turning wicked and cruel ] You'll be the first she feeds from.

[He isn't wrong. The threat is hauntingly familiar, an eerie reminder of that night on the lacrosse field after Peter had attacked Lydia. How he'd later taunted Stiles in the jeep that if Lydia turned, she'd try to kill him twice a month. He doesn't smile back, and his eyes are cold. Hard.

He's been on the Barge long enough to know a few things that maybe Jerry doesn't yet.]

You touch her again, and I'm gonna make it my personal mission in life to end yours in as many painfully slow ways as possible. And if you think I'll be alone? You're deadly wrong. There are people with a lot more powerful than you on this ship who actually have full access to all their abilities. And I'm friends with a hell of a lot of them.

[ His confidence didn't waver. His smile twisting into a sort of mocking pity. They might be stronger, but it would take far more than strength to stop him.

He moved just a little closer. Taking in a breath as if savoring something in the air. It certainly wasn't the laundry room smell of old clothes and laundry soap. ]

I'm going to do far more than touch her, Stiles. She's going to...belong to me.

Oh you mean with your thrall?

[He arches an eyebrow, smirks at him.] I think you're in for a pretty nasty surprise there, buddy.

[He is seething inwardly, and it's a struggle not to let his hands curl into fists at his sides.]

[ Did Stiles mean the scream? Or did he mean the chance that turning may not take with something like what Lydia was? There were plenty of 'surprises' but he was sure he was aware of them all.

But more amusing that Stiles assuming he didn't know, was the unseen struggle. At such close range, he could smell it, as much as the kid tried to hide it. ]

There are plenty of other ways to control a...bean sí.

[Stiles is intentionally being as vague as possible for more reasons than one -- and Jerry's just unintentionally given him confirmation about thrall. He's far from stupid, but he surprised that Jerry put that together. He wonders what the vampire knows about banshees. But he shakes his head.]

A what?

Edited 2014-09-09 16:32 (UTC)

[ He knew the legends and myths as well as Stiles knew the stories of Jerry's kind. Tales of fairies and gnomes and other such sprites. He doubted with the lungs on that girl, that Stiles didn't know. All these kids, trying to keep secrets. And failing so spectacularly. ]

A banshee. They have rules, the same as your other friends. The same...as you.

[ He lifted his hand where Stiles could see. Slicing a sharp finger nail across the pad of his thumb. Drawing out a small line of blood. ]

[They have rules, the same as your other friends. He cocks an eyebrow, dropping the act. There's no point in pretending now.]

I'm fairly certain your kind has some rules of its own, too. And the Barge has rules of its own. So does the universe. Things have a way of maintaining a balance.

[He doesn't react to the sight of the blood even if his heart is beating a bit faster in his chest.]

[ He ran his thumb against his fore and middle finger, spreading the blood, his gaze shifting to his fingers for a moment. But hearing that increased heart rate, it slid back, lingering on Stiles' throat, before drifting back up to his face. The faintest hint of a smile forming on Jerry's lips. ]

Balance. Light, dark. Life, death.

[ He let those bloodied fingers drift closer to Stiles' face. Closer to his mouth. ]

Prey.

[ That hint of a smile stretched into something far more obvious. ]

Predator.

Balance requires both.

Edited 2014-09-09 20:43 (UTC)

[Stiles narrows his eyes as Jerry moves his bloody fingers closer to Stiles' face. It makes him think of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and how in order to turn someone into a vampire they have to drink the vampire's blood and vice versa. He wonders if that's true for Jerry's type of vampire. He tenses at the thought because he sure as hell is not going to be a monster again. And if the guy thinks he's just gonna stick his fingers in Stiles' mouth, he's going to be unhappy with the results.]

I'm aware.

[I've been both, he thinks, though his voice is calm and even when he speaks.]

You know, you might want to get a bandaid. Bleeding all over the place isn't very sanitary.

Balance is neutral. Maybe I'm here to balance against the likes of you.

[ Do-gooders. Always thinking "balance" meant the little innocent creatures got to thrive and overpopulate to their hearts content.

Both hands reached for Stiles. The unbloodied one, going for his shoulder, near to the neck reached out quick, to grip the kid hard. The other, had almost a gentleness to it. Palm resting against Stiles' cheek, bloodied thumb dragging over his lips. That is, if the kid didn't struggle or evade too much. It was really more to get a reaction out of him, than anything else. ]

Maybe.

[He shrugs a shoulder. He knows a little about balance. His whole deal kind of depends on it.

He's not surprised when the vampire grabs him roughly by the shoulder, but his own anger bubbles to the surface and without offering any kind of warning, Stiles bites down hard on the vampire's thumb. How's that for irony? he wonders, one hand shooting out to throw a punch toward the guy's face.]

[ When Stiles bites down, Jerry doesn't so much as flinch. Instead, his face breaks out into a broad smile. Expecting that in a few moments, all the fight would just be gone from the human. But instead, there's a fist flying at his face. He evades it, easily enough. But it means letting go of Stiles.

He looked down at the wound that was slowly healing itself on his thumb. Then back to Stiles. Stiles was human. Why hadn't it worked? ]

[He moves backwards quickly when Jerry lets him go and he spits on the floor, rubbing the sleeve of his flannel shirt over his mouth and fighting back his gag reflex. Gross. He isn't sure what Jerry thinks was going to happen but whatever it is, obviously didn't.]

Starting to get the gist of the picture here, Drac? You don't have all your little vampire tricks on the Barge. Your powers are tamped down.

[ He wiped away the blood on his jeans. Something in his face shifted. A subtle anger that didn't quite manifest into a snarl. But when he spoke, there were four points visible instead of the previous two. ]

I know a few that still work work.

[ He moved forward. Aggressive, but not rushed. And the number of sharp teeth had multiplied again. Overlapping each other, now. ]

[And that is Stiles' cue to get the hell out of dodge as fast as possible. He backs away from Jerry, and lunges toward the door, grabbing the door handle and pulling on it.]

[ At first, it might seem like Jerry was going to just let Stiles get away. His head swiveled to follow the kid's path, but the rest of him was slow to follow. It's when the kid grabs the door handle that Jerry really acts. He's on Stiles' in a heartbeat. A hand on his shoulder. To yank him back away from the door. ]

[He can't scream like Lydia and disable Jerry, but he can yell and he knows his best friend will be there pretty damn fast regardless of where he is on the ship right now. Scott will find him. He might have very little faith in anything else, but he doesn't doubt Scott. He's yanked away from the door and he swings his arm backwards, aiming for Jerry's face with his elbow.]

[ He grabs the arm before it connects, using Stiles' own momentum to get him twisted around. Shoving him hard against one of the machines. ]

[And here he is being manhandled by someone again. Except he knows better than to think this is just for show with Jerry like it always was with Derek. Derek might be a jerk, but under it all he knows they're usually on the same side. Stiles and Jerry are definitely not on the same side at all.]

What exactly do you hope to accomplish here? Cause I have to say -- you are definitely not my type.

Edited (Stiles needed more sarcasm) 2014-09-10 16:07 (UTC)

3rd Bite // [ Spam ]

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[Spam] CW: Blood. Only a tiny bit.

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