400yearsofsurvival | 7th Bite // Mild CW for lasting fire damage and injuries

[ Spam ] // [ Open ]

[ He could finally leave the infirmary. Whether his "doctor" wanted it or not. He had strength enough to walk. The most severe of the damage had been healed. It would have gone faster if anyone had allowed him to feed properly. But he doubted that overgrown boy scout watching over him would have allowed it. His extremities were still heavily bandaged. As was his neck and chest. His face was more or less healed, faint scaring that would fade with time. Frustratingly, though, his hair was a bit slower than the rest of him. His eyebrows were more or less grown back, but the rest of his head was slow to catch up. Leaving him with only the roughest cover of hair.

He was surprised to find his cabin in at least semi-working order. That was perhaps more unexpected than having been dragged out of the fire. And he, thankfully, found he still had clothes.

Should anyone working on the repairs of his cabin try to come in that day, they would be greeted with a rather nasty surprise. Mostly due to who the work crew was. He had no intent of playing nice with the perpetrators of this. Specifically Dean.

Later, he could be found about the ship. He's not moving nearly as smooth as he used to. And he's keeping to the shadows more than usual. And for the first time since his arrival, he can be found in the dining hall actually consuming his blood rations. Don't expect him to be in the best of moods. ]

[ Spam ] // [ Stiles (and a bit for Lydia) ]

[ He was starting to feel like himself again. And that meant resuming what he'd been doing before his little accident. Keeping an eye on those infuriating teenagers. Little did he know how much he might resemble something from their past, as he allowed them only the smallest glimpses of him. With his burned and bandaged hands and arms. Lydia would see little more than shadows. But with Stiles, he allowed himself to be seen. Watching.

That evening, though, he stopped watching. He found Stiles in the dining hall. He pulled out a chair opposite the kid and sat down. Calmly eating an apple. Staring hard. ]

((SEVERE CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THREADS. Specifically with Stephen: biting, blood, massive dubcon behavior))

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[That's the whole point, Jerry. He wants to disgust you. He makes special effort to bug the people that he really hates.]

Comes in handy sometimes.

[He gives Jerry a knowing look and pops a meatball into his mouth.]

[ He gave a small nod, as if that answer satisfied what he'd come to ask. He set down his barely touched apple and got to his feet. Moving as if to leave. But really, he just rounded the back of Stiles' chair. One bandaged hand clapped on the kid's shoulder. The other planting on the table. Leaning in close. ]

If anyone uses it on my door again, or tries to hurt me with it the way Dean did, it's your throat on the line.

[It takes everything within him not to flinch when Jerry's hand comes down on his shoulder. He's been threatened before. Mostly by people with the last name Hale. But he wasn't afraid of Cora, and he'd gotten past his fear of Derek, and he just kept a wary eye on Peter. But Jerry? Jerry was a different story all together. Still. He wasn't going to cower, either.]

Then maybe you oughta start utilizing the blood bags provided and keep your teeth to yourself, buddy.

[ He smiled. The teeth in question--the fangs, specifically--mere inches from Stiles' face. The fingers on the kid's shoulder dug in, right above the collar bone. ]

Or I could just turn you, and see how you like being trapped.

[He grits his teeth against the way Jerry's fingers and nails dig into his skin.]

The difference between us is, I'd want someone to trap me so I didn't hurt anyone. But you? [He turns his head to look at him.]

You're just a monster.

[ He laughed. A low, dark chuckle. Before his lips pressed together with a look of almost pity. He leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. ]

It's not like your little werewolf friends. You don't get a choice, Stiles. You'll love being a monster like me.

[He tenses, finally pulling away and turning hate-filled eyes on the vampire.]

You think I haven't already made contingency plans for that?

[ He moved the hand to the back of Stiles' chair. Staying just as close. Grinning, teeth right at eye level. ]

You don't have one. For this, guy.

[And this is where Stiles smirks.]

You do know who my inmate is, right?

[ It's not a connection he'd considered. But that was all the clue he needed, given who's hands the mountain ash ended up in. ]

Dean.

[He sees it: the moment of realization on Jerry's face and he feels a fleeting satisfaction. Without warning, he shoves the chair back from the table and rises to his feet. And then, in a dark, mocking tone:]

Still certain I don't have contingency plans...guy?

[ He stood up as Stiles pushed back, letting go of the chair. And it was his turn to look so very satisfied. Because there was so much Stiles didn't know. ]

For this, you don't. Guy.

[ But he his own contingency plans to keep anyone he turned away from the hunter. ]

[There's a lot Stiles doesn't know. But there's a lot Jerry doesn't know, too.]

Then I guess we'll wait and see, won't we?

[ But Jerry still had far more experience. ]

Looking forward to it.

[True. Fortunately for Stiles, he has a lot of friends and allies. He just cocks an eyebrow at Jerry's response, then he picks up his tray and heads away from the man.]

[ Friends and allies. Jerry had exactly none. He watched Stiles walk away. Giving an almost friendly wave eventually. ]

Catch you later, then.