entrancelogs | Merry Christmas you filthy animal

Entry tags:

Merry Christmas you filthy animal

Who: (Future)Tom Hanniger, (Future)Isaac Lahey & COMPLETELY OPEN
Where: Literally all over Wonderland
When: Dec 15-24
Rating: R for language, violence, adult themes
Summary: The last time they checked, Wonderland had stopped pulling shenanigans. But that's exactly what they find in the middle of a late night patrol.

THIS IS A CATCH ALL LOG FOR TOM AND ISAAC FOR THE EWAYMAS EVENT PERIOD AND CONTAINS INDIVIDUAL STARTS FOR BOTH CHARACTERS. The starts not doing it for you? Message with what you want and we'll work it out.

Both prose and bracket spam is perfectly welcome!

The Story:

w e l c o m e

It was late when the world shifted. They didn't keep much to normal hours these days, not for years actually, but somewhere in the back of Tom's mind he knew it was midnight. Patrol ran in teams of two, sore and tired bodies treading lightly around the perimeter of the mansion they'd managed to lock down. Heavy boots with thick rubber soles carried them with almost no sound. Worn but trusted armor over their chests and backs to keep them alive.

He didn't speak as he and Isaac moved, knowing the other man so well by this point that making noise was redundant - a look or hand gesture was all they needed to communicate. A quick glance over his shoulder and he nodded to the corner up ahead, they would go as far as the third floor stairwell and double back onto the second. It had been surprisingly quiet that night, a tiny reprieve, but they had grown to know that silence wasn't always good. The pair drew up against the corner and counted. 1...so far so good...2...as quiet as death...3...and around they went.

To be greeted by bright and cheery decorations. Bright lights gave the hall a rosy glow and garlands curled across the walls and ceiling. There had been no momentous pull, no vertigo as the floor fell from under them. It was simply changed. Where the carpet had been scorched and torn it was now pristine. Faded colors back to their original hue. The cold which seemed to forever creep into the mansion was gone in a blink of the eye.

Tom stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Isaac with wide eyes. The corner they'd just turned was the same as the hall ahead of them. Pristine. Cheery. Wrong.

"Are you seeing this?"

"Yeah," he managed to mutter out whilst his fingers traced over one of the garlands. If Tom was seeing it, it meant it was happening... Right? Maybe that's what Stiles thought too when he'd come back broken, when he'd come back absolutely mental. He couldn't get feet to move, choosing to instead let stormy blue eyes traverse the disturbingly new scenery.

Isaac couldn't keep from tilting his head to the side, trying to catch all the sounds, to figure out what the hell was actually happening. "And hearing, and smelling." A pale hand reached out to touch Tom's shoulder as if to make sure he were actually there, when it made contact he gave a gentle squeeze before withdrawing it. Wonderland was too worn out and dead to play tricks on them like this, wasn't it? Maybe the Resistance had finally managed to do something right, managed to heal Wonderland somehow.

They'd been doing patrols long enough to be used to just about anything that could come their way, but neither of the two were prepared for this abrupt change. It was no Jabberwock attack or desperate survivor.

"The hell is going on?"

"Million dollar question." Tom answered, lowering his gun and drawing himself back. Somewhere in the distance he swore he could hear a Christmas carol playing.

"Illusion maybe?" But it was unlikely. There hadn't been an event in years.

Uncomfortable was an understatement for what he and what he was assuming his partner in crime was feeling. That was definitely a Christmas carol playing. "Or mass hysteria from a psychotic break." The humour was dry, sarcastic, and the words just loud enough that Tom would be able to catch them. Fingers idly found the metal of the zip to his black parka and he wasted no time zipping it up – a defensive gesture for comfort more than anything.

"What are you gonna do?" He paused as he looked around them again before adding a quieter question, "What do you want me to do?"

Tom snorted lightly at the empty joke and took a moment to think, tongue pushing up to rest against the back of his front teeth. What did they do, indeed.

"C'mon." A nod towards the stairwell. They had to press on. Just because the place had changed was no reason to abandon their job. If anything it was cause to go faster, further, look at everything and anything that might offer an explanation. And so he started off again, the two moving with a silent stealth only years of practice could produce.

Tom nodded to the stairs and they went down to find the second floor was just the same as the third. Cheery, untouched by the destruction they knew so well as the house had slowly fallen to ruin and ceased to repair itself. He peered down the hall from his position on the stairs, a plan clicking together piece by piece.

"We should split up. Sweep the house." It was breaking the buddy system protocol they'd put in place but this wasn't a normal situation. He retrieved his communicator from a pocket on his vest to make sure it worked and, happy that it did, turned back to his companion.

"I'll take from here down. You go up and call me if you find anything."

Isaac had followed without any hesitation, only coming to a slow stop when Tom had. "Split up?" It sounded a bit incredulous, not on purpose however. Rule #1 for all horror movies: never split up. Then again, unless this was attack of the killer Santa, things were looking pretty not terrible.

He didn't want to split up, that was a bad idea. If someone or something attacked Tom Isaac wouldn't be able to help him unless he called him in time. Teeth grit together as he tensed his jaw and he actually pondered if he should mention that it was not a good idea. The action of checking his communicator was mimicked though and a slow blink later the device was shoved back into one of his many pockets.

"Alright," he answered instead of "Don't you think this is a crappy plan?" What did anything even count as? What exactly were they looking for? Great... "If – If anything happens, anyone attacks you – just..." Isaac's gaze fell to Tom's communicator as he trailed off. "Call me..." They'd already lost so many people, Isaac wouldn't be able to handle losing Tom too.

He didn't wait for an answer, instead he headed to the stairs without a second glance.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Dec 15th - Arrival with Isaac. Then prowling for information. Tom will be covering the basement-3rd floor in a full sweep to see just what the hell is going on. Quiet, but hard to miss, he's wearing full tactical gear and carrying a very big gun. He's trying to wrap his head around just what exactly is going on and will stop to question anyone he sees. Probably at gunpoint. Once the sun is up and he's finished his sweep and caught up with Isaac, he will head for the fifth floor to find his wife. The rest of the day will be spent figuring out what is going on and prowling for information.

Dec 16th - Come morning Tom is still in shock but starting to function again. Tom and Isaac address the network and give the heads up on The Very Bad News as well as sounding off a headcount. Don't like what you've heard? Come and talk to him about it in person. He's also launched into a full scale hunt for any information on the Duchess and Vorpal Sword and can be found at various places around the mansion. He'll also try to organize a meeting for anyone brought back. They need to collaborate. They're a team and they're there for a reason, so let's figure it out and get moving.

Dec 17th-22nd - Still hunting for information and coordinating with his fellow time travelers as well as spending time with his wife and old friends. They're here to keep the future from happening and while Dean is concentrating on supplies and keeping more behinds the scenes, Tom is very much acting as a front man and is easily found in public places like the bar and library. Did you get your butt hurt by Dean? Tom will sooth it. He will answer any and all questions and seems less affected than some of his other comrades. A bit strange? Yes. Absolutely. A person can change a lot in five years...

Dec 23rd - With no information to be found on The Duchess or the sword, spirits are down but he's still available. After a week of hard work he thinks maybe, just maybe, he can relax for a few hours.
In the evening he's pulled some various things and set himself up in the bar (probably much to Dean's dismay). The pool table has been covered with a large piece of chipboard and a game of beerpong set up. There's music, BBQ, poker, can't we have something nice for once? Just for a little while?

Dec 24th - It's Christmas Eve. He's hungover from the night before and spends the first half of the day curled up in bed with Jo. They have some things he needs to talk to her about and hasn't quite been able to bring himself to say them. The Jabberwock isn't the only darkness on their horizon but not everything can be avoided. There's no way to tell how long they'll be there and he just wants one nice Christmas. A big dinner, quiet sorrow, and the faces of so many fallen friends.

He, like all his comrades, will disappear at Midnight.

Edited 2013-12-15 22:51 (UTC)

There is something very different about this Isaac from the future, maybe it's the hair that seems to be a great deal longer, or maybe it's the dark clothes that seem to conceal a plethora of hidden weapons. Whatever it is, it's a no brainer that this is not the Isaac you are looking for.

December 15th- Step 1: Confusion ;; Isaac will be a ~~little~~ freaked out but despite this he doesn't look as frazzled as he feels. Instead, he'll be wearing a look very similar to the anti-social and offputting ones resident Derek Hale often wears to scare people away. Later on in the day after attacking and nearly killing Allison Argent. This will lead him to seek Dean out, who will manage to get him to get some sort of grip. He's going to end up becoming even more invisible an making one of the rooms home base – spending a good couple hours spray painting wards, devil traps and decking the place out with salt.

December 16th- Step 2: Determination ;; He seems a bit better than he did the previous day, and during the early morning he's gonna make a network post with his good buddy Tom, informing the general populace of just exactly what is up and what they need to do to sort things out. Also trying to find Wonderland locals to grill for info. He seems to have more purpose than he did the other day, and will actually give people the time of day if they talk to him. He can be found lurking around the areas with Tom.

December 17th- Step 3: Isolation ;; He finally seems to be comfortable giving Tom space, or maybe it's something more – whatever it is, he's going to be spending his time ruthlessly searching the Library for any form of information they can use in the future, then he'll take upon himself to try to search Wonderland head to toe, wondering far off from the safety of the general population.

December 18-21- Step 4: Anger ;; Early in the mornings he can be found outside jogging, and exercising, he seems to be burning off stress and agitation – any of you brave enough to spar with him? He might get overly aggressive with it, but can you blame him, he doesn't seem all there. Later on during the day, he's going to go back to nonstop searching, only to come back worn out but in an oddly better mood, he'll even talk to people.

December 22- Step 5: Bargaining ;; Isaac is going to try the vendors just like Dean did, when that comes up empty, he's going seem to give up, instead choosing to spend time with his friends and his pack. Anyone looking for him will find him around Stiles' gameroom or the Bar.

December 23- Step 6: Depression ;; The resident werepoodle will be spending most of his time at the Bar with his fellow future buddies, he's drinking something purple that smells really bizarre, is that even alcohol? Where did he get that? Regardless it seems to be giving him a pretty strong buzz. Merry freakin' Christmas, right?

December 24- Step 7: Acceptance ;; Isaac is going to spend all day lurking by Allison and Scott. Really, they have a lot to talk about, a lot he's been putting off, and if he gets to spend Christmas with them, that's all that matters, maybe it's not so bad.

Alas, he'll be gone at midnight.

Edited 2013-12-15 23:25 (UTC)

The last two days hadn't been kind to anyone who found themselves missing friends or loved ones. It was too many people to be missing at once, impossible, in Jo's eyes, for everyone to have taken a trip home at the exact same time. Despite how horrifying past events had been, violent and cruel or otherwise humiliating, nothing cut quite as deep as the feeling that someone you cared about was out of your reach and there was nothing you could do about it -- in her case, several someones.

The first day, she had searched. Tirelessly, determined. It wasn't until evening that she had found herself forced to accept that wherever they had gone, they wouldn't be returning of their own free will. It was up to Wonderland's whims, as usual. Maybe Wonderland would be kind-- their things had been left behind which meant a return was inevitable, but the waiting would be hard. Painful. It would be a week of worrying, at best; a week of wondering what might be happening to them while they were away, a week of hating the fact that there was nothing she could to to help. All she could do was wait.

Patience had never been one of her strong suits.

It was early morning when she finally managed to rest, having been propped up on the bed fully-dressed with a book she'd found herself unable to concentrate on, too busy turning over the few facts she had related to the disappearances in her head. It didn't feel right, trying to sleep there when the bed's other occupant was missing, but there was nowhere else she wanted to be. Though willingly settling in to sleep without Tom seemed like an impossibility, she passed out around dawn, her index finger still marking her place as the book fell to rest beside her.

Come six or so Tom had finished his sweep of the lower half of the house and regrouped with Isaac in the lobby. It was an odd hour of the day and not much had been stirring monster or otherwise. The mansion seemed in once piece, and better than that, it felt happy. Christmas decorations were elaborately laid across anything that might sustain ropes of tinsel and ribbon and a cheery mix of lighting and Christmas carols were floating through the air.

It was creeping him out.

But nothing other than the obvious felt out of place and by the time the sun had risen he'd had enough. He needed an hour to sleep and start again. To find anyone who might know what was going on, or anyone from his particular place in the world's timeline. He'd checked him communicator and seen the calender. He'd seen the year and quickly placed himself.

It was the past. Five years in the past and what was worse was that he remembered. The thin roots peeking up here and there. The little breaks in the air. He remembered. This had been the beginning of it all. The first little clues of what was coming. Looking back he wondered if it was signs of strain. Perhaps Wonderland itself had been tying the beast down somewhere and was beginning to crack under the pressure.

Not to mention his own troubles. He knew what was in store for himself. And that it would happen soon.

But he couldn't think about that right now. Sleep. He just needed a minute or two.

And so he dragged himself back up five flights to stairs, gun still at the ready, nerves still on end, until he got to him room. Tom had to pause for a moment as he grasped the door. Something in the bottom of his stomach knotting at the uncertainty of what he would find, but he'd come this far and one more weird thing wouldn't make much of a difference right now. He'd been awake for almost twenty four hours at this point. His second and third and fourth winds were gone. So he turned the doorknob and quietly entered.

It closed with a soft click behind him and he had to take another moment to drink it all in. His room, exactly as it had been half a decade ago. His hoodie (the one he was wearing now) on the back of his chair. His girlfriend asleep on the bed. And oh was she a sight for sore eyes.

Tom laid his gun on the table and began to unclip his body armor as quietly as he could. With any luck he'd be able to get undressed and into bed without disturbing Jo.

A message appears in the mirror of the room Isaac is currently spray painting wards, written in red ink, and standing on the other side is Stiles' mirror, looking concerned.

Are you okay?

For a moment, it seemed almost like he might be met with success, but the minute he reached to pull the bedcovers back, she began to stir. She'd never been a heavy sleeper, even less so when she was worried or anxious about something. Ever alert, even in sleep, tensed and ready to react to any change in her immediate vicinity. It was a good reflex for a hunter to have, and she had always guessed that it was all tied to growing up heading all the stories and knowing about what was out there in the night.

There was a brief moment of panic as she opened her eyes, taking half a second to adjust and realize that no, there was no immediate danger, but that just as she had been awakened by his sudden absence two nights previous, now--

"You're back!"

She felt suddenly alert, the fog of sleep falling away all at once as she pushed herself up on one hand, getting to her knees so that she could put both arms around his neck and hug him tightly, feeling the tension of the last two days begin to ease at last now that she could touch him, inhale the distinct scent of his skin and not have to worry that he was trapped somewhere or maybe, just maybe, gone for good. The latter had seemed unlikely, but it had nagged at her all the same.

"Tom... what happened?"

Hearing Isaac and Tom on the network was a decidedly relieving sensation for Stiles, who'd spent much of the day answering questions (to a point) that the past Derek asked of him and staving off panic attacks until he managed to push away from him for a little while. It wasn't what he thought it was; he'd originally thought maybe the mansion had just granted them a present again, like it was using the last vestiges of its magic to give them a happy Christmas before, you know, they all starved to death.

But after a day here, the harsh reality had been a slap in the face. So Stiles went back to avoiding people, to trying to keep whatever's been bubbling under the surface since his fifth death down and muffling hazy nightmares into pillows. Despite the new atmosphere, this place is practically torture; having to see the ghosts he normally only imagined was worse than starving in the mansion alone.

But Isaac--Isaac's from home. Isaac and Tom both are safe and known. He thinks he might be hallucinating their voices at first, and he replays the network message two or three times before he pushes himself up out of the bunkbed and makes his way out into the hallway, Derek's old jacket still hanging off of his frame, until he spots the familiar head of curly hair and makes his way towards him, greeting him with a soft, "You're here too."

This must be just as hard for Isaac as it's been for Stiles--he recalls Allison's body, beside Derek's, and heaves in a deep breath to bottle the feelings down.

At first Isaac doesn't see it, he's a man on a mission, but the movement in the mirror startles him into giving it his attention, spray paint dropped to the floor so he can draw a knife almost on instinct alone.

What Miles might not expect is the look of odd comfort that Isaac gives him when he realizes who exactly is watching him. And it's not long before Isaac has a black marker and seems to be exceptionally practiced at writing backwards for the Mirror.

No. Not really.

[ Miles frowns and looks through the mirror as well as he can into the room. It's a fucking mess in there--hell, on the Real Side--and he can't even find his Real, who's been missing for a couple days. Obviously he's back now, considering Isaac disappeared at the same time, but seriously, which one was he more worried about. ]

Where did you go? Was worried.

[ And for that matter, what the hell's going on over there? Some of the mirrors have talked with disgust about Christmas. ]

Edited 2013-12-16 00:20 (UTC)

He froze the second she moved, springing up as though she were in immediate trouble. "Shh-" He held up one hand in a defensive position. Don't freak out. Everything is okay.

"I.. uh." That was a difficult question to answer. "I don't know."

Truthful enough. He looked her over and decided that it was still worth trying to get into the bed, worn and filthy as he was, falling into her arms around his neck with silent relief. So glad to see a friendly, healthy face. She was upset and worried, that much he could put together, but he wasn't sure why. Had he...the other he...gone somewhere? His personal memory had nothing in the way of information for this particular scenario. He'd never come back to the past before. Just being here was changing his future.

Tom settled in and curled an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his chest with ease and familiarity. With his right arm. Completely healed. Even in the dim light he was more powerful, in a perfect physical condition he hadn't previously experienced, sculpted chest and shoulder sporting silvery scars from so long ago.

"How long have I been gone?"

He'd been answering questions on the network and in person all day, but it's getting to the point where he's social'd out and a fight with Tom later, he's gone to letting Tom answer most of the questions. He should have told Tom, he should have, he knows better and now he's mad at him. Needing air, he heads out only to run into Stiles. Stiles who makes his heart squeeze and feel cold at the same time... Stiles who lost Derek and Allison too... Stiles who lost his mind.

He nods, offering out a small and quiet "Yeah." Mimicking Stiles' softness without even really noticing. Stiles is one of his oldest friends and he'd been Derek's husband when Derek was still with them, both of those things makes him want to protect the other male. "How are you doing?" It's oddly sympathetic for someone who's otherwise been so angry and hateful to those around him. Tired blue eyes watch Stiles for a long moment, assessing - trying to decide how badly he's taking it. Isaac sure as hell isn't doing too well.

The hand that reaches out to rest on the shorter male's shoulder is almost automatic, it's the most he does these days to comfort people. From the look of him, Stiles was seeing ghosts too. It's angering to know Wonderland is still fucking around with him even after all it's done to him. Losing Derek, Allison -- Scott becoming that shell of a person. He hates Wonderland, he does.

He feels he owes Stiles the same amount he does Tom -- but there's something lighter about it, Stiles never really asks for much and even if he's one of the reasons everything is so fucked, Isaac cannot blame him. Not at all.

[ scott had gotten a text.

he didn't say much about it, said that stiles needed to talk to him now and that he'd be right back, don't go anywhere. allison had agreed to it, but told him to tell her exactly what was going on when he got there. to tell her what was happening. lydia said something about getting a bottle of wine from the closet and taking some Quality Lydia Time in the bathroom, and allison had tried to sit still.

she had. really.

but this is allison argent and that hardly happens. so what she ends up doing is heading out into the halls, shooting scott a text saying she was on her way over, and going. what she doesn't expect to see is a figure approaching from down the hall right after she steps out of her room. a figure that she swears she recognizes, the same slant to his shoulders and height and hair (though...is it longer? how-) ]

Isaac? Isaac! [ before she even has time to question what's happening, how it's happening, she's running after him. ]

[Despite using most of his brain power to look up any and all relevant information in the Duchess and the Vorpal Sword, Tom has to rest sometimes. There are people he wants to see, old relics of the ghosts he is now so familiar with, whole versions of the shells he marches along side. People who have not yet found themselves, friends he's not yet made.

He thinks Adam is one of those. A brother in his time now. A comrade he'd trust to watch his back. A close friend. Family, even.

But the time shift changes all that. Still, he's curious.

And so he wanders to the Winchester Jr.'s door and taps lightly with the butt end of a beer bottle.]

You in there, snuggles?

[ Isaac follows his gaze, looking behind him for a moment. The smell of spray paint is making him a little sick, but he's gotten most of the angel wards and other wards up. The Devil's trap on the wall in front of the door was the first thing to go up, he sure as fuck isn't dealing with demons. Weapons are strewn across the floor as well as empty spray paint cans. Really, it looks like a madman has taken up residence there.

When he looks back at the new message, he pauses with obvious confusion.]

I didn't go anywhere. This is different.

[ There's a moment before he writes something else. ]

Are you okay?

She let him take his place as he always did, but that didn't mean she didn't notice. He had changed, a thousand tiny things that struck her as foreign and unfamiliar, too much for only two days' time. She frowned, her eyebrows pulling close together as she looked at him in question, searching his eyes for a moment before directing her attention to his shoulder.

It was no longer the raw and angry red of a newly formed scar, but pale and white and decidedly old, long-healed and no longer requiring caution. She lightly traced over it with her fingers before letting them trail downwards to his scarred chest, feeling her stomach seize up as mere touch brought vivid memories of Halloween flooding back. That, at least, wasn't unusual. In fact, at the moment, those memories were the most familiar thing in the room.

She didn't pull away, but looked up at him again, uncertain. "Two days," she remarked softly. "You've changed. ... did you go home?"

That might explain why he looked different, older without having truly aged.

[ He knows that voice, it stops him dead in his tracks and when he turns to her, he feels a chill colder than the one that the freezer had given him wash over his body.

Colour drains from his face as he stares at her. She's getting closer to him. She's getting closer to him. She can't be real. There is no way this is real. She didn't come back. He immediately takes a step backwards away from her, then another. He's chanting a word -- pleading it, quiet and desperate. ] No, no, no, no. [ He sounds terrified, like he's facing his father again. Like he's locked in that closet again, getting ready to bang on the door with all his might. ] Stay away from me. Don't get near me. [ Isaac sucks a shaky breath in, trying to will his terror away. He's losing it, he's lost it. Just like Stiles.

No, no, no, no, he just needs to pretend she's not there -- because she isn't. He's just tired, he needs sleep. ] Please. No. Not her, not this. Not her. [ He needs to turn around, run and get out of there. He can't though -- he can't get his legs to work anymore, all he can do is stare at her, horrified.

He brings a hand up to his face, rubbing at his forehead before sifting fingers through long, messy curls. ] It's not real. It's not. I couldn't fix it. I fucked up. Not her... Why her? No, no you're not real, get away from me.

Edited (added a bit more whoops) 2013-12-16 01:11 (UTC)

[ the worst part is that her relief, her excitement that isaac is back and isaac is okay and he's not dead and he didn't go home and isaac is still here is so overwhelming, she doesn't notice anything's wrong. not at first, at least. not until she gets close enough to hear what he's muttering, pleading, and even then all is does is dampen the excitement just a little bit. ]

Isaac, hey- [ she gives him a smile when she gets close enough, reaching out to try and grab his arm, to try and pull him close because the need to feel him here is overwhelming her a little. but then she hears that, hears that you're not real get away from me and the smile drops. she does reach out, then, touching his arm, trying to get him to look at her, his state finally starting to set in. ] What are you talking about? I'm right here. Isaac.

Tom faltered immediately. "No.." The answer slipping out before he could think better of it. He wasn't sure what was happening but there was no telling what talking about it would do.

Then again, maybe that was the point.

But two days? How could he- What- Definitely not.

He knew she would figure out something was different but was hoping to wait until he'd had a nap to deal with it. There was no way of hiding, no way to pretend nothing was going on, but he also knew how crazy he'd sound just blurting out the truth.

Which was exactly what he ended up doing as he watched her trace over his scars.

How could he lie to her?

"It's an event, I think." He laughed. It sounded so absurd after so many years of radio silence from Wonderland's magic. Half of him wants to shrug it off and roll over. Just let him sleep and he'll process the data when he can form coherent thoughts. But he knows Jo. And he knows that won't happen.

"Or maybe not. Something more than that. I don't really know."

A pause.

"This is going to sound crazy..."

"I figured out that much when the mansion decorated itself," she pointed out. She loosened her hold on him, reluctant to pull away when she'd just spent the last two days worried sick and missing him to the point where it ached, but this was distinctly not right, and her hunter instincts were warning her that she had already let too much slip by getting as comfortable as she had.

She pressed her lips together, giving a single shake of her head. "Tom. We've talked about so much 'crazy' that the bar is set pretty damn high." Personal issues aside, they had been living in Wonderland for months now. Crazy was just another word for 'status quo' here.

"Talk to me."

No! Don't touch me! [ The words are shouted, louder, painfully loud for someone who is normally so quiet. His arm is jerked away from her touch like it's burned him. ] Stop it. Stop it! [ Another step backwards is all he can force his body to do. ] Leave me alone. I saw it, you're not. You're not!

[ He has to blink back the stinging wetness at his eyes, swallow hard and then press the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to force the image away. When he withdraws his hands she's still there - still fucking there. Isaac can't contain the whimper before his hands rub through his curls again, only stopping to tug at them. He's fucked, he's utterly and completely fucked. ] I saw it. I saw it, no.

He shrugs in response to the question, mouth twitching up in a tiny, bitter smile. It's hard to just say "I'm okay" nowadays--there are good and bad days. Days like after Derek died, after Scott just cracked, when he knew he was going to go back and threw himself at the Jabberwocky just to get a couple of days where he didn't have to exist. It didn't make him feel any better; it brought him back screaming and seeing visions. Not his brightest decision, certainly, but Stiles just--he stopped caring. He stopped being cautious. If he died, who cared anymore? He was just going to come back, and maybe it would be some goddamn relief. "This is supposed to be some kind of opportunity, right?"

That's about all the optimism he can manage, and very indicative of his mood.

Stiles looks Isaac over for a second. He's kind of--he just gets it. He knows. He watched what happened to Scott and tried everything he could to stop it, because when their beacon of hope disappears it leaves them all stumbling. Allison and Derek dying--finding their remains, together, had been one of the most heartbreaking sights of Stiles' life, and he remembers throwing up afterwards, remembers the panic, remembers just shutting down.

So he picks up his hand and taps Isaac's on his shoulder once, like it's solidarity. "'m glad you're here too, dude."

[ ...well that's weird.

One, the concern. As touched as Miles is--no, really, he's really touched--he was used to Isaac avoiding him. For some reason. Obviously something's not quite right. ]

You left with the Real too. Event?

[ Aww, Isaac, shucks, you're so sweet. ♥ ]

Yes. Nothing weird happening here. Why?

That...was fair enough.

He gave a half smile and nodded, gathering his words. This wasn't a situation he was prepared for. Seeing her wasn't a situation he was prepared for. Dean had been right, this was. Weird. She was Jo through and through but not his Jo. Not yet.

"I think I'm from the future. Or- we've been pulled back into the past." He was pretty sure at least. That had been the general consensus by the time he'd given in to the need for sleep. A need he felt threatening to pull him into the pillows.

But he'd started talking so there was no way he'd get any sleep, now.

"Think about it. Look at me." He gestured to the scars on his shoulder.

"This just happened, right? To you. It's been five years for me."

[ Isaac had already spoke to Tom about what was going on, they've compared information -- and Isaac's communicator had indeed proven to show him a date from the past.

Eyebrows knit together at the look Miles pulls before writing again. ]

I don't kno [Have some scribbles here]
Maybe. I don't know how but maybe.

Good...

You're still stuck over there. [ He actually seems bothered by that if the frown on his face is anything to go by. ]

Because I wanted to be sure you were okay?

[ ...huh. Miles underlines "still" and draws a question mark next to it. ]

That's unusual, what made me earn the pleasure? :)

[ He couldn't give two shits about whether his real was back or not. Whatever event was going on didn't involve Miles, and that should be the limit of his interest in it, but... ]

what are you afraid of?

[ And he makes a small gesture to the devil's traps. ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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Merry Christmas you filthy animal

TOM HANNIGER

ISAAC LAHEY

12/15, early morning.

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manic laughter [ december 15th/mirror text ]

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and now for the actual thread (december 16th!)

dear god castiel, michael, gabriel where r u pls smite isaac

you suggested this (also lol action spam switch)

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dec. 15th c:

12/17 - Adam - Evening

no one hates Isaac Lahey like I do.

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Re: dec. 15th c:

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So true.

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gurgles

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