ataraxionlogs | I can't seem to kill my assailants

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I can't seem to kill my assailants

CHARACTERS: Stiles & Allison
LOCATION: ~~your place or mine~~ Allison's room maybe
WARNINGS: ... nothing?
SUMMARY: So with all of the intrigue~ and different sides trying to convince the people of Tranquility that they are the side that should be trusted, Allison and Stiles meet up to discuss their options.
NOTES: shortly after the Gunnery meeting

Everyone on the ship has been in an uproar lately from the newest mysterious benefactor to show up on their radar claiming to have their best interests in mind, and while Stiles has more or less kept out of these discussions on the network about what to do or who to trust, that doesn't mean he hasn't been listening.

He and Allison are supposed to be meeting up for what Stiles had jokingly referred to as their 'Grandma Knitting Circle' but which was really less about actually finishing a project (especially since Stiles kept routinely unraveling his own) than it was taking a breather from everything and everybody, talking about something other than whether or not they were going to die that week and how.

Stiles hates to break their own unspoken rule, but after about five minutes of trying to pick out a stubborn knot in his yarn he exhales noisily, sets the yarn back down in his lap and says, "Why do I feel like whichever way this ship decides to fall on the issue, we're going to get screwed over anyway?"

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Allison's sat there, herself, needles in hand but not really paying attention to what she's doing. The meeting's still sitting on her mind, so when Stiles brings it up she's actually grateful -- Lydia's probably the only other person she'd feel comfortable discussing this with, but Lydia no longer has the memory to have the full picture of what's going on. Granted, neither does Allison, but she's got more jumps under her belt. Setting down her work, Allison lets out a sigh of her own, leaning back on her bed on one hand, running the other through her hair.

"Probably because that's what's going to happen. We're damned if we do and damned if we don't. Especially if we don't, because one of these factions may not be lying to us."

"And that's assuming that everyone actually plays by the rules of whatever decision gets a majority vote." Stiles says with a tired sigh, leaning back against the side of her bed from his spot on the floor, head bumping with her knee momentarily as he stretches out his neck.

"Which we know they won't, because most people are petty, selfish monsters." He reaches up to run a hand through his hair. "Myself falling under that category as well, admittedly." Which was how he knew it was going to happen. Because even if the vote landed in his favor, there was bound to be at least someone who wasn't so happy with the results, Stiles had been on this ship long enough to know that much.

"You're not a monster," she says, nudging his head gently with her knee. "We know actual monsters, remember?" And she's not talking about the werewolves. Well, maybe some of the werewolves. It's meant to be rhetorical, and she continues on.

"Considering what that one guy said, I don't think he's going to be satisfied with anything, and there were people who agree with him. So we can probably count them out of playing along with whatever rule." She reaches up and rubs at an eye with the heel of her hand.

"What do we do, Stiles?"

"Yeah." Stiles huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. "Unfortunately most of the real monsters aren't as easy to identify by just looking for claws or fangs. Otherwise we could make a decision real easy by just looking. What I'd like to do is make it a rule for all bad guys to wear a sign telling us as much, but somehow I don't think that would fly with the actual bad guys."

It was nice to dream, at least. One of the only nice dreams he had left.

He pushes himself up by his hands to sit next to Allison, scowling as he remembers that whole mess of conversation and his firm decision to stay out of it and quietly judge everyone else. Well. Everyone but Allison. "That asshole that was threatening you?"

Or not Allison specifically, but he'd been talking to her at the time, so Stiles basically took it as a declaration of war regardless. Erik hadn't won any friends with that, at least. "The same thing we do every night, Pinky." Stiles says with a hum and a shimmy. "We'll mock the assholes who talk too loud behind their back and figure out a way to save everyone's butts.

"Even if Han Solo's is no longer among their number."

She laughs, a little, and gives him a look. "Wait, why am I the stupid mouse?"

Granted, she's not as smart as he or Lydia, but. "There has to be a better analogy." She'll mourn the loss of Han Solo's butt later. Both conversations are a welcome distraction from the looming incident that she's pretty sure is going to happen. Someone on the ship is going to step out of line, and someone is going to step up to stop them, and if they can't even keep from infighting, what the hell hope do they have to keep someone else from attacking?

But there's always hope. She can't just give up. Even when it's probably the easiest course of action.

Doesn't mean she has to not enjoy being distracted from it.

"It's not actually an analogy." Stiles promises Allison in a rush, shaking his head with a laugh. "Because to be entirely honestly neither of us really matches either of them. And I wouldn't even want to be the Brain anyway."

He tilts his head to consider his words for a moment. "Ooooooorr it is an analogy, but more for the regularity that we find ourselves having to deal with this sort of shit, you know? We're old pros at all of this by now, Allison. No matter what winds up happening, we've got this."

"Yeah," she says, with a small smile. "Sometimes I kinda wish we didn't." There's a brief pause, while she considers even contiuing, and then decides to just go for it. It's not like it's going to hurt anything.

"I mean, I barely remember when the worst thing in my life was whether or not I was passing English and if I was going to get asked to prom. It just... seems like so long ago."

"Puh-lease." Stiles says, stretching the word out to enforce just how patently ridiculous he really finds what she said. "Who wouldn't want to ask you to prom, you're amazing. You can't tell me the guys weren't falling over themselves to ask you out at your old school, crazy dad with an arsenal in his garage to dissuade them and all."

He grins and leans in conspiratorially, arm brushing against hers as he does. "You know you were way out of Scott's league, right?" He asks with all the well meaning honesty of a guy's best friend. "And Isaac, we're not even going to talk about Isaac." Said with the grace of a guy who really really doesn't like Isaac.

"I am not," she says, maybe too quickly. It's not that Allison has low self-esteem, per se, about her looks. (Other things, absolutely, but as far as she's concerned, that has no bearing on whether or not she's in someone's league.) "And I didn't. Before Beacon Hills, I didn't... really have a lot of friends. Not like you guys. I moved around too much so people didn't really get a chance to get to know me. Scott and Isaac are the only guys I've dated."

She gives him a small Look for the Isaac jab, but she's also not going to push it. There's no getting those two to like one another; if Scott McCall can't do it, no one can. She nudges his arm with her elbow.

"You're not terrible yourself, you know. Lydia's really missing out."

Stiles waves a hand between the two of them, or more like, he flicks his wrist between them because that's how much thought he's bothering to apply to Allison's comment. It's patently ridiculous. "I've lived in Beacon Hills my whole life and Scott was my only friend." And Heather, before they'd gone to different schools. But he's not going to be the downer to this conversation now by bringing her up.

"Without werewolves I would still be the weird sheriff's kid with no friends." A beat as he considers what he just said, and then he adds, "Which I still am, so never mind. You all just happen to be stuck with me anyway. And Lydia..."

He shrugs, scratches the side of his neck with a small frown. "Kind of gave up on that one after the whole true loves kiss stuff with Jackson. That stuff's a little hard to compete with, you know? I think I kind of like her better as a friend, anyway."

She makes another face at the implication that they're not friends, because if they're not, what are they? Friends hang out on a regular basis and talk or just sit in silence knitting or go to one another when the shit hits the fan, even when it hits the fan every other day like it had back home.

"You have more friends than just Scott. Lydia, like you just said. Me. Kira, Malia..." She can't speak for anyone else. She'd include Derek on the list, but that's probably inaccurate. She doesn't know if Stiles considers Cora a friend or vice versa. After saying it out loud, it's kind of a pathetic list. But she's sticking to it.

"You're not just that weird kid anymore. Actually, I never thought you were weird. I mean, no more weird than Scott."

Stiles just makes a face back at Allison because wow, that was totally not what he meant, okay? "Okay fine, yes, I misspoke. I have more than one friend now.

"I was talking more about still being the weird sheriff's kid. Which i still totally am, don't even try to argue this with me, Allison." Mock glare sent her way to make sure that Allison understands he means business.

But yeah Allison, it is a pathetic list. Comprised entirely of werewolf adjacent people who never would have spoken to him otherwise. But nice try with the pep talk anyway.

She has to grin just a little bit at that. "Okay, fine, you're still the weird sheriff's kid. If it makes you feel better, back in San Francisco, I was the weird gun nut's kid."

It's not the size of the list that matters, to Allison, it's the people on it. Even if the amount is pathetic. Especially if the amount is pathetic. She nudges him with her shoulder. "The point is you're not alone anymore. And lots of people would ask you to prom." A pause.

"Lydia and I would make them."

Stiles laughs, and it lasts for a pretty long time because wow no Allison, do you not remember how the last dance party went where someone was 'persuaded' to go with Stiles? It did not end well. But also because between Allison and Lydia they could absolutely get him a date, no question. Even apart the two were terrifying but together?

Nothing they couldn't do.

"That sounds equally terrifying and reassuring. Well done." And he's holding a hand up for her to high five, better not leave him hanging for long, girl.

She reaches up and high fives him, also laughing a bit.

"Good. Our plan for world domination relies on us sounding terrifying and reassuring at the same time." She doesn't let go of his hand right away, instead resting it on the bed between them for a moment.

"Weirdly enough, I actually feel better. Regardless of what happens, I think we've got this. Hopefully that guy won't actually follow up on his threats."

And Stiles just leaves his hand there. It's pretty nice in it's own way.

"We've totally got this, Allison. After Beacon Hills? There isn't a thing that the universe can throw at us that we can't handle."

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I can't seem to kill my assailants

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