Jan. 16th, 2017

aboutzero: <user name=famira> (48)
[personal profile] aboutzero
[Sam knows this isn't a dream, he doesn't have the imagination for it. What he doesn't know is where the hell he is and if anybody from home is here, too. He should play it cool right? Yeah, he should play it cool.]

So, I'm lookin' for a guy, well three guys. One's always on my left.

[Nice. Kinda cryptic, too. He's not much of a spy, but it might be enough to make Nat proud.]

The second guy's real small and no fun at picnics. [Even better.] Third, uh, likes birds? Might've been a bird at some point, it's hard to tell.

[There's a pause. He's gotten off track.]

And there's a girl. Sweet, has an accent, could kick your ass if she thought about it long enough. If anyone has any idea what I'm talking about, cause I sure don't, hit me up.

[Here's to hoping they can crack that code.]
singly: (brow furrow)
[personal profile] singly
[Malia shows up in the light of day; the gardens she's near being a peaceful polar opposite to the thrumming party she's come from. No fall of night, no crackling of fire, no smoke, no music, no dancing, no alcohol, and no Scott right in her face trying to tell her that werewolvescoyotes can't get drunk.

Which he must've been wrong about -- up until she realizes, standing there, that he must be right. Because she was drunk (and not really into it) only moments before. Looking around then though, she's achingly aware of how clear her senses are.

Spotting a huge building only makes her run away from it, in the direction of a fence that she, for some reason, can't reach. So, she's dreaming. Has to be. That's what's going through her mind when she's suddenly transported away from her path and...at a door to that building.

There's quiet cursing to herself about what the hell just happened before she frowns at the door. As if she's going in there. She's already sensing that there's something off about it, and she doesn't care if that's just her imagination.

Then, she spots a piece of technology that looks like it could be a phone. Maybe. She snatches it up out of the grass and flips it over in her hands, pressing buttons on it after only a second or two of attempting to figure out how it works. Patience, what's that? It's rather solid and too real to be an item in a dream. That realization serves to confuse her all the more. It starts to record with her staying put, voice heavily agitated. She's unwittingly broadcasting video, which is a flurry of unfocused seconds and colors, albeit sunlight perhaps being evident.]

What the hell's goin' on, and who's freaking...phone, or whatever, is this?

[She doesn't know that it's recording video, or anything, for that matter. So polite. Such good first impression. Much joy. Wow.

She clutches tightly onto the device, turning it over and causing her face to be on display. Brow furrowing deeply, frown etched onto her lips as she sees that it's doing...something? Jaw tight before her mouth opens and her teeth show, fangs peeking out in a little snarl with brown eyes flashing electric blue, she looks away and calls something out.]

If this is something you did, you know I'm not in the mood for it, Stiles.

[A long pause, soft huff leaving her.]

Someone come out or wake me the hell up! Now!


LAYOUT BASE @ [community profile] fruitstyle