laography | everybody wants to rule the world

[ It was satisfying, at least. Stiles can console himself with that when he's about to die. When Lydia's gone and there are footsteps down the hall, Stiles jerks up and grabs onto the edge of the table, trying to stay calm. His heart thuds in his chest as he ponders the merits of getting up and bolting out of the window, or how fast the guard would kill him.

But he doesn't lose his grip or his focus, and as far as it would look to naked eyes, he's human. Stiles doesn't freak or flash his eyes when the door opens, either, but he does regard the alpha with a wary look, only to stop for a second as his eyes scan over his face. ] ...Alpha Hale.

[ That wasn't who he was expecting, exactly. Stiles' shoulders slump a little, and he raises an eyebrow. ] Are you here to give me the killing I just asked for or do I get to wait for my government-ordained killing in the arena when I inevitably trip in the starting countdown?

[ Up close, Stiles is all limbs and mouth, and he can't say he's particularly surprised. But his eyes are really what catch his attention, and there's no denying that he's smart. It's obvious even when he's not trash talking the other candidates and the very alphas that he was supposed to be appealing to. (To be fair, he wasn't exactly conventional when he'd done it, himself.) Unfortunately, it's also obvious that he's tense. Not that he can blame him, after that stunt, but he's visibly handling this rather well otherwise.

Derek slowly cocks his head to the side, almost as if actually considering the question. He brings his hands up, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall opposite Stiles. ] I'm here to get to you before they do, and to make sure that you're actually prepared so you don't trip in the starting countdown.

[ And, preferably, survive the damn games. ]

Edited 2013-11-25 03:08 (UTC)

[ Stiles literally gapes at him for that one, staring for a minute. He wasn't really expecting anything short of "here's my claws, nice to meet your throat" and a cannon shot to go off before he even frickin' got into the game.

His mouth shuts with an audible click, and he raises his eyebrows. He's more than smart enough to figure this part out. ] You want to sponsor me.

[ Somewhere it echoes in the back of his head that everyone Derek Hale's ever sponsored has died. It's kind of hard to have luck with this kind of thing, particularly when alphas like Deucalion and Kali have their bets on the wolves from the big city. ]

Unlike the other alphas that you've pissed off in one fell swoop, I'm more inclined to agree with you. [ His eyebrows twitch up in response to Stiles' reaction as he processes the situation, but Derek remains calm and even as he speaks. Few people actually speak ill of the alphas, or at least few people manage to get out of it alive, but he's been pushing his luck with them for a good seven, eight years now. Maybe the handful of candidates he's sponsored haven't made it out of the games, but no one can deny that they've been just as tenacious as their sponsor.

Stiles is tenacious on his own, and he can tell. And maybe he's afraid, but it doesn't stop him from voicing exactly what's on his mind. It's appealing, though he knows that he's going to have a headache very, very soon. ]

And probably the only one that would be willing to act as your sponsor, given the aneurysm you gave everyone.

[ ...huh.

Stiles nods a little to himself, turning his gaze away from Derek's and looking at the table. He knows a lot about Derek's win in the games; he watched it, when he had to kill the other candidate from Beacon Hills. They'd been in love, but she'd been this close to being killed by another candidate, and in his arms, when they were the last two left, she'd begged for him to end it for her and let her die in peace. It was hard to stomach, although not as hard as the interviews they had to watch Derek sit through when it was all over. He could only imagine what that initiation had felt like.

A part of him wondered if Derek hadn't had become an alpha by winning the competition, if his eyes would have been blue. Most of the betas who get involved turn blue before the end of the competition--Stiles already has them beat on that one. Thinking of his mom, what she would say with this circus (and her already vehement hatred of the games), Stiles focuses back in on the conversation and makes a guilty face. Oops. ]

Yeah, well, I volunteered to be here, I might as well show them I'm not actually that interested. [ It was worth it, though. Mouth curling up a little, he glances at Derek. ] Did it really piss them off that bad?

[ Some alphas were born into the right, rather than having to fight for it in the games. Had it passed on to them through family, or simply came into it. Talia Hale had hated the games vehemently, herself. Fought to have them abolished, for the sake of the future generations that would come. She had been absolutely livid when he had been selected as a candidate, and Derek vaguely remembers her ripping into Deucalion himself, before he became a major spokesperson for the games.

Though she never stopped opposing them, when he won the games she had been both relieved and quieter. It was possibly in respect for everything that'd happened to him-- two of the friends he'd made in training, people he'd worked with as the countdown loomed over them, had died; he had a piece of his soul ripped from his chest, leaving a searing blue in his eyes until he'd been initiated-- and maybe, she felt like her son did. He never knew, and he never tried to ask, before the fire.

He keeps his eyes on Stiles, observing him with a keen, if quiet, interest. ]

For your best friend. I saw that. [ There's no judgment to that, and even if there was it shifts away and into faint amusement in response to Stiles' question. ] Most of the southern alphas flashed their eyes. Alpha Sanchez probably lost ten pounds because of the explosion on the barrier, but like you said. Some of them need to lose that weight.

[ That startles a laugh out of him, and Stiles drops his head, shaking it a little with his snort. It's kind of weird to think that one of the alphas actually wants to sponsor him, after that. ] I guess I wasn't really thinking. [ A beat. ] I don't usually do that anyway. My dad says I was born with "a knack for avoiding authority figures." Kind of a joke of a beta.

[ Folding his hands together, Stiles looks down at them. He'd barely gotten to say goodbye to Scott, who'd just told him he was an idiot for volunteering, but given him the tightest hug he'd ever received and told him not to die. His dad's goodbye had been even more brutal--he'd looked so damn hurt. Stiles didn't want his dad to have to bury him next to his mom. He had a feeling that the alphas wouldn't let him get out without being eviscerated, anyway.

Swallowing down that less than pleasant thought, Stiles sighs through his nose. ] I'm not a very good fighter. I'm pretty much positive they only let me volunteer because they needed an easy kill.

[ Tipping his head back against the wall behind him, the corner of his mouth twitches the slightest bit. This is going to be an interesting round of the games, that's for sure. The other candidates are varied across the whole spectrum, but most of them seem more prepared for this. Or at least have the more elite of the alphas sponsoring them. ] You're not the first, and you won't be the last.

[ After a moment more of consideration, Derek sways forward and away from the wall, stepping closer to him on silent feet. He's obviously giving Stiles a once-over, but keeps to the edges of their personal space rather than quite stepping over completely. He doesn't look like a lot, but he's lean like a runner, tall but still considerably smaller than at least one of the other candidates. And inexperienced.

But so was he. ] I wasn't either, and most of the betting pool leaned towards the cannons firing on the first day. [ There's a pause, and his jaw works a little. ] You'll learn, even if I have to teach you myself.

[ Vaguely feeling like he's being eyed like a piece of meat, Stiles looks Derek up and down and drums his fingertips against the table. He's got exactly three days before he has to go into the arena. Three. One for the gimmicks and the parades, one for TV interviews, and one last day of "reconcile", which was basically Alphaese for "getting ready for the fact that you're probably gonna die." ] Exactly how much are you planning on teaching me that fast?

[ But, he can remember. He can remember Derek, who was fierce as hell for being the underdog. He wasn't exactly the pride of Beacon Hills when he won, considering what he had to do to do it, and his victory passed with a small parade and nothing else. It didn't seem like Derek won, at all. Rather, it felt like he survived.

Stiles had never really been much of a winner, either. Maybe surviving was the way to go. ] Bet on the lame horse and get the better draw, I guess.

[ He glances up and looks at his face, brown eyes hardening just a little, and holds out his hand. ] You've got a deal.

[ Three days is not enough and yet far too much at the same time. Stiles needs to be as prepared as possible for what he's about to face, but the technicians behind the entire fiasco tend to throw as many curveballs into the thing as possible. Derek knows from experience, and knows from watching it from the outside. The hardest part is the day for "reconcile," when you know it's the last you'll have before you go in to either survive or die. ] You've got brains and a good eye, you'd do well to hone that, as a strategist. But you're more for speed than strength, so it'd be better to focus on something that can keep you out of arm's reach until you need to get in and out.

[ And it really isn't winning. Some people might think of it as a victory, to step into the upper echelon. But not Derek. It was simply finding some way to survive, even before Paige had been gutted to the point that her body was rejecting the healing process. Afterwards? Much of it was a haze, and he tries not to think back to what he'd done to survive, despite the fact it was what they'd all done since the first games. ] Something like that.

[ Meeting his gaze steadily, clear green-gold searching before he seems to find some sort of answer, he brings a hand up to take Stiles' firmly. ]

everybody wants to rule the world

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