everybody wants to rule the world

[triskeles]

holding hands while the walls come tumbling down when they do i'll be right behind you

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[triskeles]

[ 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.

[hypercompetent]

[ 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.

[triskeles]

[ 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. ]