And, maybe it's not fair, oversimplifying a fact of life.
It takes Scott one extra year to finish his college education. He wears his stamp of super senior proudly to undergraduates. He appreciates the checks that come from another year of TA-ing, and the several classes a semester he's asked to teach. His mom understands. She became comfortable with her son's extracurricular activities late in his high school career. How could it not effect his college career?
Deaton says that inevitably, every pack separates at least for some time - if not because of life, and responsibilities, or outside force, because that's the way nature intended it. He takes that to heart. These days Liam, Hayden, and Lydia contact him most. Stiles is as busy as he is, sometimes more. Malia is a fan of Face Time - and also Stiles, so a lot of what he gets is his best friend in the background studying - or passing by on his way out, to a seminar, or a final. It's grad school that sucks Stiles' time. Criminology is a no-brainer. And when Scott manages to get on line or on the phone with Stiles, he gets an earful of what's wrong with their justice system. Scott's proud. Immeasurably.
But, Scott is also still in school. Stiles keeps his head above water and Scott buckles. Something's got to give, and that's graduating.
Until he finally does. His mom (and dad) cry.
Veterinary school is also inevitable. With a college degree under his belt (his mom insisted), he sets his sights on veterinary school. He's accepted into the Winter semester. He takes the months leading up to finally live his life. He makes things right with Stiles, the two of them spending 72 uninterrupted (not Star Wars, Stiles) hours with one another and they manage to text at least once a day, if not hold up a real exchange. That falls to the way side consistently, but the sentiment remains and their friendship is saved.
Deaton once told Scott everything comes full circle.
He starts to believe it when life relocates his friends in the same vicinity. The East Coast, shockingly, welcomes the McCall pack. Scott and Lydia, at John's Hopkins in Maryland, with Stiles not too far in DC, and Liam having got a scholarship to University of Maryland, Hayden just nearby at Micah. Malia is the hold out, knowing why she'd move but creating a life back where they're all from. She visits, or joins them in crisis.
Scott gets an inkling that he's more open than he'd first thought in college. In hindsight, maybe he should have made it clear - that the guy he'd found a bond with after Stiles just happened to be gay, but he didn't grow up with Eric, so he is not his brother. Just a guy who actually goes with him to the gym, and keeps up with his immense appetite (he's an athlete) as well as a budding anthropologist. Their relationship is surprisingly longterm, only ending when Scott has to repeat his senior year. But, not because he repeats it, Eric makes it clear. It's proximity. By this time, Eric's been clued in - he's known for longer than he lets on - but he points out wolf patterns, and the natural (he calls it natural but Scott knows he means primal) need for well, but they'd both need.
It's Scott's most mature break-up.
Eric didn't die, or suddenly move away. They both agreed this is the right decision.
Lydia and Scott grow closer at John's Hopkins, things inevitably taking a turn for the primal, as Eric would put it - Eric had even asked how nothing had ever happened between them back in college when Lydia visited - but Lydia makes it clear nothing serious can happen between them, not because there isn't love, or, trust, but because she's not sure where she'll end up during residency. She's not the only one to come to the conclusion that taking things in a serious direction, probably wouldn't be for the best. Scott tells Stiles, anyway, because he's first and foremost a good friend.
Ironic, when Scott is his most settled, when things have fallen into place, that his world is turned upside down, literally.
The breeze kicks in, feeling both cool, and refreshing, on his skin. Stirring, he stretches out, head falling backward off the end of a deck chair. Lydia must have turned the air on. Couple that with Scott's penchant to move around in his sleep, he's not too surprised he's upside down and halfway off his bed. The slats of rubber uncomfortably settle against his back. His hand slips under one, eyes opening that second. Across the deck - of a ship, he sees other deck chairs, and sky, he sees a lot of sky. Pulling himself up to a sitting position, Scott blinks away under the sun, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. High alert kicks in and he's up in seconds, whirling around. Spotting the railing, he approaches, knowing full well what lies beyond, but he has to see it for himself. Waves crash beneath him, their sound becoming clearer.
Looking back, he takes a second, breathing in the sea air.
Isaac thought he would miss Beacon Hills more. It's not that he doesn't care about the friends he's made but even after weeks turn to months turn to years and the sharp, gut-wrenching pain of losing Allison fades to a dull, occasional ache he knows that he has no desire to return there. Even the occasional idea of visiting is a rather lackluster one at best although he would welcome almost any member of the pack to France with open arms. It's selfish of him of course but when has he ever pretended to be otherwise?
Honestly, it doesn't come as any kind of surprise to him when he tumbles into bed with one of his attractive male cohorts. Isaac has always known he was bi and his giant crush on Scott had persisted even after he'd started quasi-dating Allison. This guy, Augustin, has been living with him for the better part of the past year. Isaac supposes he should consider him his boyfriend as he knows that's certainly how Augustin refers to him among all of their mutual friends but the truth is that Isaac hasn't even bothered to clue him in about the whole werewolf thing and, for better or worse, doesn't really care to.
When he first comes back to a conscious state, Isaac just lays there for awhile. He can feel the gentle rocking motion of the ship atop the waves and it's almost enough to lull him back to sleep. But the sun is obnoxiously bright as is the noise of seagulls flying overhead and eventually he hauls himself up into a sitting position with a slight groan.
It's alarming how vivid every new sensation is, from the blistering heat of the sun, to the briny smell of ocean water, and the tussle of his curly mop of hair in the faint breeze. But the reality of the situation is too absurd to consider as anything more than a particularly desperate dream. How apt that he should find himself on a vessel of some kind, as if he could just sail far, far away from all of his problems.
"Welcome aboard! Please make your way to Guest Services."
The announcement plays overhead, sufficiently distracting him once more. Isaac pushes himself to stand, deciding to passively comply for the moment.
He goes from looking across the way, to up, and around as the message blares in his ears. While he's able to concentrate on sounds at a time, it's his disorientation that catches his heightened senses off guard. Luckily, it's clear, crisp and very quick, for as soon as he's listening, ears perked, it's over.
Scott McCall has never been on a cruise ship before. His mother isn't made of money, and all his personal money goes to expenses, to books, to not sailing the high seas. This is the thought that permeates his brain as he waits, expecting any moment to wake up. He shouldn't be able to pull any of this up in his mind. He can count the people whose necks he's pierced on one hand and he's pretty sure, with the exception of Peter Hale, that none of them have been on a cruise ship either. After five minutes, or however long, nothing happens. He knows he has to move, go somewhere.
This could be about being a werewolf. It seems pricey (and violating) for a welcome to veterinary school. He's leaning toward werewolf. And he's leaning toward sinister as a word to describe what's happening. There's only one thing he can do to find out what the hell is going on.
He stays alert, choosing to go right. He's closer to the door. It slides open when he steps up to it. He doesn't move long enough for it to slide back, before he moves again and heads inside. The door slides behind him as he spots an electronic map on the wall -- a diagram of the ship.
The Nautilus
He scans the different names, and rooms. The deck numbers. 14 decks. He thinks about heading down to the galley on deck 2, but the image of the ocean below sticks with him. just because he's a supernatural creature does not mean he'll be able to make it anywhere in time. There's no telling how far away from shore he is.
Guest Services is on Deck 7, and, if he's reading the map right, it's below him on this side of the boat. Forget the elevator, he's creeping down the stairs, acutely aware of his surroundings and hoping for someone's familiar scent.
The longer that Isaac navigates his way through the ship (The Nautilus, as he's quickly discovered it to be named), the more increasingly aware he becomes that something is Not Right. That's not quite the same as realizing yet that this is all Very Real but nonetheless, the hairs on the back of his neck seem to be prickling with a steadily building sense of caution.
In the stairwell he pauses, for the first time hearing a noise which betrays the actual physical presence of someone besides himself aboard this eerily silent ship, mysterious voice-which-could-easily-be-a-recording notwithstanding. The strong stench of salt water still burns in his nose a bit, hampering his impressive sense of smell. But he can tell that, whoever it is, is drawing steadily closer to him. Isaac slips around the corner, hiding in silence, trying to slow his own heartbeat down to something less noticeable by forcing himself to breathe in and exhale more slowly, when the hint of a figure finally makes to creep by the doorway and Isaac ambushes them with the full weight of his body.
Instead of moving forward when he reaches the 7th deck, he decides to explore what looks like the hallway to - well, he guesses they're rooms. Again, he's not a cruise expert. Thinking better of it, he spots the glean from the Guest Services sign.
Passing the doorway, rather than traveling through, has him tackled. Him and the other person skidding along the floor, rolling above one another. Scott uses their momentum and tosses his assailant through the doorway into the opposite hallway. Coming to his feet, he snarled, baring his fangs and nails.
In retrospect, Isaac isn't sure what he had been expecting. He gets launched through the air with a surprising amount of force, crashing hard against the far wall. Despite the pain of a rough collision, Isaac is quick to climb back onto his feet, facial features morphing into those of the wolf as he turns to confront his victim-turned-assailant head-on. The snarl of the other reverberates first through his core and Isaac is nearly brought to his knees again. There's only one person who's ever been able to affect him in such a way...
He may be older - though barely looking it, but there's no doubt in Scott's mind, that this is Isaac Lahey.
There is no sadder statement to Scott in this moment than 'life goes on.' But, now isn't the time to rehash how many times he could've messaged Isaac, or called him, or even scrounged together money for a ticket, to visit Isaac. The most he's done is check in with Chris. After Allison things were never the same between them. Scott, Allison, and Stiles participated in that ritual and nothing was ever the same.
His heart of darkness.
Scott's eyes return to normal. As strained as things had gotten, this is still Isaac. His heavy breathing slows.
"I could ask you the same question," Isaac smartly points out but he relents after a beat, his own claws and fangs retracting. "I thought that maybe I was dreaming. But if you're here then I'm guessing that isn't the case." His voice is full of a kind of humorless resignation.
What was that thing Stilinski used to say...? One's an incident, two's a coincidence... They're on their way to a pattern.
Scott could've asked a better question, but his tendency from time to time to be a bit dim hasn't left him. They are not, however in a gay bar.
"We still could be." Scott's dreamed about people from his childhood before, about his childhood. "But, I think you're right. I don't think this is a dream." Were they capturing werewolves? "Are you back in America?" It would take effort to kidnap Isaac from another country, let alone a country an ocean away from them. "Have you seen the others?" If Isaac was pulled in, Scott's got a bad feeling this is about him and his pack, and he doesn't know if that stretches to people like Stiles.
"No." Isaac shakes his head and then elaborates: "You're the only one I've seen." Or heard or even smelled for that matter. It's almost like wherever they are, they're the only ones there. Which is totally impossible, as that voice over the loudspeaker had to come from somewhere. "We should stick together until we know more about what we're up against here."
Scott nods. At one time, this may have ended in a hug, with the werewolf grateful to see Pack. But they haven't been pack in years. He'd approach him, move closer, but too much time has passed. Isaac is both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
"They said we should find guest services. It's on this deck." At least, then maybe they'd get answers. He looks back through the main opening. He doesn't indicate Isaac should follow - but hopefully it's clear he should. Creeping slowly, he's sure to stay aware of various sounds around them - which unfortunately amount to waves moving outside, if concentrates. Scents, however, are widespread - including Isaac's which isn't exactly what he remembers, but only because there's also a scent Isaac reeks of that Scott doesn't recognize. Now is not the time to address this, but it can't go unnoticed. He's momentarily glad Isaac has hopefully found happiness with a girl.
The guest services desk stands empty - unsurprising - save for four manila envelopes with Isaac's, Scott's, Tyler? and Jeremy's name on them.
No sooner has Scott asked then Isaac is already reaching for his, with only a cursory nod of agreement to acknowledge the question as it's posed. He tears gracelessly into the envelope, dumping its contents out onto the otherwise empty counter to be inspected. There's only a plastic key card and a few sheets of paper, each carefully folded like a brochure. One of them is obviously some kind of map or directory. The second one appears to be a time table of sorts. And the third... Isaac picks it up, glancing over it with a frown. "What the hell?"
Scott's in hand, he pours his out, the key card and slips of paper sliding out onto the counter. He picks up the keycard first, reading his full name, a room number, and, "Califiore." He looks to Isaac and back down. Apparently, that's his dining room.
"I think I'm in room 7201."
Setting the card aside, Scott unfolds the activity schedule, furrowing his brow as he reads the different activities offered. Setting that aside, Scott finds what Isaac must be reacting to. His eyes go wide.
"Work contracts," supplies Isaac, clearly unimpressed by the concept that all signs point to them being mysteriously whisked away from their regular lives only to basically be forced into menial labor on a mysterious and possibly supernatural cruise ship. In his growing anger, he impulsively thinks to rip it up but when he tries the paper won't give.
"And," Scott adds, folding back one corner of the top page. "Rules." Specific rules. Rules against vandalism, violence and public over-intoxications. "They have curfews." In addition, assigned jobs are assigned and people need to be where they're assigned during the hours they're assigned. "What's a muster drill?" His face, contorting in confusion finally meets Isaac's again.
"No idea," Isaac admits, with an uneasy frown. The temptation to soothe himself with the assurance that this is all just one big nightmare is still there but honestly, the way everything is laid out so specifically with meticulous attention to even the tiniest detail seems beyond his mind's capabilities. Put simply, Isaac doesn't think he could dream up something like this in a million years. The question has him reaching instinctively for his cellphone in his pocket as if to google it. But, unsurprisingly at this point, he finds that it's missing along with his wallet.
His frown deepens as he glances back down at his contract. Supposedly he's meant to work at a restaurant. "Who am I even supposed to be serving? There's like, nobody else here." They haven't seen the whole ship but he's almost completely sure of it. It's too quiet and devoid of scent.
It's laughable, the idea of Isaac serving literally nobody on this empty ship. Laughable if it weren't incredibly ... off. Everything about this is off. Scott knows he's not dreaming. And now he at least knows he's not having some fever dream. After his, Stiles, and Allison's sacrifice he'd hallucinated. This isn't that. When in the pseudo-coma, he'd also hallucinated. It's not either one of those.
It's real.
"I'm teaching exercise," he starts, the word instructor standing out. To whom?
Everything is making Scott's head hurt.
"We're working on here?" It's mostly himself he's asking. Kidnapping them is one thing, but putting them to work? Again. Why. Eyes back on the paper, he frowns.
"What do you think they mean by consequences?" And who is they? "Have you seen anyone else around?"
Isaac's gaze strays briefly to Scott's muscular arms, his entire physique even more impressive than he last remembers. At least he actually looks like he could play the part which makes Isaac's own appointment even more bizarre. Serving his dad dinner every night doesn't exactly count as job experience, after all.
"No," he shakes his head, although he can't help but to glance suspiciously over his shoulder as he does. "Like I said, you're the only one." But there has to be somebody here. Piloting the ship if nothing else.
A moment later, he dangles his key from the tip of his index finger. "We should find our room." Yes, that's singular if Scott hasn't already noticed on his own that apparently they're meant to share a cabin. Which is definitely awkward for a number of reasons but at the same time Isaac is secretly relieved because with nobody else around, it's a bit creepy.
Scott looks in the direction Isaac peers, and then around them as well. He can't help but feel dunked. He looks back when he realizes Isaac says our. Isaac's right. Isaac must also be in room 7201. He nods silently, giving his papers one more glance before grabbing his key card from the desk.
He leads the way, again, the alpha in him emerging. Peering into the hallway on one side, he sees the span of rooms on this side of the ship. He turns and checks across the hall.
"It's this way."
He's going to get lost a lot on this ship, he already knows it. He doesn't like thinking about the days to come - not escaping. He'll settle on, for the time being.
He finds the number they need, looking to Isaac before sliding in his key card. And pulling it out. A small light beeps green. Scott hesitates, then tries the handle which doesn't budge. He furrows his brow. Trying again, he slides it in and out and this time he grabs the handle with werewolf speed, the door now opening.
"I guess we have to open the door when the light's green," he states. Taking a breath, he finally pushes the door open. It's heavy so he holds it open for Isaac as well before letting it swing shut.
He maneuvers around the bench and passes the (very nice) TV choosing to go straight. He eyes the armoire and opens what ends up being a closet door before finding himself in ... an empty room.
Isaac has never been on a ship before so he doesn't really have any preconceived notions about what to expect from their new living arrangements. Nonetheless, he gets the impression that a suite like this isn't exactly standard fare. He resents being impressed by it at all, wanting to hate each and every square inch, but the reality is if they're going to be stuck here sharing a room then having one as spacious and luxurious as this goes a long way toward making the best of a bad situation.
While Scott sets out on an exploration of the cabin, Isaac does some poking around of his own. He finds himself out on the veranda overlooking the endless expanse of dark ocean once more. Leaning over the rail as far as he can, he attempts to get a better look at what's on the decks further below them.
He's just about to go back inside when a blur of motion catches his eye. "Scott!"
The empty room forgotten, Scott hurries back into the room taking advantage of his werewolf speed. A cursory glance into the bedroom, he follows Isaac's scent out onto the balcony. He looks in the direction Isaac is looking.
"Did you see something?"
He pants, catching his breath. It's been years since he's seen Isaac but the mere thought of him being in any danger sent a cold shiver down his spine. Isaac is in one piece. Scott pushes away the feeling that the breeze is nice. Screw this breeze and screw this ship.
Isaac is oblivious to Scott's moment of concern for him. But he is excited to report back about what he's just seen. "There was someone there." He jabs a finger in that general direction. "I didn't get a real good look at them but it was definitely another person."
Scott's not expecting him to acknowledge concern. It's should be unconditional.
"So we're not alone." Which makes more sense, considering they're prisoners of some sort. "Should we go knock?" He counts down from their window. He should know which door they're behind, at least.
"Maybe." Isaac purses his lips. It's like Schrödinger's idea. Both good and bad until said door opens. "We could try spying on them first. See if they're like us." Either wolf-us or hostage-us applies.
"Like, stay on the balcony?" For how long? Or, does he mean go downstairs, watch whomever is down their leave their room, follow them. He draws his lips together, considering their options.
"We should keep an eye on them. If they're living in a room, maybe they're like us." Prisoners, not wolves. Hopefully. "Come on," he says, leading Isaac back out of the room. He even holds the door open for him, like a gentleman.
He means go downstairs which is just as well because that's what Scott ultimately decides for them to do. It's funny because for so long Isaac has been a literal lone wolf but it's so easy and instinctive right now to slip back into the role of being the trusting, obedient beta to Scott's alpha. His surly expression even gives way to a slight smile as passes by him through the open doorway.
He and Isaac go back in the direction they came, heading for the stairs and going one flight (flight? deck, he reminds himself it's a deck) down. Isaac had been peering right below, which means whoever else is here lives in the cabin underneath theirs. Scott waits, listening for movement.
"Hear that?" The handle of the door being pulled down and the door opening. He listens for footsteps toward them, but they grow fainter. "They're moving to the other side of the ship. If we follow her right now, she'll see us. Or, hear us." He thinks. "What if we go down the other hallway, see where she goes from that side?"
Isaac does, indeed, hear the sound of someone walking -- first toward and then away from them. At Scott's suggestion he nods in affirmation. "Yeah," he murmurs, intentionally keeping his voice low. "Okay, you first." He nods again, this time down the hallway in question. Whoever it is that they're following, their scent -- which he can finally catch a whiff of -- is totally unfamiliar. That doesn't mean they aren't supernatural or from Beacon Hills but it's definitely nobody he can ever remember meeting before.
Buffy Summers has been on board for a few months now, and aside from the crappy should be minimum wage job (been there, slung those burgers) and the more annoying than creepy nightly invisible entertainment, it isn't too bad on board. She hasn't lost sight of this being an inter dimensional kidnapping. After repeated attempts at getting out failed, and a short stint as a plain Jane, she's become the model of a ship board passenger. Or, is it, crew member since she's assigned the job? She figures it's somewhere in between. Other people being on board help. Her roommate Elijah is proper in that old timey gentlemanly way she never tires of (and he ain't half bad to look at either). He's both modest and respectful, preferring to turn his back or make himself scarce when she needs to change. If asked, she helped him acclimate, but in all honesty, he took to the ship like a ship takes to water. No stranger to magic, he begrudgingly accepts their mutual predicament. Tyler's nice enough, albeit a little rough around the edges. After a few mornings of nods back and forth, she finally had to approach the kid. They struck up a begrudging friendship, for lack of a better term. Elijah has yet to join her for a run or a go at the gym, and that's alright. She likes him in his signature suit.
Overall, Buffy's simply OK, preferring to ride the line between wary but accepting - mostly because of the consequences that have befallen her. While she's not lying to herself, she's tabling her unease, despite it always being at the back of her mind.
This morning, she's running late to meet Tyler at the gym, though not sure he'd care one way or the other, so she takes her time. Preferring to get her heart rate up before the gym, she jogs down the empty hallway. Not one for having been on a ship before, she assumes had this been a regular, full ship, she wouldn't be able to do this. (There's a lot like that she takes advantage of. Cute fruity drinks. Free food. Empty facilities, mostly.)
Emerging from the other side of the ship, she pauses, bending over. Knees up again, she checks her pulse. She may be away from everyone she holds dear, but she still keeps up her training.
Whoever it is, she's in gym clothes -- looking far from the hallmark of evil and villainy as she casually stretches and checks her pulse, which Isaac can hear is currently much more elevated than normal. His gaze slides over to Scott, silently questioning what their next move should be.
Actually, the more that he stares at her, the more that he's sure she's like them -- a fellow passenger, not someone in any kind of official capacity as it were. Although she looks awfully settled in her morning routine. Isaac's forehead creases as he contemplates what that might mean for Scott and him going forward. Exactly how long has this woman been here? What does she know about their captors? Has she ever tried escaping? So many questions bubble up inside of him and he's aware with a frustrating kind of certainty that the only way he's going to get them answered is if he asks. But asking will reveal their presence, which is why he's looking toward Scott again for guidance. Even after all this time, he's still the Alpha and Isaac is content to follow his lead.
Scott leads them down the hallway at a quickened pace, stopping short from the doorway. The two of them peer out from behind. She's blonde, wearing workout clothes. She's casual. Isaac looks back at him for their next move. Scott waits while she moves toward their bank of elevators and disappears from sight.
"Come on," he says, probably for the tenth time that day as they crept up to the other corner, watching her wait for one elevator. She steps on, hitting the button before casually stretching as the doors close. Moving quickly, Scott hits the button, the other elevator doors welcoming them inside.
"She's probably going to the gym," he says, peering at the deck guide in the elevator. Scott may be too busy to realize the elevator they've entered is glass. Scott hits the button, the elevator coming to life and moving upward.
He scrambles quickly to follow, then chooses a spot in the far back corner of the elevator, where he feels slightly more at ease without the sensation of someone being able to creep up on him from behind. Although, once his gaze begins to dart around in earnest, taking better stock of their immediate surroundings, it's of course impossible not to notice just how exposed they really are, given all the glass walls (and even the floor - which is uncomfortably eerie, to say the least). He darts a glance over at the other elevator riding alongside theirs but the woman's back fortunately remains to them, and he can only hope that she doesn't suddenly decide to turn completely around on her way out.
He's on his guard, despite inherently knowing they're not in immediate danger. Even if she were their jailer, she has no weapons to speak of (and no room for said weapons). But, being that their weapons are there when they need them, at their fingertips, he's not taking anything for granted - including the proposed safety of a glass elevator.
Her back may be turned for the time being but both elevators arrive at the same floor at the same time, and she does turn when the doors open.
Oh. 'New people,' is what Buffy conveys with her eyes. It was only a matter of time. The blonde steps out of the elevator and approaches the one Isaac and Scott are in.
"I rode the elevator up and down for an entire day. Besides the view of the Promenade, there's not all that much to see." Except, now them. "I promise no danger lies beyond this elevator." Should they behave/have powers. But, in the general sense, she means.
Scott takes the lead. She does come off as friendly. Not that that means everything. Or anything. But, what choice to they have. His hand comes up to stop the elevator doors for closing. "Scott."
"Uh... Isaac," he adds after a pause, realizing a bit awkwardly that it's also what's expected of him in the moment.
Of course, she could be luring them into a false sense of security; why should they take her word for it? But his feeling that she's stuck here, just like them, rather than some kind of scheming mastermind is only amplified by this whole encounter and so a bit grudgingly he permits himself to relax his guard just a bit.
At the very least, she isn't likely to suddenly attack them.
And if she does, they'll be - well, not ready, or prepared, but able to fight back.
"Buffy." These two were strange, not that she could blame them.
To Scott, he thought he should say his name, thought maybe she'd said hers. But no such luck. He tries his best to stay on his feet, to make sense of everything as it comes, and maybe to take the lead despite Isaac not being pack for quite some time.
Their stalemate in and out of the elevator had to come to an end some time. So, Scott steps out and waves one hand.
"We're friends." Not that she asked. "Do you know where we are?"
"If by 'where we are' you mean an interdimensional trip traveling nowhere, then, yep, five verses in. I am well-versed. And probably a refrain or two." What a time for a demonic musical memory to pop into her mind. She should be glad she's not dancing and burning.
"But, you don't know where it's going." Do inter dimensional ships 'go' anywhere? To dimensions? He wishes Stiles were here because at least he'd be able to follow her.
It's not a name he's heard before. But honestly, neither was 'Stiles.' Maybe it's some kind of nickname? Not that it matters. Especially compared with her next words.
His lips purse together as he tries to make sense of them. Of course, it's not as though she's speaking some kind of word salad. They're all technically understood, like any normal sentence. The problem comes when he tries to extract any kind of deeper meaning.
A ship. Yes, so much as they've gathered. The 'inter-dimensional' part is where things clearly become tricky. He wants to challenge that statement altogether but in his heart of hearts he has a sinking feeling that, while seemingly nonsensical, it's the best explanation they're likely to get beyond 'this is all just one big, weird fucking fever dream.' (Honestly, he doesn't even want to deal with the implications of dreaming so realistically about Scott, to the point where he can literally feel the heat radiating off the other man's - incredibly fit - body).
The ins and outs, if they're to be had, will be the more valuable part in all of this. So he cocks his head to the side questioningly, waiting to see if she volunteers anymore information.
"Not anymore than you do, which, it looks like is as big a pile of 'no' as I've gleaned since waking up here ... four months ago now. If every month counts thirty days - and, like my elevator rides, you probably are getting a picture of how much there is to do around here..." But she digresses. "I should probably say something helpful. As long as you do the jobs assigned to us, nothing interferes with -- us. And - doing what we want." Not being a slayer. Shut up. "There are a few us of that can see one another. There's Tyler, Elijah, Elena... and - names that I'm guessing you don't know. OK. Cliff's notes from Cliff herself, you can't leave. Most rooms are open. Drinks and food are free. Do your jobs. And sometimes, there are phantom sounds - like, belly fop competitions and midnight buffets and this really creepy comedian..."
Don't get Scott wrong. He's trying to follow her run-on sentences. He really is.
"So..."
"Yeah. Look, normally, I'm the go-to-gal for this, but, even this is a little above my pay grade." And she says that so apologetically. "How about, you two -- go over the rest of the ship - unpack." Which warrants the biggest beat. "Your clothes - they're in suit cases outside your rooms by now. I will be gym-lady, and then probably Windjammer lady - and then maybe pool-lady when not working in Johnny Rockets. If you need me. Or, anyone." She really is as apologetic as she sounds, she just hasn't been the one having to do this. "And, if you need anything -- guest services."
She smiles.
"And that's the spiel. I will work on it, polish it off, fine tune a few of the ... harder things to explain and quit while I am not even a little bit ahead." And she's off, calling out a, "Sorry!"
Isaac thinks it takes some level of talent to be able to monologue that effectively. Not that they learned too much -- or at least, not what they wanted to hear, exactly. But it's... Something. As reassuring as it is frustrating to know that she's been aboard the ship for so long and with apparently nothing to show for it in terms of escape plans but. There's something oddly comforting to still be gleaned from her flippant nature. If nothing else, danger doesn't seem to be lurking around every corner like they'd originally been anticipating.
She doesn't stick around afterwards, which Isaac isn't sure whether he feels relieved or annoyed by. But it is what it is. They'll make do on their own for now. Maybe one of the others that she mentioned -- Isaac remembers about 3 names -- will be more helpful, provided that they can find any of them.
The Nautilus is very enormous and it seems only by some miracle that they'd happened across Buffy so soon.
Sighing, Isaac rubs the nape of his neck and darts a glance around. "I guess... We might as well do what she said and keep taking a look around." If they're going to be stuck here for any length of time, then that should be a priority.
"...Yeah." That was something. But, Scott dog-ears a few things to remember. There's a gym. There are phantoms. Ghosts? He'd dealt with Doctors and ghost riders. Lydia was the one that saw ghosts. Or, visions. He doesn't always understand what happens to her.
He looks back up at the map of the decks, trying to decide what to do or where to go next. The gym is behind them. That's good to know.
"Is there anywhere you want to check out first?" Because, he's at a loss. He doesn't really want to go back to guest services. Or, their room just yet. It seems right to ask Isaac what he wants. It's something he never really did. He took the young wolf for granted. He lost him to Allison - even when under the same roof. And then he lost him to France. Not that Isaac was his to lose. But, he'd treated him badly. He'd given in to his jealousy while also pursuing his own possibility and still finding fault in what Isaac did. He missed tacos. And late night talks. And motorcycling.
"I wouldn't mind looking outside again." That's where he'd first woken up. In his haste to figure out what the hell was going on, Isaac thinks that maybe he didn't do as much exploring as he ought to have. Perhaps they'll even attract the attention of some of the others that are supposed to be here if they're seen out wandering around in the open, too. It's worth a shot. And, well, worst case scenario? They get some fresh air.
It's as good an idea as any that they've had. It might be good to get more used to the smells outside. Maybe they'd spot the shore, or another interdimensional ship.
The sliding doors near them lead back to the deck.
The ocean sits calm on their side of the ship. Deck 12 overlooks Deck 11's pools - but no other "guests." Scott pauses, leaning over the railing. He closes his eyes, trying to hear anything else. "It's quiet. I think we're the only ones out here right now."
The only indication Tyler Lockwood has of how long he's been on board is the days of the week posted on the floor of the elevator. He hasn't seen a crew member change the day, and he's spent several nights sitting in one of the bars and tossing them back in eyeline of one of the elevators. Sure enough, stumbling in some time after dawn, the day of the week has updated.
At one time, he cursed the invisible crew, the polite captain who speaks up when he wants, and the stateroom attendant who manages to make his damn bed after a quick morning swim.
It takes fifty days for Tyler to resign himself to his stay on board The Nautilus.
It takes less than one day to learn the name of the ship that had kidnapped him: The Nautilus. The ship's channel on the TV advertises the amenities, launching full scale testimonials to the activities it features - from people Tyler's pretty sure he's never met in person. Except, he swears one of them is Johnny Depp. Every evening, the list of the next day's activities appears on his bed, along with a towel wrapped in the shape of an animal. Most of his wardrobe consists of ship brand shirts, shorts and other apparel with a few articles of clothing from home that materialize inside his closet. He realizes participating gets him rewards. Small ones - never Jeremy, or Matt, but an iPod of music he likes - and one morning the gym finally let him in, so that gives him something to do. The food isn't bad. Breakfast's better than the dinner except for lobster night, Thursday nights.
The creepiest shit he's encountered is the midnight comedy show featuring the disembodied voice of a comedian and the laughter of an audience he's sure doesn't exist. Once he moves past the surreality of that, and the creep factor, the comedian ends up being pretty hilarious. It takes four weeks of the comedian for his material to repeat and Tyler to realize there's a cycle at work besides the weekly schedule. Fact is, once he thinks he catches on, something throws him off, like the comedian replaced by freakin water glasses. Water glasses. Again, disem-freakin-bodied.
He never falls into a full bender, thanks to being an activated werewolf again, but, he inherits his father's alcoholism. Old Dick's temper, however, is kept at bay. When the only thing to laugh at is an inanimate object, he learns to numb the anger toward his voice-over overlord. Any early act of vandalism disappears overnight.
Tyler Lockwood is used to solitude. He's taken off by himself for months at a time, preferring his own company. Sure, some of that came from Klaus exiling him, or just plain being pissed at, like, everyone lying to him junior year - but in truth, Tyler doesn't hate being alone. The ship becomes a place of peace for him - as peaceful as some wack ass ship that switches things up every now and then can be.
"Welcome aboard! Please make your way to Guest Services."
Timing really is everything.
Tyler yanks out his headphones after a run, squirting water from his bottle into his mouth. Music he listened to in high school blares from the buds as he catches his breath.
Heading inside, he makes his way for the one bank of elevators, hitting the button.
The three tone chime kicks in, indicating a message from their captain is imminent. Not that he knows if there is a captain. The voice has already changed once. He guesses that guy ran out his contract. So to speak. He waits, with baited breath. Sometimes, it's a muster drill, when he has to show up on deck, alone, with his life jacket - just in case he needs to escape the inescapable ship to nowhere. Oh yeah, somebody has a horrible fucking sense of humor.
Instead, he hears a message he's only heard once before, when he'd ended up on the Nautilus.
New people.
Disappearing down the flight of stairs from deck 12, the elevator doors open.
It's funny how somebody he used to hate (no, despise) and avoid at every opportunity has now become such a central, even cherished, part of his life. From bitter enemies to grudging allies to genuine friends to secret lovers, although they would both likely blanch with disgust at that last term. It's not exactly just sex but it isn't particularly romantic either although sometimes Jeremy catches himself feeling almost a little wistful for more. But for the most part he's been perfectly content with their little arrangement and, while he'll never not miss his sister and their other friends, life on the road with Tyler has been incredibly fulfilling in ways that he never imagined to be possible.
Last Jeremy was aware of they were both on their way to Texas to investigate a disturbing string of supernatural murders. It was Tyler's turn to drive that day so Jeremy had made himself comfortable in the passenger seat, reclining it back as far as it would go and trying to catch a little extra sleep while the sounds of Tyler's (endearingly) shitty music softly blares from out of the speakers.
The next thing he knows, he's waking up under a cabana on what appears to be the world's largest cruise ship (not that he really has any proper frame of reference from which to compare but holy shit is this deck huge).
"Welcome aboard! Please make your way to Guest Services."
The thought that he is dreaming does occur to him but the details are too crisp, too sharp, for it to be concluded as a perfectly natural one. So it's with an incredible sense of unease and suspicion that he takes his cue from the too-cheerful voice wafting from the speakers above and heads toward what appear to be a pair of elevator doors.
There are two banks of elevators on every side of the ship, or Tyler would park himself in front of the one - if there were one side to a ship, but there's Starboard and Portside and fuck if Tyler knows where these new victims will come from.
Tyler doesn't rush down the stares. He's resigned himself to life without Jeremy Gilbert. He lived his life without Jeremy Gilbert being a part of his life for several years. The cliche would be he can't imagine his life on the road, or off, without him, but he's spent two months without him. He resigned himself to life without him. And as painful as that was at first - he pushed the pain down. He's been alone before. He's been freakin exiled. He lived without Caroline for months. (And they'd broken up.) And then he'd returned. (And she slept with Klaus.) He loved Caroline once, he loves Jeremy now - and Jeremy isn't here.
And that happens.
It's not a long walk down from deck 12 to to 7.
Reaching deck 7, he plans to cut through the Promenade, having been on the other side of the ship.
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circumvector2016-12-29 10:43 pm
[post-canon] swimming the same deep water as you is hard
And, maybe it's not fair, oversimplifying a fact of life.
It takes Scott one extra year to finish his college education. He wears his stamp of super senior proudly to undergraduates. He appreciates the checks that come from another year of TA-ing, and the several classes a semester he's asked to teach. His mom understands. She became comfortable with her son's extracurricular activities late in his high school career. How could it not effect his college career?
Deaton says that inevitably, every pack separates at least for some time - if not because of life, and responsibilities, or outside force, because that's the way nature intended it. He takes that to heart. These days Liam, Hayden, and Lydia contact him most. Stiles is as busy as he is, sometimes more. Malia is a fan of Face Time - and also Stiles, so a lot of what he gets is his best friend in the background studying - or passing by on his way out, to a seminar, or a final. It's grad school that sucks Stiles' time. Criminology is a no-brainer. And when Scott manages to get on line or on the phone with Stiles, he gets an earful of what's wrong with their justice system. Scott's proud. Immeasurably.
But, Scott is also still in school. Stiles keeps his head above water and Scott buckles. Something's got to give, and that's graduating.
Until he finally does. His mom (and dad) cry.
Veterinary school is also inevitable. With a college degree under his belt (his mom insisted), he sets his sights on veterinary school. He's accepted into the Winter semester. He takes the months leading up to finally live his life. He makes things right with Stiles, the two of them spending 72 uninterrupted (not Star Wars, Stiles) hours with one another and they manage to text at least once a day, if not hold up a real exchange. That falls to the way side consistently, but the sentiment remains and their friendship is saved.
Deaton once told Scott everything comes full circle.
He starts to believe it when life relocates his friends in the same vicinity. The East Coast, shockingly, welcomes the McCall pack. Scott and Lydia, at John's Hopkins in Maryland, with Stiles not too far in DC, and Liam having got a scholarship to University of Maryland, Hayden just nearby at Micah. Malia is the hold out, knowing why she'd move but creating a life back where they're all from. She visits, or joins them in crisis.
Scott gets an inkling that he's more open than he'd first thought in college. In hindsight, maybe he should have made it clear - that the guy he'd found a bond with after Stiles just happened to be gay, but he didn't grow up with Eric, so he is not his brother. Just a guy who actually goes with him to the gym, and keeps up with his immense appetite (he's an athlete) as well as a budding anthropologist. Their relationship is surprisingly longterm, only ending when Scott has to repeat his senior year. But, not because he repeats it, Eric makes it clear. It's proximity. By this time, Eric's been clued in - he's known for longer than he lets on - but he points out wolf patterns, and the natural (he calls it natural but Scott knows he means primal) need for well, but they'd both need.
It's Scott's most mature break-up.
Eric didn't die, or suddenly move away. They both agreed this is the right decision.
Lydia and Scott grow closer at John's Hopkins, things inevitably taking a turn for the primal, as Eric would put it - Eric had even asked how nothing had ever happened between them back in college when Lydia visited - but Lydia makes it clear nothing serious can happen between them, not because there isn't love, or, trust, but because she's not sure where she'll end up during residency. She's not the only one to come to the conclusion that taking things in a serious direction, probably wouldn't be for the best. Scott tells Stiles, anyway, because he's first and foremost a good friend.
Ironic, when Scott is his most settled, when things have fallen into place, that his world is turned upside down, literally.
The breeze kicks in, feeling both cool, and refreshing, on his skin. Stirring, he stretches out, head falling backward off the end of a deck chair. Lydia must have turned the air on. Couple that with Scott's penchant to move around in his sleep, he's not too surprised he's upside down and halfway off his bed. The slats of rubber uncomfortably settle against his back. His hand slips under one, eyes opening that second. Across the deck - of a ship, he sees other deck chairs, and sky, he sees a lot of sky. Pulling himself up to a sitting position, Scott blinks away under the sun, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. High alert kicks in and he's up in seconds, whirling around. Spotting the railing, he approaches, knowing full well what lies beyond, but he has to see it for himself. Waves crash beneath him, their sound becoming clearer.
Looking back, he takes a second, breathing in the sea air.
It's easily the most vivid dream he's ever had.
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And so, feeling almost zero regret for his decision, Isaac was able to turn his focus completely on the future. Without the ever-looming threat of the supernatural drawn in by the power of the Nemeton, living abroad in a foreign country where at first he has only the barest grasp of the language and thus not many opportunities to readily socialize, Isaac had little to do with his time but study. His grades improved rather sharply and he passed his baccalauréat scientifique with a kind of magnificent ease. After that, Mr. Chris paid his way through a highly selective Bachelor program at École Polytechnique and Isaac has since returned on a generous scholarship to pursue a Master's in Energy Environment: Science Technology and Management. It's all in English but that's little matter these days as Isaac is, by now, almost perfectly bilingual.
Honestly, it doesn't come as any kind of surprise to him when he tumbles into bed with one of his attractive male cohorts. Isaac has always known he was bi and his giant crush on Scott had persisted even after he'd started quasi-dating Allison. This guy, Augustin, has been living with him for the better part of the past year. Isaac supposes he should consider him his boyfriend as he knows that's certainly how Augustin refers to him among all of their mutual friends but the truth is that Isaac hasn't even bothered to clue him in about the whole werewolf thing and, for better or worse, doesn't really care to.
When he first comes back to a conscious state, Isaac just lays there for awhile. He can feel the gentle rocking motion of the ship atop the waves and it's almost enough to lull him back to sleep. But the sun is obnoxiously bright as is the noise of seagulls flying overhead and eventually he hauls himself up into a sitting position with a slight groan.
It's alarming how vivid every new sensation is, from the blistering heat of the sun, to the briny smell of ocean water, and the tussle of his curly mop of hair in the faint breeze. But the reality of the situation is too absurd to consider as anything more than a particularly desperate dream. How apt that he should find himself on a vessel of some kind, as if he could just sail far, far away from all of his problems.
The announcement plays overhead, sufficiently distracting him once more. Isaac pushes himself to stand, deciding to passively comply for the moment.
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Scott McCall has never been on a cruise ship before. His mother isn't made of money, and all his personal money goes to expenses, to books, to not sailing the high seas. This is the thought that permeates his brain as he waits, expecting any moment to wake up. He shouldn't be able to pull any of this up in his mind. He can count the people whose necks he's pierced on one hand and he's pretty sure, with the exception of Peter Hale, that none of them have been on a cruise ship either. After five minutes, or however long, nothing happens. He knows he has to move, go somewhere.
This could be about being a werewolf. It seems pricey (and violating) for a welcome to veterinary school. He's leaning toward werewolf. And he's leaning toward sinister as a word to describe what's happening. There's only one thing he can do to find out what the hell is going on.
He stays alert, choosing to go right. He's closer to the door. It slides open when he steps up to it. He doesn't move long enough for it to slide back, before he moves again and heads inside. The door slides behind him as he spots an electronic map on the wall -- a diagram of the ship.
The Nautilus
He scans the different names, and rooms. The deck numbers. 14 decks. He thinks about heading down to the galley on deck 2, but the image of the ocean below sticks with him. just because he's a supernatural creature does not mean he'll be able to make it anywhere in time. There's no telling how far away from shore he is.
Guest Services is on Deck 7, and, if he's reading the map right, it's below him on this side of the boat. Forget the elevator, he's creeping down the stairs, acutely aware of his surroundings and hoping for someone's familiar scent.
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In the stairwell he pauses, for the first time hearing a noise which betrays the actual physical presence of someone besides himself aboard this eerily silent ship, mysterious voice-which-could-easily-be-a-recording notwithstanding. The strong stench of salt water still burns in his nose a bit, hampering his impressive sense of smell. But he can tell that, whoever it is, is drawing steadily closer to him. Isaac slips around the corner, hiding in silence, trying to slow his own heartbeat down to something less noticeable by forcing himself to breathe in and exhale more slowly, when the hint of a figure finally makes to creep by the doorway and Isaac ambushes them with the full weight of his body.
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Passing the doorway, rather than traveling through, has him tackled. Him and the other person skidding along the floor, rolling above one another. Scott uses their momentum and tosses his assailant through the doorway into the opposite hallway. Coming to his feet, he snarled, baring his fangs and nails.
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"Scott?"
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He may be older - though barely looking it, but there's no doubt in Scott's mind, that this is Isaac Lahey.
There is no sadder statement to Scott in this moment than 'life goes on.' But, now isn't the time to rehash how many times he could've messaged Isaac, or called him, or even scrounged together money for a ticket, to visit Isaac. The most he's done is check in with Chris. After Allison things were never the same between them. Scott, Allison, and Stiles participated in that ritual and nothing was ever the same.
His heart of darkness.
Scott's eyes return to normal. As strained as things had gotten, this is still Isaac. His heavy breathing slows.
"What are you doing here?"
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What was that thing Stilinski used to say...? One's an incident, two's a coincidence... They're on their way to a pattern.
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"We still could be." Scott's dreamed about people from his childhood before, about his childhood. "But, I think you're right. I don't think this is a dream." Were they capturing werewolves? "Are you back in America?" It would take effort to kidnap Isaac from another country, let alone a country an ocean away from them. "Have you seen the others?" If Isaac was pulled in, Scott's got a bad feeling this is about him and his pack, and he doesn't know if that stretches to people like Stiles.
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"They said we should find guest services. It's on this deck." At least, then maybe they'd get answers. He looks back through the main opening. He doesn't indicate Isaac should follow - but hopefully it's clear he should. Creeping slowly, he's sure to stay aware of various sounds around them - which unfortunately amount to waves moving outside, if concentrates. Scents, however, are widespread - including Isaac's which isn't exactly what he remembers, but only because there's also a scent Isaac reeks of that Scott doesn't recognize. Now is not the time to address this, but it can't go unnoticed. He's momentarily glad Isaac has hopefully found happiness with a girl.
The guest services desk stands empty - unsurprising - save for four manila envelopes with Isaac's, Scott's, Tyler? and Jeremy's name on them.
At the desk, he exchanges a glance with Isaac.
"Should we open them?"
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"I think I'm in room 7201."
Setting the card aside, Scott unfolds the activity schedule, furrowing his brow as he reads the different activities offered. Setting that aside, Scott finds what Isaac must be reacting to. His eyes go wide.
"Are these--"
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Definitely supernatural.
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His frown deepens as he glances back down at his contract. Supposedly he's meant to work at a restaurant. "Who am I even supposed to be serving? There's like, nobody else here." They haven't seen the whole ship but he's almost completely sure of it. It's too quiet and devoid of scent.
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It's real.
"I'm teaching exercise," he starts, the word instructor standing out. To whom?
Everything is making Scott's head hurt.
"We're working on here?" It's mostly himself he's asking. Kidnapping them is one thing, but putting them to work? Again. Why. Eyes back on the paper, he frowns.
"What do you think they mean by consequences?" And who is they? "Have you seen anyone else around?"
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"No," he shakes his head, although he can't help but to glance suspiciously over his shoulder as he does. "Like I said, you're the only one." But there has to be somebody here. Piloting the ship if nothing else.
A moment later, he dangles his key from the tip of his index finger. "We should find our room." Yes, that's singular if Scott hasn't already noticed on his own that apparently they're meant to share a cabin. Which is definitely awkward for a number of reasons but at the same time Isaac is secretly relieved because with nobody else around, it's a bit creepy.
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He leads the way, again, the alpha in him emerging. Peering into the hallway on one side, he sees the span of rooms on this side of the ship. He turns and checks across the hall.
"It's this way."
He's going to get lost a lot on this ship, he already knows it. He doesn't like thinking about the days to come - not escaping. He'll settle on, for the time being.
He finds the number they need, looking to Isaac before sliding in his key card. And pulling it out. A small light beeps green. Scott hesitates, then tries the handle which doesn't budge. He furrows his brow. Trying again, he slides it in and out and this time he grabs the handle with werewolf speed, the door now opening.
"I guess we have to open the door when the light's green," he states. Taking a breath, he finally pushes the door open. It's heavy so he holds it open for Isaac as well before letting it swing shut.
He maneuvers around the bench and passes the (very nice) TV choosing to go straight. He eyes the armoire and opens what ends up being a closet door before finding himself in ... an empty room.
Ant-climactic.
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While Scott sets out on an exploration of the cabin, Isaac does some poking around of his own. He finds himself out on the veranda overlooking the endless expanse of dark ocean once more. Leaning over the rail as far as he can, he attempts to get a better look at what's on the decks further below them.
He's just about to go back inside when a blur of motion catches his eye. "Scott!"
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"Did you see something?"
He pants, catching his breath. It's been years since he's seen Isaac but the mere thought of him being in any danger sent a cold shiver down his spine. Isaac is in one piece. Scott pushes away the feeling that the breeze is nice. Screw this breeze and screw this ship.
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"So we're not alone." Which makes more sense, considering they're prisoners of some sort. "Should we go knock?" He counts down from their window. He should know which door they're behind, at least.
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"We should keep an eye on them. If they're living in a room, maybe they're like us." Prisoners, not wolves. Hopefully. "Come on," he says, leading Isaac back out of the room. He even holds the door open for him, like a gentleman.
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He and Isaac go back in the direction they came, heading for the stairs and going one flight (flight? deck, he reminds himself it's a deck) down. Isaac had been peering right below, which means whoever else is here lives in the cabin underneath theirs. Scott waits, listening for movement.
"Hear that?" The handle of the door being pulled down and the door opening. He listens for footsteps toward them, but they grow fainter. "They're moving to the other side of the ship. If we follow her right now, she'll see us. Or, hear us." He thinks. "What if we go down the other hallway, see where she goes from that side?"
Is it worth a try?
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Overall, Buffy's simply OK, preferring to ride the line between wary but accepting - mostly because of the consequences that have befallen her. While she's not lying to herself, she's tabling her unease, despite it always being at the back of her mind.
This morning, she's running late to meet Tyler at the gym, though not sure he'd care one way or the other, so she takes her time. Preferring to get her heart rate up before the gym, she jogs down the empty hallway. Not one for having been on a ship before, she assumes had this been a regular, full ship, she wouldn't be able to do this. (There's a lot like that she takes advantage of. Cute fruity drinks. Free food. Empty facilities, mostly.)
Emerging from the other side of the ship, she pauses, bending over. Knees up again, she checks her pulse. She may be away from everyone she holds dear, but she still keeps up her training.
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Actually, the more that he stares at her, the more that he's sure she's like them -- a fellow passenger, not someone in any kind of official capacity as it were. Although she looks awfully settled in her morning routine. Isaac's forehead creases as he contemplates what that might mean for Scott and him going forward. Exactly how long has this woman been here? What does she know about their captors? Has she ever tried escaping? So many questions bubble up inside of him and he's aware with a frustrating kind of certainty that the only way he's going to get them answered is if he asks. But asking will reveal their presence, which is why he's looking toward Scott again for guidance. Even after all this time, he's still the Alpha and Isaac is content to follow his lead.
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"Come on," he says, probably for the tenth time that day as they crept up to the other corner, watching her wait for one elevator. She steps on, hitting the button before casually stretching as the doors close. Moving quickly, Scott hits the button, the other elevator doors welcoming them inside.
"She's probably going to the gym," he says, peering at the deck guide in the elevator. Scott may be too busy to realize the elevator they've entered is glass. Scott hits the button, the elevator coming to life and moving upward.
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Her back may be turned for the time being but both elevators arrive at the same floor at the same time, and she does turn when the doors open.
Oh. 'New people,' is what Buffy conveys with her eyes. It was only a matter of time. The blonde steps out of the elevator and approaches the one Isaac and Scott are in.
"I rode the elevator up and down for an entire day. Besides the view of the Promenade, there's not all that much to see." Except, now them. "I promise no danger lies beyond this elevator." Should they behave/have powers. But, in the general sense, she means.
Scott takes the lead. She does come off as friendly. Not that that means everything. Or anything. But, what choice to they have. His hand comes up to stop the elevator doors for closing. "Scott."
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Of course, she could be luring them into a false sense of security; why should they take her word for it? But his feeling that she's stuck here, just like them, rather than some kind of scheming mastermind is only amplified by this whole encounter and so a bit grudgingly he permits himself to relax his guard just a bit.
At the very least, she isn't likely to suddenly attack them.
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"Buffy." These two were strange, not that she could blame them.
To Scott, he thought he should say his name, thought maybe she'd said hers. But no such luck. He tries his best to stay on his feet, to make sense of everything as it comes, and maybe to take the lead despite Isaac not being pack for quite some time.
Their stalemate in and out of the elevator had to come to an end some time. So, Scott steps out and waves one hand.
"We're friends." Not that she asked. "Do you know where we are?"
"If by 'where we are' you mean an interdimensional trip traveling nowhere, then, yep, five verses in. I am well-versed. And probably a refrain or two." What a time for a demonic musical memory to pop into her mind. She should be glad she's not dancing and burning.
"But, you don't know where it's going." Do inter dimensional ships 'go' anywhere? To dimensions? He wishes Stiles were here because at least he'd be able to follow her.
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His lips purse together as he tries to make sense of them. Of course, it's not as though she's speaking some kind of word salad. They're all technically understood, like any normal sentence. The problem comes when he tries to extract any kind of deeper meaning.
A ship. Yes, so much as they've gathered. The 'inter-dimensional' part is where things clearly become tricky. He wants to challenge that statement altogether but in his heart of hearts he has a sinking feeling that, while seemingly nonsensical, it's the best explanation they're likely to get beyond 'this is all just one big, weird fucking fever dream.' (Honestly, he doesn't even want to deal with the implications of dreaming so realistically about Scott, to the point where he can literally feel the heat radiating off the other man's - incredibly fit - body).
The ins and outs, if they're to be had, will be the more valuable part in all of this. So he cocks his head to the side questioningly, waiting to see if she volunteers anymore information.
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Don't get Scott wrong. He's trying to follow her run-on sentences. He really is.
"So..."
"Yeah. Look, normally, I'm the go-to-gal for this, but, even this is a little above my pay grade." And she says that so apologetically. "How about, you two -- go over the rest of the ship - unpack." Which warrants the biggest beat. "Your clothes - they're in suit cases outside your rooms by now. I will be gym-lady, and then probably Windjammer lady - and then maybe pool-lady when not working in Johnny Rockets. If you need me. Or, anyone." She really is as apologetic as she sounds, she just hasn't been the one having to do this. "And, if you need anything -- guest services."
She smiles.
"And that's the spiel. I will work on it, polish it off, fine tune a few of the ... harder things to explain and quit while I am not even a little bit ahead." And she's off, calling out a, "Sorry!"
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She doesn't stick around afterwards, which Isaac isn't sure whether he feels relieved or annoyed by. But it is what it is. They'll make do on their own for now. Maybe one of the others that she mentioned -- Isaac remembers about 3 names -- will be more helpful, provided that they can find any of them.
The Nautilus is very enormous and it seems only by some miracle that they'd happened across Buffy so soon.
Sighing, Isaac rubs the nape of his neck and darts a glance around. "I guess... We might as well do what she said and keep taking a look around." If they're going to be stuck here for any length of time, then that should be a priority.
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He looks back up at the map of the decks, trying to decide what to do or where to go next. The gym is behind them. That's good to know.
"Is there anywhere you want to check out first?" Because, he's at a loss. He doesn't really want to go back to guest services. Or, their room just yet. It seems right to ask Isaac what he wants. It's something he never really did. He took the young wolf for granted. He lost him to Allison - even when under the same roof. And then he lost him to France. Not that Isaac was his to lose. But, he'd treated him badly. He'd given in to his jealousy while also pursuing his own possibility and still finding fault in what Isaac did. He missed tacos. And late night talks. And motorcycling.
He misses Isaac.
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It's as good an idea as any that they've had. It might be good to get more used to the smells outside. Maybe they'd spot the shore, or another interdimensional ship.
The sliding doors near them lead back to the deck.
The ocean sits calm on their side of the ship. Deck 12 overlooks Deck 11's pools - but no other "guests." Scott pauses, leaning over the railing. He closes his eyes, trying to hear anything else. "It's quiet. I think we're the only ones out here right now."
[ roadies ] between raising hell and saving grace
At one time, he cursed the invisible crew, the polite captain who speaks up when he wants, and the stateroom attendant who manages to make his damn bed after a quick morning swim.
It takes fifty days for Tyler to resign himself to his stay on board The Nautilus.
It takes less than one day to learn the name of the ship that had kidnapped him: The Nautilus. The ship's channel on the TV advertises the amenities, launching full scale testimonials to the activities it features - from people Tyler's pretty sure he's never met in person. Except, he swears one of them is Johnny Depp. Every evening, the list of the next day's activities appears on his bed, along with a towel wrapped in the shape of an animal. Most of his wardrobe consists of ship brand shirts, shorts and other apparel with a few articles of clothing from home that materialize inside his closet. He realizes participating gets him rewards. Small ones - never Jeremy, or Matt, but an iPod of music he likes - and one morning the gym finally let him in, so that gives him something to do. The food isn't bad. Breakfast's better than the dinner except for lobster night, Thursday nights.
The creepiest shit he's encountered is the midnight comedy show featuring the disembodied voice of a comedian and the laughter of an audience he's sure doesn't exist. Once he moves past the surreality of that, and the creep factor, the comedian ends up being pretty hilarious. It takes four weeks of the comedian for his material to repeat and Tyler to realize there's a cycle at work besides the weekly schedule. Fact is, once he thinks he catches on, something throws him off, like the comedian replaced by freakin water glasses. Water glasses. Again, disem-freakin-bodied.
He never falls into a full bender, thanks to being an activated werewolf again, but, he inherits his father's alcoholism. Old Dick's temper, however, is kept at bay. When the only thing to laugh at is an inanimate object, he learns to numb the anger toward his voice-over overlord. Any early act of vandalism disappears overnight.
Tyler Lockwood is used to solitude. He's taken off by himself for months at a time, preferring his own company. Sure, some of that came from Klaus exiling him, or just plain being pissed at, like, everyone lying to him junior year - but in truth, Tyler doesn't hate being alone. The ship becomes a place of peace for him - as peaceful as some wack ass ship that switches things up every now and then can be.
Timing really is everything.
Tyler yanks out his headphones after a run, squirting water from his bottle into his mouth. Music he listened to in high school blares from the buds as he catches his breath.
Heading inside, he makes his way for the one bank of elevators, hitting the button.
The three tone chime kicks in, indicating a message from their captain is imminent. Not that he knows if there is a captain. The voice has already changed once. He guesses that guy ran out his contract. So to speak. He waits, with baited breath. Sometimes, it's a muster drill, when he has to show up on deck, alone, with his life jacket - just in case he needs to escape the inescapable ship to nowhere. Oh yeah, somebody has a horrible fucking sense of humor.
Instead, he hears a message he's only heard once before, when he'd ended up on the Nautilus.
New people.
Disappearing down the flight of stairs from deck 12, the elevator doors open.
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Last Jeremy was aware of they were both on their way to Texas to investigate a disturbing string of supernatural murders. It was Tyler's turn to drive that day so Jeremy had made himself comfortable in the passenger seat, reclining it back as far as it would go and trying to catch a little extra sleep while the sounds of Tyler's (endearingly) shitty music softly blares from out of the speakers.
The next thing he knows, he's waking up under a cabana on what appears to be the world's largest cruise ship (not that he really has any proper frame of reference from which to compare but holy shit is this deck huge).
The thought that he is dreaming does occur to him but the details are too crisp, too sharp, for it to be concluded as a perfectly natural one. So it's with an incredible sense of unease and suspicion that he takes his cue from the too-cheerful voice wafting from the speakers above and heads toward what appear to be a pair of elevator doors.
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Tyler doesn't rush down the stares. He's resigned himself to life without Jeremy Gilbert. He lived his life without Jeremy Gilbert being a part of his life for several years. The cliche would be he can't imagine his life on the road, or off, without him, but he's spent two months without him. He resigned himself to life without him. And as painful as that was at first - he pushed the pain down. He's been alone before. He's been freakin exiled. He lived without Caroline for months. (And they'd broken up.) And then he'd returned. (And she slept with Klaus.) He loved Caroline once, he loves Jeremy now - and Jeremy isn't here.
And that happens.
It's not a long walk down from deck 12 to to 7.
Reaching deck 7, he plans to cut through the Promenade, having been on the other side of the ship.