[ the more derek talks about basically every cheesy horror movie plot, the more creeped out stiles starts to feel and the more stiles just wants to be out of the caves. it's not that he's scared - though that is a small part of it, and that's fine, because it's okay to be unsettled by the unknown - but moreso that if, for whatever reason, there does happen to be some kind of cave monster lurking in the dark water of the hot springs, or some crazed serial killer everyone seems to have forgotten about lurking around in the hollow caverns - stiles is completely unprepared to face either one of those things. he doesn't have his bat, he doesn't have any mountain ash (as if that would be useful against anything other than derek), he doesn't have the gun he picked up off a guard back in fort harmony when everyone was in a mad rush for freedom.
he's completely defenseless, and he doesn't like the thought of not being able to protect derek even half of as much as derek could protect him if everything were to suddenly go to shit right now.
but it's probably fine. there probably isn't a massive, ugly squid-creature waiting at the bottom of the spring. probably. hopefully.
stiles does his best to ignore the unease settling in his gut. he hadn't really given too much thought to the candles, figuring it was just - the easiest source of transportable light outside of a cellphone, but— but why not just use a cell phone? turn on the light, build a solid, dry base with a folded up piece of clothing, prop it up against a rock. stiles can't imagine a couple scattered candles would do much to alleviate the heavy, pitch black darkness. a torch, maybe, but a handful of candles?
stiles wets his lips, holding his light steady and static now, his fingers absently pinching some of the material of derek's shirt by his shoulder, rubbing it between his fingertips as he thinks. ]
... I don't know. It seems kind of weird, doesn't it? Like - why candles? And they're all mostly burned down to the base, too. If people are coming down here that often, why not bring a more practical light source, like battery powered lanterns, or just. A couple cell phones - turn on the flashlights, set them up in a dry-ish place.
[ stiles breathes out through his nose, idly chewing at the corner of his mouth in lieu of chewing at his nails because neither of his hands are really free enough for him to do so. ]
It could just be - I don't know, people trying to be romantic. Candlelight. Privacy. But something— it doesn't— I just get this... weird feeling.
[ a feeling he can't really explain or back up with actual, unquestionable evidence to support his unease, but it's similar to every other time he's had a bad feeling about something. stiles doesn't want to brush it off, but he doesn't want to fuel his paranoia, either, if paranoia is all it turns out to be. ]
It just seems... strange, that there's nothing else but the candles. Even organized people are forgetful sometimes, and I could barely see even with what little light I had - but you'd think there'd be something someone might have overlooked when picking up their things to head out, right? Like - maybe jewelry they took off, or a sock, or wrappers from a snack they brought down with them. Matches. A lighter.
[ it's probably nothing. stiles is probably making something out of nothing right now, spurred on by derek's recount of every shitty horror movie. he lets go of where he's pinching at derek's shirt, only just realizing he's plucking at it, and lets his fingers rest gently over the curve of his shoulder instead. ]
It's — it's probably nothing. Horny teenagers sneaking around, too worried about their phones getting water damage. Not everyone can buy a bag of rice, I guess.
no subject
he's completely defenseless, and he doesn't like the thought of not being able to protect derek even half of as much as derek could protect him if everything were to suddenly go to shit right now.
but it's probably fine. there probably isn't a massive, ugly squid-creature waiting at the bottom of the spring. probably. hopefully.
stiles does his best to ignore the unease settling in his gut. he hadn't really given too much thought to the candles, figuring it was just - the easiest source of transportable light outside of a cellphone, but— but why not just use a cell phone? turn on the light, build a solid, dry base with a folded up piece of clothing, prop it up against a rock. stiles can't imagine a couple scattered candles would do much to alleviate the heavy, pitch black darkness. a torch, maybe, but a handful of candles?
stiles wets his lips, holding his light steady and static now, his fingers absently pinching some of the material of derek's shirt by his shoulder, rubbing it between his fingertips as he thinks. ]
... I don't know. It seems kind of weird, doesn't it? Like - why candles? And they're all mostly burned down to the base, too. If people are coming down here that often, why not bring a more practical light source, like battery powered lanterns, or just. A couple cell phones - turn on the flashlights, set them up in a dry-ish place.
[ stiles breathes out through his nose, idly chewing at the corner of his mouth in lieu of chewing at his nails because neither of his hands are really free enough for him to do so. ]
It could just be - I don't know, people trying to be romantic. Candlelight. Privacy. But something— it doesn't— I just get this... weird feeling.
[ a feeling he can't really explain or back up with actual, unquestionable evidence to support his unease, but it's similar to every other time he's had a bad feeling about something. stiles doesn't want to brush it off, but he doesn't want to fuel his paranoia, either, if paranoia is all it turns out to be. ]
It just seems... strange, that there's nothing else but the candles. Even organized people are forgetful sometimes, and I could barely see even with what little light I had - but you'd think there'd be something someone might have overlooked when picking up their things to head out, right? Like - maybe jewelry they took off, or a sock, or wrappers from a snack they brought down with them. Matches. A lighter.
[ it's probably nothing. stiles is probably making something out of nothing right now, spurred on by derek's recount of every shitty horror movie. he lets go of where he's pinching at derek's shirt, only just realizing he's plucking at it, and lets his fingers rest gently over the curve of his shoulder instead. ]
It's — it's probably nothing. Horny teenagers sneaking around, too worried about their phones getting water damage. Not everyone can buy a bag of rice, I guess.