all_inclusive | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Where the universe is concerned, Olaf doesn't generally question its choices. Bad things happen. Good things happen. Strange things happen, but usually it all fits together in the larger pieces of the puzzle. It's why he doesn't really do so much more than shrug when instead of walking into Mike's bar, he walks into a party in full swing where he doesn't recognize a single guest.

It's not like this is the first time it's happened to Olaf. Generally, him recognizing someone in a crowd full of people is usually a start. Still, he has learned to go with the stranger events in the universe and no one's died as a result of this little left turn, so he grabs the joint he'd tucked away behind his ear and drifts into the throng of people, observing the summer-like nature of the party from the vibrant drinks to the decorations to the clothes everyone's wearing. Really, this could very well still be Auckland for all he knows and whatever he took earlier had been laced stronger than usual, but Olaf's sort of getting the feeling there's more to it than that.

With no shoes and a Hawaiian shirt fit for a king, Olaf feels like he fits right into the breezy, summer theme of the party around him. He might not know how he got here, but Olaf's never turned down a good party. This one holds a great deal of promise.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Time's been fragmented. It could be hours, it could've been minutes, but Isaac's not entirely sure how he got from there to here except that he'd come to Scott's house with bag in hand because he had nowhere else to go and he had no one else. Erica's gone, Derek doesn't want him, and his father is gone. He has no one and the moment Isaac stops to think about it, all he hears is the cacophony of glass shattering next to his head.

His shirt is starting to get itchy and he picks the wet fabric from off his chest, grabbing hold of the nearest person he sees -- at first, he sees red hair and thinks Lydia, but a deep inhalation of the air around her proves it isn't. "Who are you?" he demands, other hand gripping his duffel bag with all his worldly belongings in it.

Despite being only sixteen, April O'Neil typically thought of herself as being pretty darned mature. She'd had to take care of her dad after they lost Mom, and that really changed a person. Yeah, her PJs had flowers on them, but her walls weren't plastered with pictures of boys like most of the girls she knew, and she spent more time training to be a ninja than on Facebook.

Mature, and disciplined. That was her.

She was not, however, often (or ever) faced with a real human boy who looked like he'd gotten lost on his way from a supermodel photoshoot. Her instinct had been to wench free of the hand on her arm, but as she turned, she faltered. Holy cow, that guy was pretty.

In her head, Master Splinter reminded her of being taken off guard by the enemy. Well, if that included gorgeous guys in wet t-shirts, she guessed she was doomed to fail that lesson.

"Who are you?" she countered, finally wrenching her arm free. "And why are you sniffing me?"

"You're not Lydia," is what he has to say about the sniffing. He lets go of her about a second too late -- when she's already pulled away from him and now he feels bad; on the heels of what happened with Allison in the janitor's closet, Isaac's running somewhat touchy when it comes to hurting people. "I'm Isaac," he says, running his hand down his wet shirt to try and make it into a smooth movement, like he didn't just have that hand gripping her wrist.

Shit, did he hurt her? He tries to get a better look at her wrist to see whether he grabbed too hard without realizing and he hopes, hopes so hard, that she's okay. "I'm uh, I'm lost."

"Welcome to the club," April replied, wanting to scoff but coming off uncertain instead. She got it, she did; she'd only been here a few hours herself. Still, grabbing hold of a stranger wasn't exactly the best way to get somebody to help you.

She looked the guy—Isaac—over with a faint frown, pointedly ignoring the way his shirt clung to his abs. It was possible that she was annoyed with herself more than she was him, for letting herself be grabbed.

She sighed, and let it go.

"I'm April. Did you try to get back to where you came from yet?"

He hangs his head at the suggestion, something caught in his throat that might be an explanation that even if he did go back to where he came from, it's not like there's a home waiting for him. Instead of saying anything, he hefts up his bag and rolls his shoulders like he can roll away the rejection. "I don't think there'd be an open door. I was on my way to a friend's house."

Except, this looks like a hotel and it'd be a place to stay. "Does this place have space, do you think?"

The entire experience of finding herself here and everything that came with it naturally had April on edge. Everything about the place said it was safe, but looks could deceive. People were legitimately trying to find her and kidnap her, just like they'd done her dad, and she shouldn't have been trusting anyone. Not really. Especially not some random boy who had grabbed her out of nowhere.

But Splinter had told her to trust her intuition, that it made her special. And there wasn't anything about this guy that felt remotely like a threat.

"Yeah," she replied after a moment's hesitation, and nodded. "Come on, I'll show you. They let people have rooms for free, it's crazy."

Isaac tightens his grip on the duffel and hefts it a little closer to himself. It's not like he had a lot to begin with in his life, but it's sort of depressing that it's come down to this; being able to fit his whole life into one bag. "Where are we, anyway? Beacon Hills? Somewhere outside it?" he asks, seeing as figuring out where he is seems like the next logical step.

"Uh, sorry, but I don't know where that is," April replied over her shoulder as she wound them through the crowd toward the lobby. "I'm guessing no, though. It's definitely not New York, I can tell you that. I didn't absorb much when I first got here, but if I'm understanding correctly, we're in an alternate universe."

Only after she'd said this did it occur to her that such a prospect might seem outlandish to someone else. Even if that someone was a damp supermodel.

"Um, they can explain at the front desk," she hastily added.

Isaac tips his head to the side, trying to fathom the idea of an alternate universe, but as Stiles would say, hair grows on his face and disappears a moment later. What's an alternate universe to worry about? "Are you from New York, then?" he asks, happy to move off the topic of himself so he doesn't have to think about how crappy his week's been.

"New York City, yeah," April confirmed with a nod as she lead Isaac through the cavernous lobby. To think, there were people who lived here and got used to it. She couldn't even imagine that. If there was a place diametrically opposite to the sewer she'd arrived from, this was it.

"Sorry I don't have any better answers for you," she continued. "The truth is that I've only been here a few hours myself, and this mostly calm demeanor?" She made a sweeping motion to herself. "A total lie. I am freaking out inside- Ah. Here."

They'd made the front desk, and the woman behind it turned a friendly smile on the both of them. It was a completely normal, non-creepy smile, and that fact should have comforted April more than it did.

"Hi, this is Isaac, he just got here and needs a place to…" April faltered, looking back at Isaac. "Dry off."

He nods his head, as if to say that's cool, that's a pretty awesome place, and it's one he'll never get to. Sometimes Derek has (had) stories about New York City, but Isaac guesses he won't hear them anymore, not if he's done something wrong to get him kicked out. He lingers behind April when she talks to the person at the desk, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "Hey," he says, suddenly way more attentive. "If it's a different place, do you think that means it's a different day, too?"

He needs to get a hold of a calendar and figure out the next full moon, just in case.

"Might be, yeah," April replied, since Isaac seemed more comfortable talking to her than the woman manning the desk. "It was for me, anyway."

She directed his attention to the sign behind the desk, which listed day and month and current time, but no year, which seemed strange at first, but had begun to make a weird sort of sense after she'd been here awhile.

"Have an important appointment?"

"Not exactly," Isaac says, his attention boring straight into that calendar as he pays attention to the little moons underneath the dates. He should be fine for a couple of weeks, but if he doesn't know where he is, then who's to say his anchor will work the same as before. "I've got school, though," he says. "And cross-country meets."

He curls his fingers tighter against the bag and looks at April again, wondering why they're here. "What were you doing right before you got here, again?" he asks, wondering if maybe there's some common thread. This is Stiles and Lydia's area. Isaac sort of does as he's told.

April faltered a tick, and then shrugged. "Nothing important," she replied. "I'd been on the internet, and I got up to use the bathroom, but shocker, the bathroom was actually a swanky hotel."

This was all true enough. She had been on the internet, and she had gone to the bathroom. She'd just also been doing it in a secret sewer lair on a break from training to become a ninja.

"You should try your door again," she suggested, and the woman behind the desk agreed with a nod.

Isaac doesn't want to think about what it'd mean if he tried the door and it didn't work. After what happened tonight with Derek, after the closet with Allison, he's not entirely sure he could take another fracture like that (even if it was only a minor blow). "Maybe later," he says, wishing that Scott were here or Stiles or Deaton or someone who'd know something.

Actually, that's a lie. Right now, Isaac would be happy for that warm bed and change of clothes. "No one's expecting me, anyway," he adds.

You didn't have be a mind-reader to infer that "no one's expecting me" translated to "nobody cares if I'm there," and when combined with the way Isaac looked like a wounded puppy, it was just about the saddest thing April had ever heard.

"That's good, because you might get a really awesome room," April replied, smiling brightly in an attempt to buoy him. "Apparently you never know what you'll get. Mine was a totally sweet dojo last I checked."

"Third floor," the woman behind the desk informed them. "You won't need a key. Good luck, and enjoy your stay."

"Come on," April said, and afforded the woman a brief wave before seizing Isaac by the arm and tugging him toward the stairs.

It's kind of horrible, but Isaac doesn't know where he is, only just found out what day it was, but already it's better than home because it's a roof over his head when he's just lost one. It's not like Derek's new apartment was that swanky, anyway; mostly just a step up from the abandoned hovel in the woods. "So, what," Isaac asks, when they get away from the front desk and head to the stairs, "Are people throwing down in your room when you're not there? Or is it more of a private dojo?"

"I guess it's possible that there were ninjas hiding under the bathroom sink, but it seemed pretty private to me," April replied with a grin. This was a lie: She'd checked beneath the bathroom sink, and there had only been extra towels and toilet paper.

"I've been doing some martial arts training at home, so I guess the place picked up on that. I just hope it doesn't mean I'll be stuck here a long time."

The scoff Isaac gives is pretty devoid of anything. If this place can somehow pick up on your thoughts and your current living situation and it can pick up on what you've been doing at home, then he is not looking forward to the broken glass and the broken pipes and the general mess his life seems to keep falling into. "Stuck?" he echoes. "Wait, you can't leave?" he asks; not for his sake, but when that full moon rolls around, he kind of doesn't want a lot of people around.

He might have control, but if he got here, then the alphas can get here and what happens then? They've nearly killed him more than once, already.

"Apparently not right now, I can't," April replied, her smile tense as she swallowed. "But they say it's different for everybody. That's why I kept harping on you trying the door."

When she shrugged, the movement was a little stiff, as if she were forcing herself to stay nonchalant.

"And it's probably temporary anyway, so you know. The way my stomach wants to tie up in anxious knots about it is probably pointless, and I'll laugh about it later."

He feels guilty about not trying, even though he still doesn't want to know where it would lead; maybe Beacon Hills and maybe it'll put him right back in the middle of a storm. Who knows? "We could try," he offers, because there's a part of him that's always going to want to avoid conflict like this, the old lessons his father beat into his skull. "My door, any door. If you want?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only