Adam had heard stories of his father. Many children had, but not many of the stories Adam heard about Hypnos were good. It wasn’t that he was bad, it was more that he just...came across as if he didn’t care. And, that’s exactly what Adam expected to happen. Yes, the man brought him to camp to save him from being placed into the foster system, but was that method really for the better? Adam grew up without a mother’s love and without a father’s guidance, the only people he had were the ones who were in the Hermes cabin (up until he and his other siblings finally were given a cabin of their own). Hypnos wouldn’t care about Adam, he knew he wouldn’t, but he still wanted to meet the man. Just once, just once to ask him why.
However, finding the God of sleep? Wasn’t as easy a feat as he thought it would be. Searching high and low for the God, Adam was slowly exhausting places where he might be hiding. And, after an hour, the blond finally found him snoozing with a hat over his face. The sight didn’t surprise him much, seeing as he’d probably do the exact same thing on this kind of day if the anxiety that was coursing it’s way through his veins wasn’t building with each pump of blood.
“Ahem.”
No answer. Again, no surprise. He was in a deep slumber, so, doing what he knew would be the only way to actually contact him, Adam let himself lie down on a patch of grass and slipped his eyes shut. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to drift off and it was then that the power he was trying to access finally unlocked itself. Astral projection was a great thing, but something that he used when he was worried about someone or when he couldn’t even help it, sometimes things just happen and you wind up in someone else’s dream.
Zoning in, Adam looked around to see a lush beach and his father surrounded by what looked to be at least seven girls. Typical fod a God. Approaching the group, Adam cleared his throat yet again and felt that same pang of anxiety rush through him as the red eyed vixens shot daggers at him. If looks could kill-- looks that weren’t real, that was.
“...Oh. Right. You. Uh, ladies, if you wouldn’t mind.”
That word. That ‘you’ is something that made Adam feel uneasy. Not ‘my son’ not ‘hey, kiddo’-- just...’you’. Nevertheless, Adam kept face and watched the girls walk off to sit at what looked to be a bar on the sand. “This better be a good reason for interrupting. Did you see the action I was just about to get in on?”
“I...I just wanted to meet my dad, that’s all. You know, you’re here for that whole Olympics thing, and I just thought that-- you know, since you...you brought me to camp, and all that you might...”
Stopping himself, Adam cleared his throat again. The eyes of his father baring down on him was something he’d never thought he’d have to face, and it was something that was making him feel like running for the metaphorical hills. “It’s just...I thought that you might want to meet me too.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Whatever. But not right now, right now? Babe town is calling.”
“They’re not real, dad.” Adam piped up, his eyes still focusing on the yellow sand that was burrowing its way through the spaces between his toes. “I am. I’m-- I’m actually just beside you in the real world. If you--”
“Later. Like I said, I’ve got chicks to score with.” Hypnos’ words came out with a wave of the hand as he went back to hang around his dream girls.
There was no point, there was no point at all. He didn’t care about Adam, of course he didn’t. He was a God. Still, the fact that he knew now was just something that made his heart ache. And, for the first time in forever, Adam wanted to wake up from a dream. So, slipping away, the son of Hypnos awoke in his own body and sped his way back to his cabin at the speed of light.
This had been the longest he’d went without actually recharging his batteries. All day, he’d been slipping in and out of consciousness, his brain seeking rest where it could and Adam not even knowing that it was happening. All he felt was his eyes stinging beyond belief. Insomnia hit him out of nowhere and refused to budge for a little while, but this was out of hand. What he needed, what he needed more than anything on Earth, was to just sleep.
Wandering around camp, Adam bumped into people left right and centre. He’d received comments about how he needed to look where he was going, how he was being rude, but really? He just didn’t take anything in. It was like a zombie walking around the grounds and what he craved was his pillow. Adam was making his way back to the Hypnos cabin, being stopped a few times by campers to be reminded that he did, in fact, look tired. All he could say back was “Thanks,” in the most monotonous voice that he could muster up. Taking in no information at all, Adam could feel his eyes drooping more and more with each step he took.
He didn’t even know where he was, the talking of people just became a gargled mess in his head that he couldn’t even process. Facial expressions became unrecognisable and the world around him started to blur and become lucid. Adam could feel his feet starting to stagger and arms coming out of nowhere, forcing him to support himself on another camper. There was a faint ‘Holy shit, are you okay?’ From somewhere, but all he could do was nod before stumbling his way through more cabins. And, it was then, that he couldn’t go on any further.
Ankles buckled and knees hit dirt first before the rest of his body. Adam had fallen unconscious before his head hit it’s resting place and it was then that his body finally got the rest that it needed, that it craved. If he’d been awake a moment longer, he was sure that he’d wake up with one hell of a headache. Still, Adam’s body was finally getting what it needed, and that was to sleep. Sure, he’d probably wake up in a bed after having been moved back to the Hypnos cabin, but even there-- in the dirt, in the middle of two buildings, his body was actually resting.
He doesn’t understand how these cops can
possibly have so much time on their hands
that they literally have nothing better to do
than to spy on Stiles and Katherine and see
if they’re actually dating. Really, aren’t there
some a c t u a l crimes happening anywhere?
she'd wrapped herself in one of his ugly plaid
shirts for aesthetic appeal. if she was supposed
to be the doting girlfriend she had to play the
part right? it wasn't that his scent had an odd
comfort, or even that she looked way better in it
than he did -- though she did. it was just to make
them look more...domestic.
Still, he has to keep up appearances, which is
why he’s standing in the kitchen with his dad’s
apron slung on, squinting at the recipe book
that was once his mother’s and mumbling out
instructions on what spices to add to the sauce
that simmers away on the stovetop, too focused
to notice the footsteps descending the stairs.
the scent of ripened tomato and a sprig of basil, riled her sense,
she'd wrapped herself in one of his ugly plaid
shirts for aesthetic appeal. if she was supposed
to be the doting girlfriend she had to play the
part right? it wasn't that his scent had an odd
comfort, or even that she looked way better in it
than he did -- though she did. it was just to make
them look more...domestic.
the scent of ripened tomato and a sprig of basil,
riled her senses, curiosity leading her downstairs,
clad in his shirt & little else. the cop car was nested
outside his house, a small wave in her direction as
she made her appearance known. hands wove
around stiles midriff, nose grazing the back of his
neck.
"smells good. who'd you pay to cook for
you & let you take the credit?"
Fingers drum relentlessly on the plastic table top, Katherine's trying to hide her disgust at the women helping her at the front desk. Her lip gloss is cheap and smeared, her eyeshadow glaring and completely not her color. Dirty blonde strands broken and dead at the ends, but the worst part is—
—She’s taking forever to find Katherine's file.
All she wants is to get a head-start on her new life, with her new persona, but all the information she needs is in that file. Who her case assignment agent will be, her new identity, a folder chockfull of all the lies she gets to tell and weave for the foreseeable future. Then there’s that grimy little nightmare burning a hole in the back of her skull. The one where Klaus comes back, hellbent on his twisted view of revenge where they rattle her phone like her bones and chase her down until she’s haggard and broken and—
“Miss? Miss.”
She hadn’t realized how hard and how loud her fingers had gotten, like the constant drumming of her heartbeat in her chest, threatening to break through the cage of ribs. She wiped thoughts of her cyber stalker from her head, knowing if she continued to dwell she’d start on that nasty habit of chewing her nails once again.
And they were painted the loveliest color of teal today.
Still, she was pleased to see that the woman finally had her folder once again, waving the manilla in front of her face. “Thank you.God, took you all long enough.” Maybe it wasn’t wise to sass the people helping her, but Katherine was still Katherine, witness protection or not. Rolling her eyes she swiveled on a heel to sit back down in the waiting room for her case agent to greet her and to rifle through the contents of her newest web of lies.
the question is dripping with tangible excitement. his heartbeat
sputtering and a deviousness that had been bred by stiles' hand
alone, the palpable yearning for blood on his hands and the sense
of accomplishment and pride it brought him. practically salivating
for the next hit, the next move.
guttural growl of annoyance, he makes his presence known
by throwing open the door of her apartment, --- pleasantries
& manners long gone with the adjustment of being neighbors.
and taking each others things without asking.
beryl hues race around the room until they settle on the petite female,
addressing the shirt she's wearing, his shirt, a nice one too. hugo boss
with a high thread count.
❝ Do you even know how easily that material wrinkles?
I told you to stay away from the designer clothes. ❞
god he aches. his bones are weary with the restlessness of
his mind. his heart is heavy with the glassy eyes of those he's
slaughtered. his body is fighting him for every breath & he
knows that it's nowhere near close to over. he can smell void
all around him. inside of him. like a sick & twisted marionette.
