first case; IM/action

[hypercompetent]

[ Stiles Stilinski has been at camp for a long time now. You could even call him a veteran. He’s seen and participated in every prank known to man, eaten enough dinners to satisfy a lifetime of want for delicious nymph cooked food, and gotten his ass kicked backwards and forwards at the training grounds. So you’d think, having been around the track a few times, he wouldn’t fall, literally, for something like a hole that someone dug in the ground and covered.

But because he’s Stiles, and Stiles only has awareness of maybe two of his limbs at a time, the teenager is currently in a hole. He’d tripped and landed face first in the dirt, something no one really wants on their first day of camp for the summer, and it looks like Stiles isn’t going to be getting out of here anytime soon. So he pulls a drachma out of his pocket, squirts his water bottle in the sunlight, and flings the coin into it, saying the offering at record speed. ]

Is this how we’re starting this year’s prank wars?! Because one, lame, and two, I can’t believe you assholes started without me.  [ He fidgets and looks around the small hole—the vision of the iris message is decidedly squished because of the, uh, cramped space. Stiles is covered and dirt and he has a split lip from the fall, but otherwise he looks unharmed, if not a little irritated. ]

One, it is officially on. On like Donkey Kong. And two, someone should come help me or I’m going to levitate out of here, and that’s not going to be pretty. [ Or possible. But no one has to know that. The message fades as he runs out of water, and the last thing you hear is a loud come on, I wasn’t done! before it’s gone for good. ]