![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Whoops. Sorry. [ he doesn't look or sound very apologetic, though. ]
Any way I can make it up to you?
Any way I can make it up to you?
[ She gives a little chuckle as she settles back down to rest her head on his chest ]
I don't know if you have the energy to make it up to me right now.
I don't know if you have the energy to make it up to me right now.
[ he goes back to idly tracing the tattoos twisting up her arm, and he can't help the stupid grin that appears on his face.
(He's falling hard and fast, and he really hopes this doesn't end i a big, fiery explosion like his last long term relationship did.
And then he thinks how weird that he's already thinking in the long term, when all he's managed lately are a date or two.) ]
I dunno, I feel like I could manage it.
(He's falling hard and fast, and he really hopes this doesn't end i a big, fiery explosion like his last long term relationship did.
And then he thinks how weird that he's already thinking in the long term, when all he's managed lately are a date or two.) ]
I dunno, I feel like I could manage it.
Is that so?
[ She rolls over slightly to leave a trail of kisses from his chest, along his collar bone, up his neck, and finally to his lips, where she nips playfully before kissing him in earnest. ]
[ She rolls over slightly to leave a trail of kisses from his chest, along his collar bone, up his neck, and finally to his lips, where she nips playfully before kissing him in earnest. ]
[ He tips his head back as she's working her way up, humming his approval; his hands roam up and down her back, one finally tangling in her hair when their lips meet. ]
Did say I didn't have anywhere to be, remember?
Did say I didn't have anywhere to be, remember?
You did say that. [ aaaand she rolls over fully, settling on top of him ]
I hope you don't think me greedy for wanting you all to myself for the rest of the night.
I hope you don't think me greedy for wanting you all to myself for the rest of the night.
[ He takes a second to at least pretend to consider this carefully, then he lets out a breath. ]
I'll allow it. You're lucky you're so gorgeous, though.
I'll allow it. You're lucky you're so gorgeous, though.
[ Something about the way he says that makes her cheeks color slightly, and the goofiest goddamn smile appear on her face ] You think I'm gorgeous?
[ ... oh no she's so fucking cute. ]
-- Yes? I-- uh. Thought that was pretty obvious?
-- Yes? I-- uh. Thought that was pretty obvious?
[ He takes a second to brush some of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. ]
I'll be sure to say it more often, then.
I'll be sure to say it more often, then.
[ She leans into the brush of his fingers, smiling.
Peter isn't the only one falling hard and fast, it seems. God dammit, she really likes him- really, really likes him. She likes talking to him and making him laugh and she thinks most of all, she's going to like waking up next to him ]
You'd better.
Peter isn't the only one falling hard and fast, it seems. God dammit, she really likes him- really, really likes him. She likes talking to him and making him laugh and she thinks most of all, she's going to like waking up next to him ]
You'd better.
[ He moves to snag another kiss and gathers her to him, pressing their bodies close together. He rolls the two of them over, maintaining their kiss as he settles in above her.
Evidently he's ready for round two. ]
Evidently he's ready for round two. ]
[ She smiles into the kiss as he reverses their positions, looping her arms around his neck.
Evidently so is she, judging by the way she hooks a leg over his hip ]
Evidently so is she, judging by the way she hooks a leg over his hip ]
[ The Siren was a force of nature, like the Order of the Impending Storm had preached for decades.
Twenty-seven years, she had been used as a threat. "Pay the tithe, or the Siren will kill you." "Stay in line, or you will face her wrath." "Obey our every word, or you will know pain unlike any other." Needless to say, the threats were terrifying enough to keep the people of Athenas in check. No one dared question Brother Sophis or the other monks. The Siren was an unknown quantity. There was no telling what powers she had, sequestered as she had been.
And finally the Siren was put to the test, faced with men and women who dared to defy the Order. Brother Sophis aimed her like a gun and pulled the trigger. When the room was in a shambles, coated in blood and viscera of the terrorists and criminals who sought to undermine or overthrow the Order, Brother Sophis praised the Siren, said to her, "You have done well, my child." The Siren turned to her mentor, said, "Don't call me 'child,'" and shot him.
At least, that's how the story goes.
Peter doesn't really care to know whether or not it's true. Sometimes that shit gets exaggerated, where three men over time became twenty men, or a head shot in cold blood had actually been a bloody fight of survival. But Peter gets the impression that this one is legit, at least from the way the monks gave the two of them a wide berth whenever they walked down the halls, or the way everyone seemed to be filled with hatred or fear whenever they set eyes on the Siren's back. And once or twice, Peter thinks he spots old, dried blood -- so old it was no longer red, but so new that it hadn't yet been chipped away -- forgotten in the cracks of the stone walls.
As for him, he doesn't have much of a horse in this race, except he's being paid for his loyalty. He's lucky to even be alive, actually, considering he had been on the wrong side of Maya's judgment once before. A mercenary come to Athenas -- a corrupting influence, most likely, or so the monks had explained to Maya. He had only been here to smuggle in some rare weapons, but his buyer sold him out. When Peter landed, he was immediately ambushed by whatever the fuck the police were called here. He hardly knew what was happening until he was suddenly in cuffs and frogmarched to what looked like an abbey. They shoved him roughly to his knees as some hot chick with killer tattoos stared down her nose at him.
And then suddenly she dismissed everyone in the room, despite the meek objection of a monk who stood beside her, and once they were cleared out, she asked Peter questions about what, exactly, his profession entailed. The outlaw wasn't in much of a position to refuse to answer -- that, and he was still reeling from the series of events that it didn't occur to him to lie -- and so he dutifully answered her every question. Then before he knew it, they were drafting up a contract, and she was calling in someone to remove the cuffs, and suddenly Peter Jason Quill was the personal guard of the most powerful woman on Athenas.
That had been several months ago, and Peter's surprised she hasn't seen fit to dismiss or fire or kill him, yet. He must be doing something right. It helps that she hasn't died, yet, too, so that's something. Maybe that's all she needs? Or maybe she's lonely, or at least that's the slightly misguided impression he gets; that she's sick of the kiss-asses and the sycophants, and that she just wants someone who doesn't give enough of a fuck about making a dry remark here and again in her presence.
Or, more likely, she just didn't trust any of the fuckers on this planet enough to have them watch her back. Familiarity breeds contempt, or whatever. And given what he's seen Maya do, the people of Athenas have more than enough reason to fear her and more than enough reason to desire her gone.
Currently they're in between judgments, and Peter almost feels sorry for the poor assholes getting plopped down in front of the Siren to face her wrath. They're preparing the next victim when Peter ducks down to speak with her in her -- throne? thing? -- under the guise of whispering to her privately. (He doesn't miss the disapproving glances one of the Brothers sends his way.) ]
How many more dudes are you gonna murder, do you think? I'm starving.
Twenty-seven years, she had been used as a threat. "Pay the tithe, or the Siren will kill you." "Stay in line, or you will face her wrath." "Obey our every word, or you will know pain unlike any other." Needless to say, the threats were terrifying enough to keep the people of Athenas in check. No one dared question Brother Sophis or the other monks. The Siren was an unknown quantity. There was no telling what powers she had, sequestered as she had been.
And finally the Siren was put to the test, faced with men and women who dared to defy the Order. Brother Sophis aimed her like a gun and pulled the trigger. When the room was in a shambles, coated in blood and viscera of the terrorists and criminals who sought to undermine or overthrow the Order, Brother Sophis praised the Siren, said to her, "You have done well, my child." The Siren turned to her mentor, said, "Don't call me 'child,'" and shot him.
At least, that's how the story goes.
Peter doesn't really care to know whether or not it's true. Sometimes that shit gets exaggerated, where three men over time became twenty men, or a head shot in cold blood had actually been a bloody fight of survival. But Peter gets the impression that this one is legit, at least from the way the monks gave the two of them a wide berth whenever they walked down the halls, or the way everyone seemed to be filled with hatred or fear whenever they set eyes on the Siren's back. And once or twice, Peter thinks he spots old, dried blood -- so old it was no longer red, but so new that it hadn't yet been chipped away -- forgotten in the cracks of the stone walls.
As for him, he doesn't have much of a horse in this race, except he's being paid for his loyalty. He's lucky to even be alive, actually, considering he had been on the wrong side of Maya's judgment once before. A mercenary come to Athenas -- a corrupting influence, most likely, or so the monks had explained to Maya. He had only been here to smuggle in some rare weapons, but his buyer sold him out. When Peter landed, he was immediately ambushed by whatever the fuck the police were called here. He hardly knew what was happening until he was suddenly in cuffs and frogmarched to what looked like an abbey. They shoved him roughly to his knees as some hot chick with killer tattoos stared down her nose at him.
And then suddenly she dismissed everyone in the room, despite the meek objection of a monk who stood beside her, and once they were cleared out, she asked Peter questions about what, exactly, his profession entailed. The outlaw wasn't in much of a position to refuse to answer -- that, and he was still reeling from the series of events that it didn't occur to him to lie -- and so he dutifully answered her every question. Then before he knew it, they were drafting up a contract, and she was calling in someone to remove the cuffs, and suddenly Peter Jason Quill was the personal guard of the most powerful woman on Athenas.
That had been several months ago, and Peter's surprised she hasn't seen fit to dismiss or fire or kill him, yet. He must be doing something right. It helps that she hasn't died, yet, too, so that's something. Maybe that's all she needs? Or maybe she's lonely, or at least that's the slightly misguided impression he gets; that she's sick of the kiss-asses and the sycophants, and that she just wants someone who doesn't give enough of a fuck about making a dry remark here and again in her presence.
Or, more likely, she just didn't trust any of the fuckers on this planet enough to have them watch her back. Familiarity breeds contempt, or whatever. And given what he's seen Maya do, the people of Athenas have more than enough reason to fear her and more than enough reason to desire her gone.
Currently they're in between judgments, and Peter almost feels sorry for the poor assholes getting plopped down in front of the Siren to face her wrath. They're preparing the next victim when Peter ducks down to speak with her in her -- throne? thing? -- under the guise of whispering to her privately. (He doesn't miss the disapproving glances one of the Brothers sends his way.) ]
How many more dudes are you gonna murder, do you think? I'm starving.
[ Every so often, one of the monks would presume to ask her just why she kept the mercenary around, and she would fix them with a glare the promised unthinkable amounts of pain if they questioned her again. They would make simpering little apologies and crawl away, their proverbial tail tucked between their legs.
It spared her from having to answer, because truthfully, she didn't know why, herself. Peter Quill grated on her, with his sarcasm and the way she could tell he didn't approve of her methods. Maybe there was a part of her that was looking to stay grounded, or perhaps she knew that a more like-minded individual would try to use her, focus her powers as a tool for their own gain, like Sophis had.
All she knows is that, despite her threats, she had no desire to kill him. He'd done what she paid him to do, and done it well. She could live with his sarcasm.
That does not stop her gaze from sliding in his direction, ice cold and razor sharp ]
Don't tempt me to add you to their number, Quill. I'll be finished when I'm finished.
It spared her from having to answer, because truthfully, she didn't know why, herself. Peter Quill grated on her, with his sarcasm and the way she could tell he didn't approve of her methods. Maybe there was a part of her that was looking to stay grounded, or perhaps she knew that a more like-minded individual would try to use her, focus her powers as a tool for their own gain, like Sophis had.
All she knows is that, despite her threats, she had no desire to kill him. He'd done what she paid him to do, and done it well. She could live with his sarcasm.
That does not stop her gaze from sliding in his direction, ice cold and razor sharp ]
Don't tempt me to add you to their number, Quill. I'll be finished when I'm finished.
[ Peter leans forward, arm resting on the back of her chair (Or-- is it actually a throne? It's kind of hard to tell if Maya buys into the whole pomp and circumstance of her position. Throne seems more thematically correct, he thinks), and while the frigid look she sends his way would send her monks scrambling away to avoid her wrath, he just shrugs. It makes him nervous, certainly, and he knows fully what she's capable of (seen it over and over, in fact), but weirdly, he gets the impression that she lets him get away with more than the others in her-- company? Court? Whatever.
Which is dangerous for him to assume, he knows. Could just all be in his head. He needs to keep his guard up, avoid becoming complacent -- otherwise she could see to it that their contract is ended permanently. ]
Just saying, Your Worship.
[ There's no sarcasm in the way he says the title, but there's a definite quirk of his eyebrow that shows he's certainly thinking of it with a touch of irony. He shrugs a shoulder, ignores the blatant gawking and outrage from the monks at his audacity to enter her personal space so freely. Then again, most of them keep at least five feet between themselves and her at any given moment. ]
Even you could do with a break. Quick nap. Maybe a sandwich. You've been slaughtering folks since this morning.
Which is dangerous for him to assume, he knows. Could just all be in his head. He needs to keep his guard up, avoid becoming complacent -- otherwise she could see to it that their contract is ended permanently. ]
Just saying, Your Worship.
[ There's no sarcasm in the way he says the title, but there's a definite quirk of his eyebrow that shows he's certainly thinking of it with a touch of irony. He shrugs a shoulder, ignores the blatant gawking and outrage from the monks at his audacity to enter her personal space so freely. Then again, most of them keep at least five feet between themselves and her at any given moment. ]
Even you could do with a break. Quick nap. Maybe a sandwich. You've been slaughtering folks since this morning.
[ It's also possible that Maya keeps Peter around because it's a blatant reminder for the monks that none of them has her favor. Peter doesn't either, so she tells herself, but she lets him get away with being more familiar with her. She enjoys how the Brothers silently fume whenever the mercenary gets close, the way they try to garner her favor with petty backstabbing and favors and what they think passes for subtle politics.
It's amusing, if nothing else.
She dismisses Peter's concerns with a wave of her hand. ]
This is the last one, if you're really so concerned. Bring him in.
[ The doors to the room- once presumably a sanctuary of some kind, now long since stripped of its pews and altar and made into something of a throne room- swing open, and two warriors of the Order drag in a small boy. He's probably no more than eleven or twelve, dirty and thin, and for a moment even Maya isn't able to keep the surprise off her face. This is the first time she's had to judge a child.
Another monk steps forward to lay out the charges against the child. Apparently a group of urchins were attempting to rob some of the Brothers as they collected their Tithe in one of the larger cities- this one is their ringleader.
There's talk of rebellion among the citizens, Your Worship, says the monk. This is merely the beginning.
For his own part, the boy remains silent, his gaze locked on the Siren, determined and fierce, despite the trembling of his lower lip.
Maya leans forward in her seat. ] What you've done here is punishable by death, boy.
It's amusing, if nothing else.
She dismisses Peter's concerns with a wave of her hand. ]
This is the last one, if you're really so concerned. Bring him in.
[ The doors to the room- once presumably a sanctuary of some kind, now long since stripped of its pews and altar and made into something of a throne room- swing open, and two warriors of the Order drag in a small boy. He's probably no more than eleven or twelve, dirty and thin, and for a moment even Maya isn't able to keep the surprise off her face. This is the first time she's had to judge a child.
Another monk steps forward to lay out the charges against the child. Apparently a group of urchins were attempting to rob some of the Brothers as they collected their Tithe in one of the larger cities- this one is their ringleader.
There's talk of rebellion among the citizens, Your Worship, says the monk. This is merely the beginning.
For his own part, the boy remains silent, his gaze locked on the Siren, determined and fierce, despite the trembling of his lower lip.
Maya leans forward in her seat. ] What you've done here is punishable by death, boy.
[ He's about to say something smart and disrespectful, but the doors are already bursting open, and he sighs, moving back to his customary position just behind her seat to one side. Peter Quill doesn't strike the most intimidating figure, but he's eagle-eyed and fast, so he has that going for him, at least.
So when they bring in the boy, Peter doesn't miss the way Maya's expression goes slack with surprise, and he tenses, himself, alarmed. He looks between the kid and the Siren, and despite himself, he's worried. Athenas is a shithole -- of course the kid was going to steal. That's how Peter survived to adulthood, until he worked his way up to stealing from bigger and badder people instead of random passers-by on the streets. And if he were in this kid’s shoes, he’d steal from these stupid monks, too.
But, hey, she wouldn't-- she won't actually kill this boy, will she? She'll put the fear of the Siren into him, or whatever, and then she'll toss him back out into the streets. And then the monk is talking about rebellion and murmurs of revolution (and Peter thinks that's only a matter of course, too), and that's a serious threat.
The child continues to stare defiantly at the Siren, but he doesn't speak. Most likely it's taking everything in the kid's power not to burst into tears. A few moments of silence pass, and it's clear enough the kid isn't going to say anything in his own defense -- which means Maya will most likely be forced to act.
Shit.
Before he can fully think on it, Peter clears his throat, stepping up beside Maya's chair. He ducks down as before. ]
Ma'am. [ The room goes deathly silent. ] May I have a word?
So when they bring in the boy, Peter doesn't miss the way Maya's expression goes slack with surprise, and he tenses, himself, alarmed. He looks between the kid and the Siren, and despite himself, he's worried. Athenas is a shithole -- of course the kid was going to steal. That's how Peter survived to adulthood, until he worked his way up to stealing from bigger and badder people instead of random passers-by on the streets. And if he were in this kid’s shoes, he’d steal from these stupid monks, too.
But, hey, she wouldn't-- she won't actually kill this boy, will she? She'll put the fear of the Siren into him, or whatever, and then she'll toss him back out into the streets. And then the monk is talking about rebellion and murmurs of revolution (and Peter thinks that's only a matter of course, too), and that's a serious threat.
The child continues to stare defiantly at the Siren, but he doesn't speak. Most likely it's taking everything in the kid's power not to burst into tears. A few moments of silence pass, and it's clear enough the kid isn't going to say anything in his own defense -- which means Maya will most likely be forced to act.
Shit.
Before he can fully think on it, Peter clears his throat, stepping up beside Maya's chair. He ducks down as before. ]
Ma'am. [ The room goes deathly silent. ] May I have a word?
[ She's starting the motion of getting out of her chair when Peter leans in to talk to her.
She has a feeling she knows why, and she turns sharply to look at him. ]
Make it quick.
She has a feeling she knows why, and she turns sharply to look at him. ]
Make it quick.
[ He doesn't quite flinch under the weight of her gaze, but it's a close thing. Instead his eyes flick to the boy (who's frozen in the spot, watching Peter with owlish eyes), before he returns to holding Maya's gaze. ]
--He's just some snot-nosed kid. [ He keeps his voice low to avoid the monks listening in -- which means there's no use pussy-footing around the topic. ] Make him do some community service. Wash toilets. Pick up litter. I dunno, feed cows. Whatever. Just don't kill him.
--He's just some snot-nosed kid. [ He keeps his voice low to avoid the monks listening in -- which means there's no use pussy-footing around the topic. ] Make him do some community service. Wash toilets. Pick up litter. I dunno, feed cows. Whatever. Just don't kill him.
You're suggesting mercy?
[ She spits the word like acid, eyes narrowing ] He needs to be made an example of.
[ She spits the word like acid, eyes narrowing ] He needs to be made an example of.
I'm suggesting you don't kill him. He's just a child. Him and his stupid friends picked the wrong douchebag to rob. That's all. What, are you gonna execute every kid who's born poor, or every kid who's gotta steal so they can have somethin' to eat for the next few days? 'Cause if that's the case, you're gonna have yourself a busy next couple'a' years.
[ He licks his lips, gestures to the monks with a sharp nod. ] They said there's a rebellion brewing. Kill the kid, and he's just gonna become a martyr. If you really wanna offer your dissenters a rallying cry, then be my guest.
[ He licks his lips, gestures to the monks with a sharp nod. ] They said there's a rebellion brewing. Kill the kid, and he's just gonna become a martyr. If you really wanna offer your dissenters a rallying cry, then be my guest.
[ The fact that he presumes to question her makes her furious. She allows him to get away with a lot, but he's never outright intervened in her affairs before.
What he's saying is logical, and she knows that, but she's wondering if this is where the treachery starts. Direct her now, under the guise of logic, and soon she'll be looking to him for advice, doing what he wants? Not in a million years.
Her right hand comes up, tattoos flaring bright cyan, and the boy kneeling on the floor flinches, screwing his eyes shut.
But nothing happens to him. He's not where her wrath is focused for the moment. Her ire, and her phaselock, are aimed at Peter. She holds him suspended in the air a moment, as the onlooking monks try and fail to keep smug looks of satisfaction off their faces. ]
Everyone out. Take the boy to the cells- I'll deal with him later.
[ The monks bow, murmuring things like "yes, of course" and "as you wish" as they shuffle out, taking the child with them.
Once they're gone, Maya gives a wave of her arm, sending the phaselock bubble, and consequently Peter, careening into the nearest wall. She lets him drop to the floor without ceremony. ]
Just who the hell do you think you are?
What he's saying is logical, and she knows that, but she's wondering if this is where the treachery starts. Direct her now, under the guise of logic, and soon she'll be looking to him for advice, doing what he wants? Not in a million years.
Her right hand comes up, tattoos flaring bright cyan, and the boy kneeling on the floor flinches, screwing his eyes shut.
But nothing happens to him. He's not where her wrath is focused for the moment. Her ire, and her phaselock, are aimed at Peter. She holds him suspended in the air a moment, as the onlooking monks try and fail to keep smug looks of satisfaction off their faces. ]
Everyone out. Take the boy to the cells- I'll deal with him later.
[ The monks bow, murmuring things like "yes, of course" and "as you wish" as they shuffle out, taking the child with them.
Once they're gone, Maya gives a wave of her arm, sending the phaselock bubble, and consequently Peter, careening into the nearest wall. She lets him drop to the floor without ceremony. ]
Just who the hell do you think you are?
[ See, Quill, this is what you get for stickin' your neck out for some punk stupid enough to get caught.
He crashes into the wall and falls to the floor in a heap, and for a while there, all he sees are flashes of light in his vision. There'd probably a halo of swirling stars around his head and a cuckoo clock going off, if this were a cartoon. But it's not, this is real life, and motherfucker, that hurt.
Peter shakes his head to clear his vision, shoves himself up, forces himself to get to his feet. He's already in deep enough -- if she's gonna kill him, then she's gonna kill him. The merc might be fast, but the Siren can stop him with a mere thought and a gesture. So he grits his teeth, sets his shoulders.
He had a good run, right? ]
Apparently I'm the only asshole around here not afraid to call you on your bullshit, Your Worship.
He crashes into the wall and falls to the floor in a heap, and for a while there, all he sees are flashes of light in his vision. There'd probably a halo of swirling stars around his head and a cuckoo clock going off, if this were a cartoon. But it's not, this is real life, and motherfucker, that hurt.
Peter shakes his head to clear his vision, shoves himself up, forces himself to get to his feet. He's already in deep enough -- if she's gonna kill him, then she's gonna kill him. The merc might be fast, but the Siren can stop him with a mere thought and a gesture. So he grits his teeth, sets his shoulders.
He had a good run, right? ]
Apparently I'm the only asshole around here not afraid to call you on your bullshit, Your Worship.
Page 93 of 98
Page 93 of 98