[ Adrenaline and nausea and a whole mess of bad feelings make his words sharp: ] The hell do you mean you can't?
[ He fires another shot, and only through sheer luck does he manage to catch another bandit through the eye. Three left to go, then.
He rolls aside, finding cover behind a different tree just as an arrow embeds itself in the ground where he had been crouched. His skin feels like it's on fire, feels like his flesh is burning away. His head is screaming now, and he gags, dropping his bow in favor of twisting his hands into his hair.
And then the dam breaks.
He straightens abruptly when the pain leaves him, and fine lines dance across his skin like cracks in too-dry mud, and between the cracks shines a dim light. He stares down at his hands numbly, and when he looks up, his eyes are entirely black.
An arrow thunks into his cover, and all hell breaks loose.
With a feral scream he throws himself at the thieves, and his hands burn as he grasps one by the throat, the scent of burnt flesh wafting in the air. He slams him down into the ground, grips, and tears, the open neck wound cauterizing immediately, and the bandit lies still on the forest floor.
The second thief cries demon and turns to run, but Peter's upon him before he gets too far, slamming into his back and driving him to the ground as well. He's nowhere near as fast as Maya at her best, but fast enough for his purposes. He slams his fist down and after a sickening crunch, sizzle, and gurgled scream, Peter stands.
The last, the archer, has an arrow nocked and aimed directly at Peter, who tilts his head -- birdlike, inhuman -- before extending a hand. Light flashes from his palm, a beam of purplish energy arcing through the air and reducing the archer to dust.
After that, Peter just-- stands there, staring down at the body at his feet. His head tilts again, curious and silent. ]
no subject
[ He fires another shot, and only through sheer luck does he manage to catch another bandit through the eye. Three left to go, then.
He rolls aside, finding cover behind a different tree just as an arrow embeds itself in the ground where he had been crouched. His skin feels like it's on fire, feels like his flesh is burning away. His head is screaming now, and he gags, dropping his bow in favor of twisting his hands into his hair.
And then the dam breaks.
He straightens abruptly when the pain leaves him, and fine lines dance across his skin like cracks in too-dry mud, and between the cracks shines a dim light. He stares down at his hands numbly, and when he looks up, his eyes are entirely black.
An arrow thunks into his cover, and all hell breaks loose.
With a feral scream he throws himself at the thieves, and his hands burn as he grasps one by the throat, the scent of burnt flesh wafting in the air. He slams him down into the ground, grips, and tears, the open neck wound cauterizing immediately, and the bandit lies still on the forest floor.
The second thief cries demon and turns to run, but Peter's upon him before he gets too far, slamming into his back and driving him to the ground as well. He's nowhere near as fast as Maya at her best, but fast enough for his purposes. He slams his fist down and after a sickening crunch, sizzle, and gurgled scream, Peter stands.
The last, the archer, has an arrow nocked and aimed directly at Peter, who tilts his head -- birdlike, inhuman -- before extending a hand. Light flashes from his palm, a beam of purplish energy arcing through the air and reducing the archer to dust.
After that, Peter just-- stands there, staring down at the body at his feet. His head tilts again, curious and silent. ]