[ She angles her head slightly to inspect him- there's something decidedly inhuman about the way she does it. She moves more like a bird of prey than a person sometimes. ]
How's your hand?
[ The relic didn't leave him unscathed, and he'll find himself the owner of a new tattoo, right on his palm. ]
[ If the manner of her movement unnerves him, he doesn't show it -- but it does, in the same sort of way that one instinctually fears smell of rot and sickness. Unnatural.
The mention of his hand draws his attention to the dull ache there, and he suddenly remembers the relic had burned him before he dropped it. He flexes his left palm experimentally, and there's a slight twinge of pain that is easily ignored, before he glances down to inspect it.
... Shit. ]
What is this? [ Despite himself, he sounds more curious than afraid. ]
A contract. [ is the matter-of-fact reply. She has a book on her belt with the same symbol on the front. A wave of her hand and it floats in front of her, flipping open, pages rustling. If he had any doubts about her humanity, well. That should probably put an end to them. ]
Of course, you've yet to agree to anything, and I am nothing if not fair. Consider this your chance to back out- but I can promise you that, should you agree, the power you desire will be yours.
[ A motion of her hand sends the book floating towards him, open to a simple incantation. A spell of binding. A verbal signature. ]
And to answer your earlier question, my name is Maya, and I am one of the six Sirens.
The word bounces around in his head as he stares at the brand on his palm, then at the incantation floating before him. Siren. Powerful. Beautiful. Lethal. Frequently led men to their doom. Peter had heard stories, of course, nighttime tales meant to frighten and warn away from the dangers of hubris, but he never thought they were real. And if Ravagers weren't meant to mess with magic, the case for Sirens was a completely different level of Never. Fucking. Ever.
His mind is racing with >possibilities. He knows he should refuse. He's in way over his head. Everything about this screamed wrong.
But he's speaking before he realizes it: ] What's the catch? There's always a catch.
It's true, nothing is truly free. But you did free me from that damnable relic, and put an end to twenty-seven long years in imprisonment.
[ She cants her head again, tapping her chin with one finger. ] A little leeway, then. I will be in your service for as long as you like, and the first month of our contract shall be free of cost. For every day, every month, every year after that, I will take an equal measure of your life.
[ He can't help it -- the corner of his mouth twitches upward in the beginnings of a smile. ]
So what you're telling me is that you're giving me a free trial.
[ He weighs the consequences of the deal, but if he's honest with himself? The price he has to pay isn't much. Peter's never expected to live very long, anyway; the life of a Ravager isn't exactly one rife with luxury, after all, and it was often that a Ravager never returned from an assignment. Those that went missing weren't spared more than a second of silence before their belongings were divvied out.
Peter could refuse, though. That was definitely an option. But he's also pretty sure that after this stunt he's pulled with running off with the relic, they would probably make good on their threats of eating him if he returned to the group. But-- "better the devil you know, than the devil you don't" right?
So. Shortened life span and the power he's always wanted? Or go back with a useless, dead relic in hand and an extremely short lifespan?
Decisions, decisions.
His mouth is set in a grim line as he studies the floating book before him. His left hand flexes and clenches into a fist repeatedly as he thinks everything over, then his gaze flicks back up to the Siren. ]
I just read this aloud, and we have a deal? But I can back out whenever I want, right?
He doesn’t know why he’s even thinking about it, really. He knows his decision, has known it since he took this job in the first place. Maybe he just doesn’t want to seem too eager – some silly compulsion to impress the Siren. Stupid. But Peter’s always had a stupid streak in him.
This is a huge fucking mistake to end all mistakes, he thinks.
He nods to himself, conclusion reached, and replaces the knife in its hidden sheath in his boot. Licking his lips, he casts another nervous glance at the Siren before reading the incantation aloud. ]
[ In some ways, Peter's kind of disappointed; he was sort of expecting fire and brimstone, honestly. He doesn't feel any different, certainly, aside from the twinge in his hand that faded as soon as the book is shut.
He stands slowly and does his best to look Maya in the eye. ]
Now? Well, now I think it would be prudent to have a conversation with the gentleman hiding in the bushes.
[ He's uh. He's been there a while. And now that Maya has outed him, he tries to make a break for it, but she waves her arm, tattoos glowing bright. Their eavesdropping friend rises out of his hiding place, trapped in an orb of purple light. ]
[ Fuck. Fuck, how did he not notice? Peter spins around just as the guy is forced up into the air, trapped in-- whatever the hell that thing Maya just conjured was.
Peter and the man (whimpering, now) stare at each other -- the man with wide, terrified eyes, and Peter with a growing sense of dread. He knows him, he realizes. Another Ravager, but not a friend or even an acquaintance -- someone on the team, at the very least, and he recognizes the face.
He doesn't turn to look at her, but he addresses Maya-- ]
What did you do to him? [ Still curious, rather than frightened or panicked -- and even Peter thinks that's odd, that he's not particularly afraid. ]
[ That's all she says before the man bursts into flame, unable to move and stuck silently screaming in her trap. It's a painful death to be sure, but a quick one. She lets him drop, broken and charred, to the ground. ]
[ And Peter resolutely does not look -- in fact, he shuts his eyes and keeps his back to the man, though the burst of heat and the sudden back draft and the smell (oh god, the smell) definitely clue him in on what's currently happening to him.
He feels guilty for not feeling guilty, but he's never had any love for the Ravagers. Not a one.
It's only when he hears the sound of the body hitting the ground that he moves. He picks up his satchel -- and as an afterthought, the dead relic -- and kicks dirt over the fire. ]
Ravagers send scouts in twos. We should leave before the other comes looking.
[ But even as she says it, she hops down from her perch, landing soundlessly on the grass. If he wants to go, she'll go. Though something does occur to her. ]
I know you don't. [ You. Not I. They're her powers, after all. He's only directing them, like an archer nocking an arrow. ] I just-- [ "don't want to hurt anyone," is on the tip of his tongue, but that's wrong. He wants to destroy the Ravagers, honestly. Wipe them out for stealing him away from his home. But not-- he doesn't think he has the stomach for it like this. Not one at a time. Better to feel guilt-but-not-guilt all at once, he thinks.
And he thinks his mother would be disappointed with the way he's turned out now, hungry for revenge and power, only he doesn't really remember what she sounds like anymore. Maybe if he did, he'd have her voice in his head urging him to take a different path.
He doesn't realize he's stilled, lost in his thoughts, until she speaks -- and he doesn't quite start at the sound of her voice, but he does look up at her sharply. ]
[ He shoulders his bag and looks to be at a loss at her question -- honestly, he didn't think he would get this far before the Ravagers caught up to him. ]
... I don't know. [ Away? ] I think the next town is at least a day's journey from here.
[ He shouldn't be surprised that he's being so terribly obvious, but he is -- and it shows in his eyes, at least for a second. The expression fades though, and he just feels tired. ]
... Yeah. I thought they would've forced me to go back by now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ She angles her head slightly to inspect him- there's something decidedly inhuman about the way she does it. She moves more like a bird of prey than a person sometimes. ]
How's your hand?
[ The relic didn't leave him unscathed, and he'll find himself the owner of a new tattoo, right on his palm. ]
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The mention of his hand draws his attention to the dull ache there, and he suddenly remembers the relic had burned him before he dropped it. He flexes his left palm experimentally, and there's a slight twinge of pain that is easily ignored, before he glances down to inspect it.
... Shit. ]
What is this? [ Despite himself, he sounds more curious than afraid. ]
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Of course, you've yet to agree to anything, and I am nothing if not fair. Consider this your chance to back out- but I can promise you that, should you agree, the power you desire will be yours.
[ A motion of her hand sends the book floating towards him, open to a simple incantation. A spell of binding. A verbal signature. ]
And to answer your earlier question, my name is Maya, and I am one of the six Sirens.
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The word bounces around in his head as he stares at the brand on his palm, then at the incantation floating before him. Siren. Powerful. Beautiful. Lethal. Frequently led men to their doom. Peter had heard stories, of course, nighttime tales meant to frighten and warn away from the dangers of hubris, but he never thought they were real. And if Ravagers weren't meant to mess with magic, the case for Sirens was a completely different level of Never. Fucking. Ever.
His mind is racing with >possibilities. He knows he should refuse. He's in way over his head. Everything about this screamed wrong.
But he's speaking before he realizes it: ] What's the catch? There's always a catch.
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[ She cants her head again, tapping her chin with one finger. ] A little leeway, then. I will be in your service for as long as you like, and the first month of our contract shall be free of cost. For every day, every month, every year after that, I will take an equal measure of your life.
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So what you're telling me is that you're giving me a free trial.
[ He weighs the consequences of the deal, but if he's honest with himself? The price he has to pay isn't much. Peter's never expected to live very long, anyway; the life of a Ravager isn't exactly one rife with luxury, after all, and it was often that a Ravager never returned from an assignment. Those that went missing weren't spared more than a second of silence before their belongings were divvied out.
Peter could refuse, though. That was definitely an option. But he's also pretty sure that after this stunt he's pulled with running off with the relic, they would probably make good on their threats of eating him if he returned to the group. But-- "better the devil you know, than the devil you don't" right?
So. Shortened life span and the power he's always wanted? Or go back with a useless, dead relic in hand and an extremely short lifespan?
Decisions, decisions.
His mouth is set in a grim line as he studies the floating book before him. His left hand flexes and clenches into a fist repeatedly as he thinks everything over, then his gaze flicks back up to the Siren. ]
I just read this aloud, and we have a deal? But I can back out whenever I want, right?
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[ as for the rest, she nods, confirming his first question ] Those are the terms. Have you made your choice?
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He doesn’t know why he’s even thinking about it, really. He knows his decision, has known it since he took this job in the first place. Maybe he just doesn’t want to seem too eager – some silly compulsion to impress the Siren. Stupid. But Peter’s always had a stupid streak in him.
This is a huge fucking mistake to end all mistakes, he thinks.
He nods to himself, conclusion reached, and replaces the knife in its hidden sheath in his boot. Licking his lips, he casts another nervous glance at the Siren before reading the incantation aloud. ]
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His hand probably tingles, and if he were to look, it would appear that the mark on his palm has begun to bleed.
It's over in a matter of moments, though, and Maya's book snaps shut and flies back into her hand. ]
Then we have an agreement.
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He stands slowly and does his best to look Maya in the eye. ]
What happens now?
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Now? Well, now I think it would be prudent to have a conversation with the gentleman hiding in the bushes.
[ He's uh. He's been there a while. And now that Maya has outed him, he tries to make a break for it, but she waves her arm, tattoos glowing bright. Their eavesdropping friend rises out of his hiding place, trapped in an orb of purple light. ]
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[ Fuck. Fuck, how did he not notice? Peter spins around just as the guy is forced up into the air, trapped in-- whatever the hell that thing Maya just conjured was.
Peter and the man (whimpering, now) stare at each other -- the man with wide, terrified eyes, and Peter with a growing sense of dread. He knows him, he realizes. Another Ravager, but not a friend or even an acquaintance -- someone on the team, at the very least, and he recognizes the face.
He doesn't turn to look at her, but he addresses Maya-- ]
What did you do to him? [ Still curious, rather than frightened or panicked -- and even Peter thinks that's odd, that he's not particularly afraid. ]
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But I could kill him, if you'd like.
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Not for too long, though, as after a second he turns to Maya and nods. ]
Do it. He'll send the others after us if we let him go.
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[ That's all she says before the man bursts into flame, unable to move and stuck silently screaming in her trap. It's a painful death to be sure, but a quick one. She lets him drop, broken and charred, to the ground. ]
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He feels guilty for not feeling guilty, but he's never had any love for the Ravagers. Not a one.
It's only when he hears the sound of the body hitting the ground that he moves. He picks up his satchel -- and as an afterthought, the dead relic -- and kicks dirt over the fire. ]
Ravagers send scouts in twos. We should leave before the other comes looking.
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[ But even as she says it, she hops down from her perch, landing soundlessly on the grass. If he wants to go, she'll go. Though something does occur to her. ]
What's your name?
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And he thinks his mother would be disappointed with the way he's turned out now, hungry for revenge and power, only he doesn't really remember what she sounds like anymore. Maybe if he did, he'd have her voice in his head urging him to take a different path.
He doesn't realize he's stilled, lost in his thoughts, until she speaks -- and he doesn't quite start at the sound of her voice, but he does look up at her sharply. ]
I'm Peter. Peter Quill.
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[ She tries the name out, and, seemingly satisfied with the sound of it, gives a nod. ]
Where to, then?
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... I don't know. [ Away? ] I think the next town is at least a day's journey from here.
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... Yeah. I thought they would've forced me to go back by now.
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[ it's not really a question ]
You know, you didn't awaken that relic by accident. There is power in you. I feel it.
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That's sweet. I bet you say that to all the idiots who accidentally summon you.
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It took several wizards of the Order of the Impending Storm to trap me in that relic, yet only you to get me out. Surely that means something.
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