[ He screams her name as she goes flying, raw and pissed and scared, and he doesn't have time to think about how fucking powerful that blast must've been to break through her barrier and knock her off her feet.
He doesn't think at all, actually, because he's working on reflex and instinct and his instinct is screaming protect her she needs help protect her , so he's running to her side, sliding on his knees the last few feet. ]
[ The Order of the Impending Storm didn't choose their name simply because it sounded ominous and cool- they are, each and every one of them, highly accomplished weather wizards.
Maya is barely able to mumble that she's fine when the wind kicks up. Dust and debris is sent flying everywhere, crates and merchant stands are toppled. She feels herself begin to move, pushed by the sheer force of the gale, and makes a grab for Peter's arm, for all the good that will do them.
There is a man in deep blue and dark grey robes making his way towards them. His hood is up to cover his face, and he doesn't seem bothered by the wind at all. ]
[ He grips her arm firmly as hooks his bow over his shoulder; he'll puzzle it out later, but something in him is still screaming protect her and he kneels in front of Maya, tucking her behind him and pulling her arm to wrap it around his waist.
Silly little human, says the prick voice, protecting a demon from a wizard. What good will you do?
With the force of the wind, he knows standing will be a really terrible idea, moving to take the offensive even worse, so Peter's forced to stay kneeling, shifting to use the spaces between the cobblestone to help keep him in place against the gale. He pulls out his knife with one hand, his other scrabbling for some kind of hold on the ground.
Peter would like, in that moment, to make some sort of pithy remark, something brave to show he's not afraid, but no words come -- and even if they did, the wind would simply whip the noise away. So he grips his knife tightly, muscles coiled to act, and there's a fierceness in his eyes, a defiance, that screams, Don't you fucking dare. ]
[ She feels his grip on her arm, and for a moment she just stares at him, trying to piece together what in the hell he thinks he's doing.
Then she catches a glimpse of his knife as he draws it, and something in her chest twists when she realizes he's protecting her.
She has not time to ponder why he would do that, or why it makes her feel the way it does, because the wind dies down as suddenly as it started. It was as much a tactic to disorient them as it was to clear the streets, because the townsfolk have fled indoors and out of the way. Lightning crackles on the wizard's fingertips as he regards Peter from beneath his hood. ]
Just what do you think you're doing?
[ Maya realizes with a start that she knows that voice, even if it has aged twenty-seven years. Mordo.
[ Peter can't help the shit-eating grin that makes its way onto his face, but there it is, and now that the wind has died down, he can speak. Small victories. ]
Something stupid, probably.
[ He felt the way Maya tensed at the sound of the man's voice, and he thinks, Not good. He wants to glance at her over his shoulder, try for something reassuring, but his instinct is telling him not to take his eyes off this guy. Maybe it's the old Ravager paranoia, maybe just the fact that this guy has magic that's clearly strong as hell, but Peter is watching his approach with sharp eyes.
With the threat of being blown away out of the picture, for now, Peter shifts his position yet again to put himself in a better spot to spring, if need be. Not standing, not yet, because the storm could return at any moment. ]
Look, man, why don't you just back off, go about your merry way, and we can forget this ever happened? No one gets hurt, and everyone leaves with their faces intact.
Ravager scum. If you'd delivered the relic like you were paid to do, you wouldn't be in this mess.
[ Well, that answers one question. Maya, in the meantime, has made her way up to her knees. ] I swear to whatever god you believe in, Mordo- if you hurt him, I'll end you just as I ended your brother.
[ That was probably the wrong thing to say, because it sets Mordo off. ] Demon bitch! [ he practically screeches it, and lightning lances from his fingertips towards Maya. ]
[ Peter has always lived his life based on instinct and reflex. He's always been fast, which annoyed the Ravagers to no end when it came time for chores or a punishment or a beating; Peter would run and run and no one could catch him. And it made things worse, in the end, but Peter never learned.
So when he sees the lightning arching through the air toward Maya, his brain doesn't quite connect the fact that she's a Siren, she'll most likely be fine if she takes the hit, because his instinct is screaming at him, she's in trouble protect her help her she's in trouble, and his reflexes make him turn, shoving her roughly away.
Because Peter is fast, and he never learns.
His entire body seizes when the bolt hits, and suddenly he can't breathe, and there's a white noise rushing through his head and he thinks he might be screaming? But he can't tell, he's not sure of anything, because it hurts, it fucking hurts, please make it stop make it stop--
And then it feels like hours later (but probably it was only seconds), he can breathe again, can move again, but his arms just fall limply at his sides like a marionette with its strings cut. His body aches and he has just enough in him to glance up to Maya (she's alright, good, she's alright), and then the ground is rushing up to meet him. ]
[ For Maya, the whole thing happens in slow motion. She's fast- wicked fast- when she wants to be, and if she focuses her power, the whole world slows. Still, she wasn't expecting Peter to shove her out of the way and take the bolt himself. She has no time to react- no time to pull him out of the way, and god, the way he screams terrifies her.
For a brief, panicked moment, she wonders if she's lost him, but she still feels the tug of the binding they share because of the contract, she sees him look at her, something like relief on his face, before he collapses. She reaches out to catch him, pumping some healing magic into him as she lowers him to the ground. She'll have to fully heal him later- they don't have the luxury of time- but this should help the pain and eliminate any life-threatening damage.
When she looks up at Mordo, there is fire in her pale eyes. ]
You have signed your death warrant, wizard.
[ Her wings unfurl and she launches herself at him. He maybe a magical powerhouse, and he may have spells to counter her own magic, but he's no match for her speed and strength. Honestly, as much as she'd love to set him on fire, she'd take much more satisfaction out of killing him with her bare hands.
She doesn't give him enough time to call up another wind- the dance they do is quick and brutal, as she flits around him like a hummingbird, and he fires errant lightning bolt after lightning bolt, hitting storefronts and lampposts, and anything but the demon and her charge. His hood falls off at one point, revealing a greying man with a severe, joyless expression.
She feints one way, and he takes the bait. She comes up hard and fast on his other side, planting a hand on his face, and digging her fingers into the soft flesh of his cheeks. He screams. He screams as the acid of her magic begins to eat away at his face. He flails a hand at her, but she clamps her free hand down on his arm, his robes beginning to smoke as they're eaten away as well, and her magic bites into the flesh of his arm. He tries to cast a spell, something, anything, but he can't gather his mental faculties enough to even summon a breeze.
She kills him slowly by degrees, wings and tattoos bright and eyes wild. He screams as long as he can, until his face is eaten away, and all that escapes him is a sad, desperate gurgle, before he goes limp. With a bright flash of flame, she reduces the body to ash.
The town has gone dead quiet- no one dares peek out of their doors or windows, no one dares to breathe. The Siren walks over to where Peter lay, crouching and brushing a hand through his hair. ]
You are a damn fool, Peter Quill. [ She doesn't sound angry- in fact, there's genuine affection in her voice. Carefully as she can, she picks him up and dashes away, out of town and into the nearby forest. She takes him as far away as she can, finding an abandoned bear's den. She builds a fire for light and warmth, and begins the process of healing him. Stripping off his coat and shirt, she places her hand on his chest- the lightning left quite a mark, an ugly red burn left over by the electricity that had coursed through his veins, shaped rather like a lightning bolt itself. Blue light rolls through her tattoos like waves, flowing into his body and mending the damage. ]
[ Waking, Peter will soon realize, might have been a terrible mistake.
The first thing he's aware of is a deep ache all over his body -- so, he's not dead. And hey, isn't that something? He thinks there might just be a vice constricting his skull though, and while breathing isn't difficult, neither is it particularly easy, as it should be. It sort of feels like something heavy is weighing down his chest -- but at least he's breathing, so small victories, there.
The next thing he's aware of is warmth and the sound of crackling -- campfire, maybe? Seems like a safe enough bet, considering he's lying on his back, not uncomfortably. Probably not imprisoned somewhere, but he won't know for sure until he opens his eyes.
Which he really doesn't want to do.
But he does it anyway, because he's an idiot, and the light from the fire assaults his vision (fuck, too bright, too bright) and he's forced to screw his eyes shut again while he waits for the throbbing in his head to die down. He tries again with more success, sees that he's in some sort of-- cave? A den? Whatever, it's not a jail, at least. Getting better and better.
He doesn't know how he got here, though, and he tries to remember back to-- before. Whatever before was. His eyes slip shut again and he thinks-- getting supplies-- town-- being followed-- attacked-- screaming-- wind and lightning-- Maya--
Maya.
He bolts upright, her name on his lips, but the sound of it is choked off with a gasp and a curse. Every muscle in his body, it seemed, chose that exact second to scream at him, protesting the sudden movement, and he falls back, curling up against the pain and taking quick, labored breaths.
Check off another mistake, then. It's a damn shame that he still probably hasn't hit quota yet, though. ]
[ When she was sure he wasn't going to die on her, she'd slipped back to town for their things, and to see if there was much around by way of food. A risk to leave him unattended, but she had faith in her speed, and she honestly expected him to be out for the next while.
She's just outside the den when he wakes, and it's hard to miss the sound of him struggling to breathe. She rushes in, knapsack and bow slung over her shoulder, a dead rabbit dangling by the ears in one hand. ]
Peter?
[ she sets their things aside, and crouches next to him. Her tattoos are already glowing, and she rests her hand on his chest again, letting her magic heal and soothe. ]
[ Her magic is oddly cool and warm as it courses through his system, flows just beneath his skin, and the weight on his chest lifts slowly. The pain ebbs, his body relaxes, and he has the distinct impression that his bones have become liquid.
He does as directed, though: he just breathes, trying to ignore the pervasive ache. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.
The funny thing is, he doesn't remember screwing his eyes shut until he's opening them, looking up at her through a half-lidded gaze. ]
Maya? [ His throat feels raw, like it's been coated with gravel, and his voice certainly matches that sensation. The memory of the attack floats its way back to the surface and he frowns at her, suddenly concerned. ] You're okay?
[ She smiles at him in an attempt to be reassuring, but it's so hard to watch him be in this much pain. If she'd been more aware, if she'd been faster, then none of this would have happened. ]
I'm fine, I promise.
Please don't strain yourself. That lightning strike was nasty.
What, from that guy? [ His voice is still hoarse, only just above a whisper, but he tries for a cooky smirk, because she looks-- he thinks she looks upset, almost. But she's trying to hide it. Maybe she's pissed at him for being a liability? For being weak? He had been pretty useless, after all. ]
[ He ventures a glance up at her, brows furrowed in thought and the corners of his mouth turned down a little. His eyes wander, trying to dredge up the memory. He had a reason, he remembers. What was it again? ]
... You were in trouble. [ He says it slowly, but after a beat of silence, it's clear that it's the only answer he has to offer. ]
[ He follows her gaze and seems to notice the scars for the first time, tentatively feels along them with the tips of his fingers. He laughs a little, then lets his head fall back. ]
Nice story, at least. "Got stupid, tried protectin' a Siren."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He doesn't think at all, actually, because he's working on reflex and instinct and his instinct is screaming protect her she needs help protect her , so he's running to her side, sliding on his knees the last few feet. ]
Fuck-- Maya--?
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Maya is barely able to mumble that she's fine when the wind kicks up. Dust and debris is sent flying everywhere, crates and merchant stands are toppled. She feels herself begin to move, pushed by the sheer force of the gale, and makes a grab for Peter's arm, for all the good that will do them.
There is a man in deep blue and dark grey robes making his way towards them. His hood is up to cover his face, and he doesn't seem bothered by the wind at all. ]
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Silly little human, says the prick voice, protecting a demon from a wizard. What good will you do?
With the force of the wind, he knows standing will be a really terrible idea, moving to take the offensive even worse, so Peter's forced to stay kneeling, shifting to use the spaces between the cobblestone to help keep him in place against the gale. He pulls out his knife with one hand, his other scrabbling for some kind of hold on the ground.
Peter would like, in that moment, to make some sort of pithy remark, something brave to show he's not afraid, but no words come -- and even if they did, the wind would simply whip the noise away. So he grips his knife tightly, muscles coiled to act, and there's a fierceness in his eyes, a defiance, that screams, Don't you fucking dare. ]
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Then she catches a glimpse of his knife as he draws it, and something in her chest twists when she realizes he's protecting her.
She has not time to ponder why he would do that, or why it makes her feel the way it does, because the wind dies down as suddenly as it started. It was as much a tactic to disorient them as it was to clear the streets, because the townsfolk have fled indoors and out of the way. Lightning crackles on the wizard's fingertips as he regards Peter from beneath his hood. ]
Just what do you think you're doing?
[ Maya realizes with a start that she knows that voice, even if it has aged twenty-seven years. Mordo.
Sophis' little brother. ]
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Something stupid, probably.
[ He felt the way Maya tensed at the sound of the man's voice, and he thinks, Not good. He wants to glance at her over his shoulder, try for something reassuring, but his instinct is telling him not to take his eyes off this guy. Maybe it's the old Ravager paranoia, maybe just the fact that this guy has magic that's clearly strong as hell, but Peter is watching his approach with sharp eyes.
With the threat of being blown away out of the picture, for now, Peter shifts his position yet again to put himself in a better spot to spring, if need be. Not standing, not yet, because the storm could return at any moment. ]
Look, man, why don't you just back off, go about your merry way, and we can forget this ever happened? No one gets hurt, and everyone leaves with their faces intact.
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[ Well, that answers one question. Maya, in the meantime, has made her way up to her knees. ] I swear to whatever god you believe in, Mordo- if you hurt him, I'll end you just as I ended your brother.
[ That was probably the wrong thing to say, because it sets Mordo off. ] Demon bitch! [ he practically screeches it, and lightning lances from his fingertips towards Maya. ]
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So when he sees the lightning arching through the air toward Maya, his brain doesn't quite connect the fact that she's a Siren, she'll most likely be fine if she takes the hit, because his instinct is screaming at him, she's in trouble protect her help her she's in trouble, and his reflexes make him turn, shoving her roughly away.
Because Peter is fast, and he never learns.
His entire body seizes when the bolt hits, and suddenly he can't breathe, and there's a white noise rushing through his head and he thinks he might be screaming? But he can't tell, he's not sure of anything, because it hurts, it fucking hurts, please make it stop make it stop--
And then it feels like hours later (but probably it was only seconds), he can breathe again, can move again, but his arms just fall limply at his sides like a marionette with its strings cut. His body aches and he has just enough in him to glance up to Maya (she's alright, good, she's alright), and then the ground is rushing up to meet him. ]
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For a brief, panicked moment, she wonders if she's lost him, but she still feels the tug of the binding they share because of the contract, she sees him look at her, something like relief on his face, before he collapses. She reaches out to catch him, pumping some healing magic into him as she lowers him to the ground. She'll have to fully heal him later- they don't have the luxury of time- but this should help the pain and eliminate any life-threatening damage.
When she looks up at Mordo, there is fire in her pale eyes. ]
You have signed your death warrant, wizard.
[ Her wings unfurl and she launches herself at him. He maybe a magical powerhouse, and he may have spells to counter her own magic, but he's no match for her speed and strength. Honestly, as much as she'd love to set him on fire, she'd take much more satisfaction out of killing him with her bare hands.
She doesn't give him enough time to call up another wind- the dance they do is quick and brutal, as she flits around him like a hummingbird, and he fires errant lightning bolt after lightning bolt, hitting storefronts and lampposts, and anything but the demon and her charge. His hood falls off at one point, revealing a greying man with a severe, joyless expression.
She feints one way, and he takes the bait. She comes up hard and fast on his other side, planting a hand on his face, and digging her fingers into the soft flesh of his cheeks. He screams. He screams as the acid of her magic begins to eat away at his face. He flails a hand at her, but she clamps her free hand down on his arm, his robes beginning to smoke as they're eaten away as well, and her magic bites into the flesh of his arm. He tries to cast a spell, something, anything, but he can't gather his mental faculties enough to even summon a breeze.
She kills him slowly by degrees, wings and tattoos bright and eyes wild. He screams as long as he can, until his face is eaten away, and all that escapes him is a sad, desperate gurgle, before he goes limp. With a bright flash of flame, she reduces the body to ash.
The town has gone dead quiet- no one dares peek out of their doors or windows, no one dares to breathe. The Siren walks over to where Peter lay, crouching and brushing a hand through his hair. ]
You are a damn fool, Peter Quill. [ She doesn't sound angry- in fact, there's genuine affection in her voice. Carefully as she can, she picks him up and dashes away, out of town and into the nearby forest. She takes him as far away as she can, finding an abandoned bear's den. She builds a fire for light and warmth, and begins the process of healing him. Stripping off his coat and shirt, she places her hand on his chest- the lightning left quite a mark, an ugly red burn left over by the electricity that had coursed through his veins, shaped rather like a lightning bolt itself. Blue light rolls through her tattoos like waves, flowing into his body and mending the damage. ]
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The first thing he's aware of is a deep ache all over his body -- so, he's not dead. And hey, isn't that something? He thinks there might just be a vice constricting his skull though, and while breathing isn't difficult, neither is it particularly easy, as it should be. It sort of feels like something heavy is weighing down his chest -- but at least he's breathing, so small victories, there.
The next thing he's aware of is warmth and the sound of crackling -- campfire, maybe? Seems like a safe enough bet, considering he's lying on his back, not uncomfortably. Probably not imprisoned somewhere, but he won't know for sure until he opens his eyes.
Which he really doesn't want to do.
But he does it anyway, because he's an idiot, and the light from the fire assaults his vision (fuck, too bright, too bright) and he's forced to screw his eyes shut again while he waits for the throbbing in his head to die down. He tries again with more success, sees that he's in some sort of-- cave? A den? Whatever, it's not a jail, at least. Getting better and better.
He doesn't know how he got here, though, and he tries to remember back to-- before. Whatever before was. His eyes slip shut again and he thinks-- getting supplies-- town-- being followed-- attacked-- screaming-- wind and lightning-- Maya--
Maya.
He bolts upright, her name on his lips, but the sound of it is choked off with a gasp and a curse. Every muscle in his body, it seemed, chose that exact second to scream at him, protesting the sudden movement, and he falls back, curling up against the pain and taking quick, labored breaths.
Check off another mistake, then. It's a damn shame that he still probably hasn't hit quota yet, though. ]
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She's just outside the den when he wakes, and it's hard to miss the sound of him struggling to breathe. She rushes in, knapsack and bow slung over her shoulder, a dead rabbit dangling by the ears in one hand. ]
Peter?
[ she sets their things aside, and crouches next to him. Her tattoos are already glowing, and she rests her hand on his chest again, letting her magic heal and soothe. ]
Easy. You're okay. Just breathe.
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He does as directed, though: he just breathes, trying to ignore the pervasive ache. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.
The funny thing is, he doesn't remember screwing his eyes shut until he's opening them, looking up at her through a half-lidded gaze. ]
Maya? [ His throat feels raw, like it's been coated with gravel, and his voice certainly matches that sensation. The memory of the attack floats its way back to the surface and he frowns at her, suddenly concerned. ] You're okay?
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I'm fine, I promise.
Please don't strain yourself. That lightning strike was nasty.
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Nah, it's nothin'. Had worse.
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You're lucky to be alive.
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He turns his head away a little, chagrined, and swallows thickly. ]
... Sorry. I-- [ He exhales slowly. ] ... sorry.
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Why did you push me out of the way?
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... You were in trouble. [ He says it slowly, but after a beat of silence, it's clear that it's the only answer he has to offer. ]
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[ again, she falls quiet, eyes searching his face. She doesn't look angry, just contemplative. Maybe a little hesitant. ]
... No one has ever done that for me before.
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[ He can't help it -- he smirks a little. ]
Well. Never been struck by lightning 'fore.
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[ she glances down at his chest, at the angry red marks that her magic did nothing to diminish. ] You're going to carry that for a while.
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Nice story, at least. "Got stupid, tried protectin' a Siren."
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It was stupid and ill-advised, but I appreciate the gesture.
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Stupid's what I do.
[ He shifts, trying to get more comfortable, but a thought occurs to him. ]
Guy taken care of?
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... I caught a rabbit earlier. Are you hungry?
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He thinks he should probably eat something, so he just nods. Then after a second, ] We have any water?
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