Well-- it's certainly not something I expected, I can tell you that much.
[ His presses his lips together into a thin line, still thoughtful. Then-- ] As long as it isn't dangerous, it's nothing to worry about, right? I guess if I've had it all these years then something would've happened by now.
I honestly don't think there's anything malicious about it.
[ In fact, she's kind of okay just sitting here holding it. She's tired, suddenly, but because she's never really been tired before, she mistakes it for the calming nature of the amulet making her lazy. ]
[ For Peter's part, a headache is starting to bloom just behind his temples -- probably overexertion, he thinks. He takes another pull from the skein of water and lets his head fall back against the tree, eyes slipping shut.
There's a quiet snap of a twig nearby, but Peter doesn't notice it. ]
Do you think I should try to get it-- disenchanted or something?
I don't-- [ she did hear it, though it was awfully faint. Their pursuer must be some distance away, yet, right? Weird that she didn't sense them, but perhaps it's more of the Order's wizards? That certainly doesn't bode well, and she braces herself. ]
[ He feels her tense, and even before she speaks he's alert.
What she says, of course, makes him regret the fact that his head is really starting to ache. He's starting to feel a little dizzy, and his skin feels flushed and-- shit, was there something in the water?
He slips his bow off as casually as he can manage, trying to make it appear as though he's getting more comfortable. ]
... That-- is definitely not something I wanted to hear.
[ His eyes slip shut again, but he's paying attention this time, listening for the sound of movement. Suddenly he-- senses something, like eyes on the back of his neck, and he just knows. He speaks before he's aware of himself. ]
Five of them. Behind us.
[ His eyes snap open, and he feels a twinge behind his temple, and his hand goes up to massage it. He adds, ] I think.
[ He's shaking his head, every bit as confused as she is. His body feels-- weird. Really weird, like he has the flu or something? Did these guys poison the stream or something? ]
Don't think so. I don't-- I think they're just thieves.
[ He swallows thickly, hand tightening around his bow. ] Now's probably a bad time to tell you I feel sick as fuck right now, isn't it.
... Yes, probably. [ she still has that weird heavy feeling in her limbs, and decides it might be best if she puts the amulet away. Back into the pack it goes, but she's a little distressed to find that the feeling doesn't go away. ]
Well, [ he says, and he senses movement behind them; he rises to a knee, ] I think we're fucked.
[ On reflex he grabs an arrow from his quiver, turns, aims, and shoots, and even with the unsteadiness of his limbs, he manages to catch one of the bandits in the gut. Peter seriously feels sick, like he's about to throw up, and he's sweating now, his body too fucking hot and every nerve is starting to scream.
Four bandits running at them, then. Better than five. His hands are shaking as he nocks another arrow, but his aim isn't as true this time-- something hot shoots up his spine and his shot goes wild. ]
[ She gets up- a little awkwardly, for some reason- raising a hand to pop one of the bandits up in her phaselock. Her tattoos shimmer with a faint blue light, then go dull and lifeless. Try as she might, her powers seem to have vanished. ]
I-- I can't?
[ She seems dazed by the revelation, but an arrow goes whizzing by her head and she snaps out of it, putting herself back behind their tree.
[ 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. ]
[ Maya just... stares. Watching the entire scene wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
Peter is a demon. The realization hits her before the bandit even utters the word.
Peter is a demon. It explains the power she sensed in him, and the ease with which he used the spells from her book.
Peter is a godsdamned demon. But it does not explain why he'd shown no signs of it before. Or why her own powers vanished in the face of his. How could he have possibly gone all this time without--
The amulet. Of course. It stood to reason that his mother would want to keep him safe, and the safest place for a demon (or half-demon? Was his mother even human at all?) to be was hidden. Better for her little boy to live a normal life.
The amulet was a suppressor, and the strange heaviness in her limbs was normal human fatigue. Her prolonged contact with it must have altered the targeting of the suppression spell- a spell that a demon wouldn't be able to sense.
She glances down at Peter's pack, and very gingerly fishes the amulet from the pocket where she placed it. She keeps it hidden in the palm of her hand as she very slowly and gingerly approaches him. She's vulnerable, and what she just saw him do? That was old, that was powerful. That was scary. ]
[ He continues to stare fixedly at the body as Maya takes out the amulet. The smashed skull, the grey mush mixing with blood and bone, the burnt bits of flesh from where his hands made contact -- quite interesting indeed.
His back is to her, but he hears her approach -- of course he does, why wouldn't he? The only outward sign of it, at first, is a tiny little twitch of his head to the side. His body is stock-still, muscles tense and coiled and prepped to pounce. He turns slowly toward her as she draws closer, black eyes unrecognizing and wary. ]
[ She has the good sense to stop moving, and goes as still as she can manage. Her mind is racing for something to say to prevent the worst.
Not that she's afraid of dying, but she knows he would never forgive her for turning him loose on the world in this state. That thought alone is enough to break her heart.
She steels herself, and forces her voice to sound much more confident than she feels. ]
You can't hurt me, Peter. We have a contract.
[ She can only hope- hope that their binding is still active, and that he can sense the invisible threads tying them together. And hope that whatever has awakened in him chooses to respect that. ]
[ For a long while, he simply stares at her, head tipped slightly to the side. His gaze roves over the tattoos on her left side, and a small part of him recognizes them, even if he doesn't recognize her.
Siren.
His hands curl into fists at the mention of the contract, and he focuses, feeling the tug of something connecting the two of them. He finds he doesn't like it. He doesn't want to be bound, and the reminder of it -- the threat of it -- makes him snarl.
In an instant, his muscles uncoil and he slams her into a tree, forearm braced against her neck.
But there are things that cannot be broken, and some instinct stops him from ripping out her throat and putting an end to their agreement, like he wants to do -- some small voice screaming stop, don't, not her, please in his head.
He looks at her -- really looks, -- eyes narrowed and lips pulled away from his teeth, and still that voice in his head, not her, not her.
And after a long moment, he pulls back, relieving some of the pressure he had put on her neck -- not enough to free her, but enough to keep her breathing. He tips his chin down, just a twitch of a movement, as if to tell her to say her piece. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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-- Okay he blinks again.
-- Yep, okay, three times.
When he finally speaks, it's slowly and evenly. ]
What are you talking about?
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But when I hold it, I just sort of feel... I don't know. Calm?
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Mom didn't know any magic. Hell, we didn't even know anyone who knew magic. There weren't any wizards or enchanters for miles.
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But there's certainly nothing harmful about it.
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Well... she was sick a lot. Maybe it-- helped, somehow. I don't know.
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[ she turns it over in her hands a couple of times, inspecting the markings. ]
... I'm sorry. I doubt this was something you wanted to hear.
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[ His presses his lips together into a thin line, still thoughtful. Then-- ] As long as it isn't dangerous, it's nothing to worry about, right? I guess if I've had it all these years then something would've happened by now.
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[ In fact, she's kind of okay just sitting here holding it. She's tired, suddenly, but because she's never really been tired before, she mistakes it for the calming nature of the amulet making her lazy. ]
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[ For Peter's part, a headache is starting to bloom just behind his temples -- probably overexertion, he thinks. He takes another pull from the skein of water and lets his head fall back against the tree, eyes slipping shut.
There's a quiet snap of a twig nearby, but Peter doesn't notice it. ]
Do you think I should try to get it-- disenchanted or something?
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... I think someone's found us.
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What she says, of course, makes him regret the fact that his head is really starting to ache. He's starting to feel a little dizzy, and his skin feels flushed and-- shit, was there something in the water?
He slips his bow off as casually as he can manage, trying to make it appear as though he's getting more comfortable. ]
Which way are they coming from?
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[ His eyes slip shut again, but he's paying attention this time, listening for the sound of movement. Suddenly he-- senses something, like eyes on the back of his neck, and he just knows. He speaks before he's aware of himself. ]
Five of them. Behind us.
[ His eyes snap open, and he feels a twinge behind his temple, and his hand goes up to massage it. He adds, ] I think.
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But for now she just rolls with it. Stay alive first, ask questions later. ]
Is it the Order?
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Don't think so. I don't-- I think they're just thieves.
[ He swallows thickly, hand tightening around his bow. ] Now's probably a bad time to tell you I feel sick as fuck right now, isn't it.
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I'm... not exactly feeling well myself.
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[ On reflex he grabs an arrow from his quiver, turns, aims, and shoots, and even with the unsteadiness of his limbs, he manages to catch one of the bandits in the gut. Peter seriously feels sick, like he's about to throw up, and he's sweating now, his body too fucking hot and every nerve is starting to scream.
Four bandits running at them, then. Better than five. His hands are shaking as he nocks another arrow, but his aim isn't as true this time-- something hot shoots up his spine and his shot goes wild. ]
Little help?
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I-- I can't?
[ She seems dazed by the revelation, but an arrow goes whizzing by her head and she snaps out of it, putting herself back behind their tree.
Shit shit shit. What do I do now? ]
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[ 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. ]
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Peter is a demon. The realization hits her before the bandit even utters the word.
Peter is a demon. It explains the power she sensed in him, and the ease with which he used the spells from her book.
Peter is a godsdamned demon. But it does not explain why he'd shown no signs of it before. Or why her own powers vanished in the face of his. How could he have possibly gone all this time without--
The amulet. Of course. It stood to reason that his mother would want to keep him safe, and the safest place for a demon (or half-demon? Was his mother even human at all?) to be was hidden. Better for her little boy to live a normal life.
The amulet was a suppressor, and the strange heaviness in her limbs was normal human fatigue. Her prolonged contact with it must have altered the targeting of the suppression spell- a spell that a demon wouldn't be able to sense.
She glances down at Peter's pack, and very gingerly fishes the amulet from the pocket where she placed it. She keeps it hidden in the palm of her hand as she very slowly and gingerly approaches him. She's vulnerable, and what she just saw him do? That was old, that was powerful. That was scary. ]
Peter?
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His back is to her, but he hears her approach -- of course he does, why wouldn't he? The only outward sign of it, at first, is a tiny little twitch of his head to the side. His body is stock-still, muscles tense and coiled and prepped to pounce. He turns slowly toward her as she draws closer, black eyes unrecognizing and wary. ]
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Not that she's afraid of dying, but she knows he would never forgive her for turning him loose on the world in this state. That thought alone is enough to break her heart.
She steels herself, and forces her voice to sound much more confident than she feels. ]
You can't hurt me, Peter. We have a contract.
[ She can only hope- hope that their binding is still active, and that he can sense the invisible threads tying them together. And hope that whatever has awakened in him chooses to respect that. ]
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Siren.
His hands curl into fists at the mention of the contract, and he focuses, feeling the tug of something connecting the two of them. He finds he doesn't like it. He doesn't want to be bound, and the reminder of it -- the threat of it -- makes him snarl.
In an instant, his muscles uncoil and he slams her into a tree, forearm braced against her neck.
But there are things that cannot be broken, and some instinct stops him from ripping out her throat and putting an end to their agreement, like he wants to do -- some small voice screaming stop, don't, not her, please in his head.
He looks at her -- really looks, -- eyes narrowed and lips pulled away from his teeth, and still that voice in his head, not her, not her.
And after a long moment, he pulls back, relieving some of the pressure he had put on her neck -- not enough to free her, but enough to keep her breathing. He tips his chin down, just a twitch of a movement, as if to tell her to say her piece. ]
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