... 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. ]
[ She gasps as the air is driven from her lungs, and unfamiliar pain blossoms from the back of her head and shoulders where she made impact with the tree trunk.
For a startling second she thinks he really is going to kill her, and all she can think is, I'm so sorry. It wasn't supposed to end this way.
But then precious oxygen rushes back into her lungs, and she just breathes for as long as she dares. He's let her live, and he's looking at her like she has something to say. She doesn't, but she has enough freedom of movement to slip the chain of the amulet over his head.
Even if he kills her before it takes effect, then at least she dies knowing that he'll be back to himself after a while. ]
[ At her movement, he snarls again and lifts a fist to strike her, but the spell is already attuned to him, has had decades to adapt to his unique make-up, and the effect is nearly instant when the pendant settles around his neck.
Pain blossoms behind his eyes first, and a scream is ripped from his throat in voice that isn't recognizably his. He staggers back, clutching his temples as it travels down his spine. Nausea and dizziness hit him next, a wave of it sends him crashing to his knees as bile creeps up his throat.
And then-- his body is freezing and it hurts, and it feels like his skin has been pulled taut over a drum. Every nerve screams and burns -- and then a numbness washes over him and for a long moment he feels like can't breathe--
But then his lungs suddenly draw air, and he pitches forward, catching himself and dropping to his elbows, stopping just short of getting a face full of dirt.
For at least a full minute he just breathes as the numbness leaves him (and how the fuck does numbness hurt, anyway? It's just his luck that it does). His limbs feel like liquid as he settles back to sit on the ground, and bleary eyes -- clear and green and most certainly his -- look up and find Maya.
When he speaks, he sounds almost drugged, voice thick and words slurred. ]
[ She barely notices the familiar strength rushing back into her body, the way it pushes aside the pain and her senses sharpen instantly. Her eyes are fixed on Peter, and she watches, helpless, as the demon in him is pushed down, down, somewhere deep and dark and forgotten.
Somewhere better left forgotten.
She crouches next to him, one hand on his shoulder, one on his chest. She pours healing magic into him almost desperately. Part of her feels responsible for this, and though she doesn't know if it will work, she wants to try and take some of the pain away. ]
[ The magic helps, but his body still feels heavy and sluggish, and everything is sort of dull and indistinct around the edges. The combined effect of her healing magic and the amulet's spell make him drowsy, and he slumps forward, head resting on her shoulder. ]
Stopped for water? Then-- [ He struggles, frowning. ] Think-- bandits...
[ From where he leans against Maya, he can see the sprawled out legs of one of the thieves' bodies. The sight doesn't trigger a memory as much as it does feelings, and he remembers anger-- satisfaction-- bloodlust--
He's frozen to the spot, and he keeps staring with wide eyes, and he doesn't realize it, but he's shaking all over. ]
[ If he feels any offense at being treated like a child, he doesn't say, opting instead to cling to her -- because something happened, that much he knows, and flashes of emotions and feelings keep floating to the surface unbidden.
Panic threatens to bubble over (because there's a blank spot where the past few minutes should be, and his hands keep clenching into fists, and there's this residual urge to rip something--) but Maya's presence is reassuring, and her touch grounds him, keeps hysteria at bay.
After a while, he manages to calm down enough to ask, ] What happened?
... Peter, I'm going to be honest with you. [ she said it before that it isn't in her nature to placate, and she doesn't have it in her to lie or dodge the subject. ] And the honest truth is that I don't know if you're in the right state of mind to hear what happened.
[ There's a long moment where he lets her words sink in -- but he doesn't argue. He's not really feeling up to it, so she's at least right on that count.
And he trusts her judgement, anyway, trusts that she'll tell him in time, but it's not hard to parse out that he's done something extra shitty. He just can't figure out how he figures in with the acrid smell of burnt flesh.
He scrubs his face with his hands and sits up, focusing entirely on Maya to avoid looking at the bodies just visible from the corners of his eyes. Whatever's happened has left him feeling like he's been weighed down, and all he wants to do is sleep -- but so close to town, surrounded the bodies of four (weren't there five?) recently decommissioned bandits, isn't exactly an optimal position. ]
Need to keep moving. [ He doesn't realize the way his words are running together like he's only half awake. ] Gonna get caught.
[ For a moment she just watches him, watches the way he breathes and how peaceful he looks. She runs her fingers through his hair, and brings them down to trace his jawline. ]
I'm sorry. I was careless.
... And I have no idea how I'm going to tell you what you are.
[ She sets him down gently, and moves to pick up their things. Though not before she gets rid of the remaining bodies the same way she got rid of Mordo- with flashes of white-hot flame, they're reduced to ash in seconds.
That done, and with Peter's bag and weapons slung over one shoulder, she picks him up. Staying in town is probably too risky, and besides, he'll likely be glad for solitude when the truth comes to light.
They were going to resupply, but with Peter unconscious in her arms, they don't have that luxury. So she heads north, towards the looming mountain peaks in the distance, putting as much distance between them and the sight of... whatever that was, as she can.
But the sky begins to darken and thunder rolls in the distance. Fortunately she comes across an old cabin before the rain begins to fall. Judging by the rust on the door hinges and the layers of dust covering everything, it hasn't been used in a while. But there's a fireplace, and a bed. Rain begins coming down in sheets, and it's likely that they won't be going anywhere for a while anyway, so she tucks Peter into the bed and builds a fire.
Maya herself pulls an old chair over and just... sits by the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. ]
[ At some point, he thinks, he really has to stop waking up to unfamiliar ceilings.
At least he's not in pain, aside from the usual stiffness and little aches that come from a deep sleep, and that's a definite improvement over the last time he woke somewhere new and strange. For at least half of a minute, with the rain providing a constant white noise as it pounds on the roof, he contemplates drifting back to sleep.
But they were in a hurry, weren't they? Well, maybe not in a hurry, but there was definite discussion about not staying in one place too long, for fear of getting caught, and he wonders if it's the rain or him that's keeping them holed up here. Probably both, but he's trekked through worst weather than this.
So he sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and turns, looking for-- ah, there she is, sitting beside the bed. He wonders how long she's been there, watching him wake. ]
How long was I out? [ His voice is still thick and hoarse, but it's a marked improvement over his speech from before, with different forms of magic pulling him down into unconsciousness, making his everything lethargic and heavy. ]
[ He's rubbing his eyes again, and he misses the movement, but he glances back at her when he's done. ]
Tired, but fine.
[ He looks around the room, at the dust-covered floor and the crackling fire. The cabin is an old one, that much he can tell, and despite its poor maintenance, it does an admirable job of keeping the rain and the wind out.
He shuts his eyes and draws up his legs a little, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The sound of the rain is seriously making him want to curl up and pass out again, and he wonders if whatever sickness from before was the cause of it--
He starts at the memory. ]
Shit. Are you okay? You weren't feeling great earlier, either.
[ The look she gives him is serious and appraising and- try as she might- her eyes keep sliding back to the glint of silver around his neck. She purses her lips, finally catching and holding his gaze. ]
Are you ready to talk about what happened back there? You're going to need to know- so I will tell you eventually, but I want to know if you're ready now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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For a startling second she thinks he really is going to kill her, and all she can think is, I'm so sorry. It wasn't supposed to end this way.
But then precious oxygen rushes back into her lungs, and she just breathes for as long as she dares. He's let her live, and he's looking at her like she has something to say. She doesn't, but she has enough freedom of movement to slip the chain of the amulet over his head.
Even if he kills her before it takes effect, then at least she dies knowing that he'll be back to himself after a while. ]
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Pain blossoms behind his eyes first, and a scream is ripped from his throat in voice that isn't recognizably his. He staggers back, clutching his temples as it travels down his spine. Nausea and dizziness hit him next, a wave of it sends him crashing to his knees as bile creeps up his throat.
And then-- his body is freezing and it hurts, and it feels like his skin has been pulled taut over a drum. Every nerve screams and burns -- and then a numbness washes over him and for a long moment he feels like can't breathe--
But then his lungs suddenly draw air, and he pitches forward, catching himself and dropping to his elbows, stopping just short of getting a face full of dirt.
For at least a full minute he just breathes as the numbness leaves him (and how the fuck does numbness hurt, anyway? It's just his luck that it does). His limbs feel like liquid as he settles back to sit on the ground, and bleary eyes -- clear and green and most certainly his -- look up and find Maya.
When he speaks, he sounds almost drugged, voice thick and words slurred. ]
Maya? Wh' the fuck happened...?
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Somewhere better left forgotten.
She crouches next to him, one hand on his shoulder, one on his chest. She pours healing magic into him almost desperately. Part of her feels responsible for this, and though she doesn't know if it will work, she wants to try and take some of the pain away. ]
Are you okay? What--- what do you remember?
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[ The magic helps, but his body still feels heavy and sluggish, and everything is sort of dull and indistinct around the edges. The combined effect of her healing magic and the amulet's spell make him drowsy, and he slumps forward, head resting on her shoulder. ]
Stopped for water? Then-- [ He struggles, frowning. ] Think-- bandits...
[ From where he leans against Maya, he can see the sprawled out legs of one of the thieves' bodies. The sight doesn't trigger a memory as much as it does feelings, and he remembers anger-- satisfaction-- bloodlust--
He's frozen to the spot, and he keeps staring with wide eyes, and he doesn't realize it, but he's shaking all over. ]
Don't remember-- did I--?
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It's okay. It's fine. We're okay now and that's what matters.
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Panic threatens to bubble over (because there's a blank spot where the past few minutes should be, and his hands keep clenching into fists, and there's this residual urge to rip something--) but Maya's presence is reassuring, and her touch grounds him, keeps hysteria at bay.
After a while, he manages to calm down enough to ask, ] What happened?
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And he trusts her judgement, anyway, trusts that she'll tell him in time, but it's not hard to parse out that he's done something extra shitty. He just can't figure out how he figures in with the acrid smell of burnt flesh.
He scrubs his face with his hands and sits up, focusing entirely on Maya to avoid looking at the bodies just visible from the corners of his eyes. Whatever's happened has left him feeling like he's been weighed down, and all he wants to do is sleep -- but so close to town, surrounded the bodies of four (weren't there five?) recently decommissioned bandits, isn't exactly an optimal position. ]
Need to keep moving. [ He doesn't realize the way his words are running together like he's only half awake. ] Gonna get caught.
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I'll get us somewhere safe.
[ I owe you that much. ]
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[ His little smirk at that is a distant one, followed up by a frown, but his eyes are already starting to droop. ]
Not-- not a child...
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Let me protect you, Peter. That's what partners do.
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That's just fighting dirty.
He hesitates a few moments longer before nodding again and leaning forward against her. ]
'Kay. Trust you.
[ And with Maya's healing magic generally making him drowsy, and the calming effect of the amulet working overtime, he's unconscious in an instant. ]
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I'm sorry. I was careless.
... And I have no idea how I'm going to tell you what you are.
[ She sets him down gently, and moves to pick up their things. Though not before she gets rid of the remaining bodies the same way she got rid of Mordo- with flashes of white-hot flame, they're reduced to ash in seconds.
That done, and with Peter's bag and weapons slung over one shoulder, she picks him up. Staying in town is probably too risky, and besides, he'll likely be glad for solitude when the truth comes to light.
They were going to resupply, but with Peter unconscious in her arms, they don't have that luxury. So she heads north, towards the looming mountain peaks in the distance, putting as much distance between them and the sight of... whatever that was, as she can.
But the sky begins to darken and thunder rolls in the distance. Fortunately she comes across an old cabin before the rain begins to fall. Judging by the rust on the door hinges and the layers of dust covering everything, it hasn't been used in a while. But there's a fireplace, and a bed. Rain begins coming down in sheets, and it's likely that they won't be going anywhere for a while anyway, so she tucks Peter into the bed and builds a fire.
Maya herself pulls an old chair over and just... sits by the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. ]
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At least he's not in pain, aside from the usual stiffness and little aches that come from a deep sleep, and that's a definite improvement over the last time he woke somewhere new and strange. For at least half of a minute, with the rain providing a constant white noise as it pounds on the roof, he contemplates drifting back to sleep.
But they were in a hurry, weren't they? Well, maybe not in a hurry, but there was definite discussion about not staying in one place too long, for fear of getting caught, and he wonders if it's the rain or him that's keeping them holed up here. Probably both, but he's trekked through worst weather than this.
So he sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and turns, looking for-- ah, there she is, sitting beside the bed. He wonders how long she's been there, watching him wake. ]
How long was I out? [ His voice is still thick and hoarse, but it's a marked improvement over his speech from before, with different forms of magic pulling him down into unconsciousness, making his everything lethargic and heavy. ]
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[ She reaches for him- though really she's not sure why, so she stops herself, letting her hand drop. Her eyes flick to the amulet around his neck. ]
How do you feel?
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Tired, but fine.
[ He looks around the room, at the dust-covered floor and the crackling fire. The cabin is an old one, that much he can tell, and despite its poor maintenance, it does an admirable job of keeping the rain and the wind out.
He shuts his eyes and draws up his legs a little, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The sound of the rain is seriously making him want to curl up and pass out again, and he wonders if whatever sickness from before was the cause of it--
He starts at the memory. ]
Shit. Are you okay? You weren't feeling great earlier, either.
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Are you ready to talk about what happened back there? You're going to need to know- so I will tell you eventually, but I want to know if you're ready now.
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