[ 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.
[ He doesn't even notice the pendant hanging from his neck until the second time she glances at it -- and on the final time he grasps it, pulling it up and over his head to hold the pendant in his hand. He glances up at her, trying for a smirk, but it's clearly a nervous one. ]
The way you're talking about it isn't very reassuring, I can tell you that much. Whatever happened, it couldn't have been that bad, right?
[ His smile falters entirely, and the way Maya looks, the way she sounds, is really starting to freak him out. His words are far sharper than he means them to be. ]
But maybe he's misunderstood. Maybe he's jumping to conclusions. So when he looks back at her, he looks desperate, panicked. His eyes are slightly wide and his breath is starting to go ragged. ]
[ For a long time, all he does is stare down at the amulet in his hand -- small, silver, engraved with a simple, swirling design. He's carried it everyday of his life for twenty-six years.
Maya wouldn't lie to him. It isn't in her nature. She couldn't be mistaken about this, either, that much he knows -- she wouldn't have said anything unless she was sure.
The panic goes out of him, the desperation and the fear, and he just feels-- blank. And when he speaks, he sounds strangely detached. ]
[ He presses the heel of his palms to his eyes, the pendant danging around the chain hooked around his thumb, and he still sounds numb, despite the sarcastic tilt of his words. ]
Should I feel better or worse about that? "You're a demon, but at least you're unique"?
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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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The way you're talking about it isn't very reassuring, I can tell you that much. Whatever happened, it couldn't have been that bad, right?
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Maya, just-- just fucking tell me.
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It stopped working on you.
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[ --Oh.
With that, he suddenly goes numb.
But maybe he's misunderstood. Maybe he's jumping to conclusions. So when he looks back at her, he looks desperate, panicked. His eyes are slightly wide and his breath is starting to go ragged. ]
What the hell are you talking about?
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... Well, half actually. I think. But I saw it with my own eyes.
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Maya wouldn't lie to him. It isn't in her nature. She couldn't be mistaken about this, either, that much he knows -- she wouldn't have said anything unless she was sure.
The panic goes out of him, the desperation and the fear, and he just feels-- blank. And when he speaks, he sounds strangely detached. ]
I killed those men, didn't I?
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The things you can do... I've never seen its like. I've only heard stories.
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Should I feel better or worse about that? "You're a demon, but at least you're unique"?
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