I'm suggesting you don't kill him. He's just a child. Him and his stupid friends picked the wrong douchebag to rob. That's all. What, are you gonna execute every kid who's born poor, or every kid who's gotta steal so they can have somethin' to eat for the next few days? 'Cause if that's the case, you're gonna have yourself a busy next couple'a' years.
[ He licks his lips, gestures to the monks with a sharp nod. ] They said there's a rebellion brewing. Kill the kid, and he's just gonna become a martyr. If you really wanna offer your dissenters a rallying cry, then be my guest.
[ The fact that he presumes to question her makes her furious. She allows him to get away with a lot, but he's never outright intervened in her affairs before.
What he's saying is logical, and she knows that, but she's wondering if this is where the treachery starts. Direct her now, under the guise of logic, and soon she'll be looking to him for advice, doing what he wants? Not in a million years.
Her right hand comes up, tattoos flaring bright cyan, and the boy kneeling on the floor flinches, screwing his eyes shut.
But nothing happens to him. He's not where her wrath is focused for the moment. Her ire, and her phaselock, are aimed at Peter. She holds him suspended in the air a moment, as the onlooking monks try and fail to keep smug looks of satisfaction off their faces. ]
Everyone out. Take the boy to the cells- I'll deal with him later.
[ The monks bow, murmuring things like "yes, of course" and "as you wish" as they shuffle out, taking the child with them.
Once they're gone, Maya gives a wave of her arm, sending the phaselock bubble, and consequently Peter, careening into the nearest wall. She lets him drop to the floor without ceremony. ]
[ See, Quill, this is what you get for stickin' your neck out for some punk stupid enough to get caught.
He crashes into the wall and falls to the floor in a heap, and for a while there, all he sees are flashes of light in his vision. There'd probably a halo of swirling stars around his head and a cuckoo clock going off, if this were a cartoon. But it's not, this is real life, and motherfucker, that hurt.
Peter shakes his head to clear his vision, shoves himself up, forces himself to get to his feet. He's already in deep enough -- if she's gonna kill him, then she's gonna kill him. The merc might be fast, but the Siren can stop him with a mere thought and a gesture. So he grits his teeth, sets his shoulders.
He had a good run, right? ]
Apparently I'm the only asshole around here not afraid to call you on your bullshit, Your Worship.
It's takes longer for him to get up this time, but he manages it by using the wall for support. ]
What's it fucking matter what I say? [ He grits it out-- he thinks that last time might've fucked up his shoulder. ] You're not listening to me anyway, right? That's why you're tossing me around like a fucking rag doll.
You're crazy as hell and no one will call you on it, 'cause your only reaction to problems is to fucking squash it. I mean, Jesus Christ, I thought I had a fucked up childhood, but clearly someone didn't hug you enough.
[ Not once in her twenty-seven years of life has anyone dared to talk to her like that. It makes her... god, she doesn't know, so her reaction is just to get angrier.
Peter is bigger than her, but he's hurting from his collision with the wall, and the Siren is certainly stronger than she looks. Which is why she's closing the distance between them, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and shoving him back into the wall ]
Shut up.
[ She glares at him, eyes and wings blazing ]
I spared your life once, Peter Quill. I gave you a job- one far better than someone like you could ever hope to get- and now this is how you repay me?
[ He grunts with the impact, teeth clamping down on his lower lip to avoid crying out like he wants to. (Because fuck, that hurt. Definitely fucked his shoulder.) He doesn't want to give her the satisfaction. ]
Sorry I don't suck up to you, kiss your ass like all the other dumbfucks around here. Holy hell, man, if you wanna surround yourself with people who won't fucking talk to you like a person, then fine. If you wanna keep a bunch of sycophants and kiss-asses to just nod along with everything you say, and help you turn your planet into a giant pile of ash, then go ahead. It's your life you're runnin' into the ground, man.
[ He uses his good arm to shove against her. ]
If you wanna kill me so bad, then fucking do it. Better than trying to play your shitty-ass games and jumping through your stupid hoops. Fucking sick of it.
[ She should kill him. She should immolate him right where he stands. She's done worse for far less.
So why hasn't she?
It's a question she doesn't want to explore the answer to. As a Siren warrior, she should be infallible. Without weakness. Yet here was this man, talking to her like she's never been spoken to before, brutal and honest and angry, and she's done nothing but make empty threats and toss him around.
She's furious, at herself and at him. Her pulse is pounding, face reddening with anger. She maintains her grip on his shirt as he tries to shove her off, digging her boots in against the smooth stone of the floor and pushing back as best she can. ]
If you're looking for an end to our agreement, one way or another, it isn't going to happen. You're going to stay, and you're going to learn to be silent or I will show you a fate worse than death.
[ Peter is not a suicidal person, but neither is he stupid enough to think he'll live to see old age. Not with the life he leads or the people he knows. So when the Siren starts throwing him around the room, he thinks, This is it. Here I go. He isn't happy about the prospect of being six feet under or scooped up into a jar or whatever, depending on how she kills him, but in those short few moments, he accepts it.
-- Which is why what she says brings everything in his head to a grinding halt.
She's angry enough for the both of them, because his own fury disappears almost instantly, replaced with confusion that's written on his face. ]
[ The moment she moves back, Peter's free hand goes to his shoulder. He licks his lips, expecting some kind of trick, and regards her with an open wariness. ]
What, that's it? Not gonna shoot me in the head or blow me up with your mind powers? I gotta figure murderin' people is as easy as breathin’ to you.
[ She turns away, wings dissipating, and moves for the door. ] Now, I have a little criminal to deal with. Come along or don't. It doesn't matter to me.
[ Jesus fucking Christ, this woman is terrifying. But this all started because of this kid, and there's no way in hell Peter isn't seeing this through. After the tantrum she threw, he's expecting her to execute the boy -- someone ought to be there to mourn his passing.
So holding his shoulder, he moves after her, silent and resigned -- but they do have a deal, after all. He's getting paid to watch her back, so if he doesn't, how can he expect to get his money? The monks sure as hell won't give it to him, after all. ]
[ She sweeps down to the dungeons, practically radiating cold fury. The monks give her a wider berth than usual.
The cells beneath the Abbey stand empty, save for the one holding the boy. Maya isn't in the habit of keeping prisoners. She dismisses the single guard abruptly, and judging by the way he hurries off, he's glad to leave.
Once they're alone, Maya crouches by the bars to the boy's cell. The child in question is curled in a back corner, trying to quiet his sobs, but whatever bravery he possessed earlier seems to have left him. ]
There, there little one. There's no need to cry.
[ Her words should be reassuring, comforting, but there's a cold edge to her tone that betrays her intentions. After a moment, she seems to be bored with the act, and she waves her hand, tattoos flashing. The boy falters but doesn't quiet until Maya snaps, ] Stop crying and come here.
[ The response is immediate. The child quiets and gets up, almost mechanically, a strange look in his eyes. He moves to stand in front of where Maya is crouched. The look on her face turns wicked- not even the monks know she has this ability- and she reaches through the bars to caress the boy's cheek with her tattooed hand. He doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink. ]
Hello my little thief. Since Mister Quill here is so intent on my sparing you, I've decided to let you go. I want you to go back to your friends, I want you to tell them I've shown you mercy, and that stealing from the Order is wrong. Tell them you shouldn't have done it in the first place.
And then I want you to throw yourself from the top of the tallest building you can find.
Can you do that for me, little one?
[ The little boy nods once, which seems to be enough for the Siren. She waves him back to his corner and he goes.
Maya rises to her feet, turning to glare at Peter, fire in her gaze. ] Don't try me again, Quill.
[ with that, she sweeps out of the dungeon, not caring if he follows ]
[ He's-- pleasantly surprised, at first, despite that weird display with her tattoos, that coldness in her voice. Maybe she can be reasoned with, after all -- well, in a manner of speaking. Apparently reasoning with her also invovles getting thrown around like a fucking baseball, but if that's what it takes for her to be a decent fucking person, then-- okay. Peter can deal with that. He's a resilient guy.
But then she gives her final command, and something ice cold plummets in his gut, and he nearly misses the way she glares at him, the way she threatens him.
She may not care if Peter follows after her, but follow he does, and at a run, even. ]
What the hell was that? That was-- that was a fucking joke, right? You didn't actually-- he's not actually going to kill himself, is he?
Is this a battle you want to keep fighting? Because I could take your mind from you right now and that would be the end of it. I'd tell you to march down there and shoot him yourself, and you would do it. You wouldn't have any choice.
[ And to think, for a while there, he really thought she was capable of acting like a rational human being. He also thought he was to old to be naive, but apparently he's wrong on both counts.
Apparently being treated like a fucking goddess for her entire life has made the Siren incapable of seeing reason. Who would've thought? And now she apparently has fucking mind control, which he didn't think was possible. What the hell else is she hiding?
Well. Peter doesn't really care. All he knows is he's getting his ass off this planet the first chance he gets. ]
[ Maya isn’t so foolish as to think that Peter will actually want to stick around after that display, so she has him watched- from a distance, of course. The thought crosses her mind more than once that she could just let the mercenary go. After all, what does Peter Quill have that anyone else couldn’t offer her?
Again, that’s a question she’s not sure she wants an answer to. But at this juncture, he’s seen too much, and while anyone on Athenas would probably be quick to dismiss any claims he made that she could control minds as wild rumors (in fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if there already was such a rumor out there), she’s not sure who else is out there that he could go running to.
At least, that’s what she tells herself, but there’s a part of her that knows she’s clinging to him like a selfish child would a toy.
So, several days later, when one of her guards comes to her and tells her that Peter has slipped out of the Abbey, she launches a full-scale search for him. He couldn’t have gotten far, considering the Order commandeered his ship when he’d first landed several months back. While her warriors and soldiers are out scouring around for him, that’s where the Siren heads- the little hangar where they’ve kept his things. One way or another, he’s going to make it back here- either by his wits and dumb luck, or captured and bound. ]
Peter manages to slip past the guards to get out of that fucking Abbey -- it's pretty much Thievery 101, being able to sneak around without being seen. Once he's out, he doesn't expect to be stopped, but neither is he so brazen as to publicize the fact that he wasn't meant to be out by his onesies. Still, the hardest part was leaving, but with that done, who gives a shit, right? After all, what would the Siren care if he left? He's nothing to her except a punching bag and a meat shield, and she has more than enough of those at her disposal.
... Except not even a half hour later, he notices there are more guards and warriors patrolling the area than was ever normal before, and he has the sudden realization that they're looking for him. Jesus fucking Christ, is this woman for real? She really wants to keep him on a tight leash, apparently, and he has no fucking clue why -- especially since she'd recently made it clear that he was an annoyance and a sack of crap to her.
But the guards are easy enough to avoid; their movements and tactics are predictable, and Peter's used to avoiding the authorities, has been well-versed in utilizing alleys and dark corners since he was orphaned at nine-years-old. He slips past all of them again and finds himself at the hangar.
In a different world, Peter would have been gifted his ship after years of improvement and hard work, after showing himself capable of being up to no good. In this world, Peter stole his ship -- and it was, in fact, the best thing he had ever stolen for himself ever. It's a small thing, orange and blue and silver, meant more for short jaunts than intergalactic travel, but he modded the hell out of his baby, made it spaceworthy and his. He grins for the first time in a long while when he spots his ship, relieved they hadn't dismantled it for parts, and after a careful glance around the hangar, he darts toward it.
Maya steps out from behind the vessel when she hears his footfalls sprinting across the floor, her hand comes up and FSHOOM, Peter will once again find himself suspended in her phaselock.
She doesn't fling him across the room this time, at least? ]
As vulnerable as he is like this, as much power as the Siren has at her disposal, he still imbues his gaze and his voice with as much vitriol as he can. ]
Was it not obvious? I'm getting the fuck out of here.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ He licks his lips, gestures to the monks with a sharp nod. ] They said there's a rebellion brewing. Kill the kid, and he's just gonna become a martyr. If you really wanna offer your dissenters a rallying cry, then be my guest.
no subject
What he's saying is logical, and she knows that, but she's wondering if this is where the treachery starts. Direct her now, under the guise of logic, and soon she'll be looking to him for advice, doing what he wants? Not in a million years.
Her right hand comes up, tattoos flaring bright cyan, and the boy kneeling on the floor flinches, screwing his eyes shut.
But nothing happens to him. He's not where her wrath is focused for the moment. Her ire, and her phaselock, are aimed at Peter. She holds him suspended in the air a moment, as the onlooking monks try and fail to keep smug looks of satisfaction off their faces. ]
Everyone out. Take the boy to the cells- I'll deal with him later.
[ The monks bow, murmuring things like "yes, of course" and "as you wish" as they shuffle out, taking the child with them.
Once they're gone, Maya gives a wave of her arm, sending the phaselock bubble, and consequently Peter, careening into the nearest wall. She lets him drop to the floor without ceremony. ]
Just who the hell do you think you are?
no subject
He crashes into the wall and falls to the floor in a heap, and for a while there, all he sees are flashes of light in his vision. There'd probably a halo of swirling stars around his head and a cuckoo clock going off, if this were a cartoon. But it's not, this is real life, and motherfucker, that hurt.
Peter shakes his head to clear his vision, shoves himself up, forces himself to get to his feet. He's already in deep enough -- if she's gonna kill him, then she's gonna kill him. The merc might be fast, but the Siren can stop him with a mere thought and a gesture. So he grits his teeth, sets his shoulders.
He had a good run, right? ]
Apparently I'm the only asshole around here not afraid to call you on your bullshit, Your Worship.
no subject
Give me one good reason not to kill you.
no subject
It's takes longer for him to get up this time, but he manages it by using the wall for support. ]
What's it fucking matter what I say? [ He grits it out-- he thinks that last time might've fucked up his shoulder. ] You're not listening to me anyway, right? That's why you're tossing me around like a fucking rag doll.
You're crazy as hell and no one will call you on it, 'cause your only reaction to problems is to fucking squash it. I mean, Jesus Christ, I thought I had a fucked up childhood, but clearly someone didn't hug you enough.
no subject
Peter is bigger than her, but he's hurting from his collision with the wall, and the Siren is certainly stronger than she looks. Which is why she's closing the distance between them, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and shoving him back into the wall ]
Shut up.
[ She glares at him, eyes and wings blazing ]
I spared your life once, Peter Quill. I gave you a job- one far better than someone like you could ever hope to get- and now this is how you repay me?
no subject
Sorry I don't suck up to you, kiss your ass like all the other dumbfucks around here. Holy hell, man, if you wanna surround yourself with people who won't fucking talk to you like a person, then fine. If you wanna keep a bunch of sycophants and kiss-asses to just nod along with everything you say, and help you turn your planet into a giant pile of ash, then go ahead. It's your life you're runnin' into the ground, man.
[ He uses his good arm to shove against her. ]
If you wanna kill me so bad, then fucking do it. Better than trying to play your shitty-ass games and jumping through your stupid hoops. Fucking sick of it.
no subject
So why hasn't she?
It's a question she doesn't want to explore the answer to. As a Siren warrior, she should be infallible. Without weakness. Yet here was this man, talking to her like she's never been spoken to before, brutal and honest and angry, and she's done nothing but make empty threats and toss him around.
She's furious, at herself and at him. Her pulse is pounding, face reddening with anger. She maintains her grip on his shirt as he tries to shove her off, digging her boots in against the smooth stone of the floor and pushing back as best she can. ]
If you're looking for an end to our agreement, one way or another, it isn't going to happen. You're going to stay, and you're going to learn to be silent or I will show you a fate worse than death.
Am I clear?
no subject
-- Which is why what she says brings everything in his head to a grinding halt.
She's angry enough for the both of them, because his own fury disappears almost instantly, replaced with confusion that's written on his face. ]
... What?
[ Evidently she was not, in fact, clear. ]
no subject
You should know by now I'm not in the habit of repeating myself.
no subject
What, that's it? Not gonna shoot me in the head or blow me up with your mind powers? I gotta figure murderin' people is as easy as breathin’ to you.
no subject
[ She turns away, wings dissipating, and moves for the door. ] Now, I have a little criminal to deal with. Come along or don't. It doesn't matter to me.
no subject
So holding his shoulder, he moves after her, silent and resigned -- but they do have a deal, after all. He's getting paid to watch her back, so if he doesn't, how can he expect to get his money? The monks sure as hell won't give it to him, after all. ]
no subject
The cells beneath the Abbey stand empty, save for the one holding the boy. Maya isn't in the habit of keeping prisoners. She dismisses the single guard abruptly, and judging by the way he hurries off, he's glad to leave.
Once they're alone, Maya crouches by the bars to the boy's cell. The child in question is curled in a back corner, trying to quiet his sobs, but whatever bravery he possessed earlier seems to have left him. ]
There, there little one. There's no need to cry.
[ Her words should be reassuring, comforting, but there's a cold edge to her tone that betrays her intentions. After a moment, she seems to be bored with the act, and she waves her hand, tattoos flashing. The boy falters but doesn't quiet until Maya snaps, ] Stop crying and come here.
[ The response is immediate. The child quiets and gets up, almost mechanically, a strange look in his eyes. He moves to stand in front of where Maya is crouched. The look on her face turns wicked- not even the monks know she has this ability- and she reaches through the bars to caress the boy's cheek with her tattooed hand. He doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink. ]
Hello my little thief. Since Mister Quill here is so intent on my sparing you, I've decided to let you go. I want you to go back to your friends, I want you to tell them I've shown you mercy, and that stealing from the Order is wrong. Tell them you shouldn't have done it in the first place.
And then I want you to throw yourself from the top of the tallest building you can find.
Can you do that for me, little one?
[ The little boy nods once, which seems to be enough for the Siren. She waves him back to his corner and he goes.
Maya rises to her feet, turning to glare at Peter, fire in her gaze. ] Don't try me again, Quill.
[ with that, she sweeps out of the dungeon, not caring if he follows ]
no subject
But then she gives her final command, and something ice cold plummets in his gut, and he nearly misses the way she glares at him, the way she threatens him.
She may not care if Peter follows after her, but follow he does, and at a run, even. ]
What the hell was that? That was-- that was a fucking joke, right? You didn't actually-- he's not actually going to kill himself, is he?
no subject
He'll do whatever I tell him to.
no subject
You can't do this. He's just a fucking kid.
no subject
no subject
Reluctantly, he steps aside, jaw clenched and anger clawing up his throat like bile. ]
You're a fucking monster.
no subject
[ she sounds almost smug, now that she's put him in his place ]
no subject
Apparently being treated like a fucking goddess for her entire life has made the Siren incapable of seeing reason. Who would've thought? And now she apparently has fucking mind control, which he didn't think was possible. What the hell else is she hiding?
Well. Peter doesn't really care. All he knows is he's getting his ass off this planet the first chance he gets. ]
no subject
Again, that’s a question she’s not sure she wants an answer to. But at this juncture, he’s seen too much, and while anyone on Athenas would probably be quick to dismiss any claims he made that she could control minds as wild rumors (in fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if there already was such a rumor out there), she’s not sure who else is out there that he could go running to.
At least, that’s what she tells herself, but there’s a part of her that knows she’s clinging to him like a selfish child would a toy.
So, several days later, when one of her guards comes to her and tells her that Peter has slipped out of the Abbey, she launches a full-scale search for him. He couldn’t have gotten far, considering the Order commandeered his ship when he’d first landed several months back. While her warriors and soldiers are out scouring around for him, that’s where the Siren heads- the little hangar where they’ve kept his things. One way or another, he’s going to make it back here- either by his wits and dumb luck, or captured and bound. ]
no subject
Peter manages to slip past the guards to get out of that fucking Abbey -- it's pretty much Thievery 101, being able to sneak around without being seen. Once he's out, he doesn't expect to be stopped, but neither is he so brazen as to publicize the fact that he wasn't meant to be out by his onesies. Still, the hardest part was leaving, but with that done, who gives a shit, right? After all, what would the Siren care if he left? He's nothing to her except a punching bag and a meat shield, and she has more than enough of those at her disposal.
... Except not even a half hour later, he notices there are more guards and warriors patrolling the area than was ever normal before, and he has the sudden realization that they're looking for him. Jesus fucking Christ, is this woman for real? She really wants to keep him on a tight leash, apparently, and he has no fucking clue why -- especially since she'd recently made it clear that he was an annoyance and a sack of crap to her.
But the guards are easy enough to avoid; their movements and tactics are predictable, and Peter's used to avoiding the authorities, has been well-versed in utilizing alleys and dark corners since he was orphaned at nine-years-old. He slips past all of them again and finds himself at the hangar.
In a different world, Peter would have been gifted his ship after years of improvement and hard work, after showing himself capable of being up to no good. In this world, Peter stole his ship -- and it was, in fact, the best thing he had ever stolen for himself ever. It's a small thing, orange and blue and silver, meant more for short jaunts than intergalactic travel, but he modded the hell out of his baby, made it spaceworthy and his. He grins for the first time in a long while when he spots his ship, relieved they hadn't dismantled it for parts, and after a careful glance around the hangar, he darts toward it.
Almost homefree. ]
no subject
Maya steps out from behind the vessel when she hears his footfalls sprinting across the floor, her hand comes up and FSHOOM, Peter will once again find himself suspended in her phaselock.
She doesn't fling him across the room this time, at least? ]
Going somewhere, Mister Quill?
no subject
As vulnerable as he is like this, as much power as the Siren has at her disposal, he still imbues his gaze and his voice with as much vitriol as he can. ]
Was it not obvious? I'm getting the fuck out of here.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)