Ill-Made Martyr [Open]

The Gods created the world. It sounded... silly to Peter, but what else could he believe? Maea had been nothing but kind, and if he couldn’t trust her words now, then he would have to start right back at the beginning, when he’d first crashed out of the house he’d arrived in. All he had to do was swallow the fact, accept it, and other things fell into place around it. Though it didn’t help his understanding of the shrines much. Who would presume they could bother such powerful creatures? The talk of races, and their powers and history, seemed to unnerve Peter more than anything, his eyes on anything but Maea and his own hands while she explained them. Having a marker assigned to him that he had never asked for brought with it a queasiness, uncomfortable memories rising up and assaulting him with expecatations of pain and hiding. ”I’m not... I don’t want to... to get in trouble with...” He stopped, chewed his lip and tried to choose his words carefully, tactfully, to keep himself safe and still get the knowledge he needed. ”Are... any of the... the people, the races... are they bad?” Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.

MaeA The growing unease did not go by unnoticed. Poor of vision she might be, but Maea thought herself apt enough at reading people to pick up on such things. She paused and sat in silence for a while, in case he felt like sharing what it was that troubled him. Eventually, he did and did not; there was a discomfort underlying his words, she thought, but could not pinpoint what it stemmed from. "What is good?" she retorted, uncertain how to assuage his fears. "What is cruel, or evil? I don't know that such terms can really be applied to anyone so generally." Maea fingered a stray lock of hair that had escaped from the braid that hung down her back, the colorless eyes distant even as they rested on Peter's face. "You have to understand, none of us chose to be here. Not we who were born beneath the barrier, nor those who were brought here from... elsewhere. None of us know why we are here, or how to get out, whether we should, or if the point of it all is for those trapped within is to fade from existence. When we pray and ask the gods for help, one may give you one answer while another will say the opposite. Perhaps they might give us something that we need, or none will answer at all. Depending on who you listen to, the truth will be different and Good and Bad will shift accordingly." She was just musing aloud at this point, having no real answer to give him. "I suppose... In the end we will all have to choose what to believe and which path to take. In this there is no real difference between us. Are we not all humans, after all?" Though Maea supposed that the steps away from that humanity that the New gods led the Ascended through was the source of the whole conflict. Everything had been fine until some Ascended had decided that merely living and dying according to the laws of nature was no longer enough. No wonder the divine powers disapproved of her kin. Such staggering hubris.... did that exist within them all? Within herself as well? She wanted to think that it did not, but could not forget that brief impulse to make use of this man's plight for her own gain. you're so cold, but you feel alive.

Peter frowned, not understanding Maea’s point. God was maybe hard to define, but cruel and evil? They were easy. Cruel and evil had faces in Peters kind, memories of the people who had made him the way he was now. No, he might not be able to pick them out immediately. His eyes followed the finger that ran through her hair again, a soft, apologetic frown on his face as he listened to her musings. His question had been much simpler, he had just asked it poorly. It was interesting though, to hear her points, get a clearer picture of the one of person she was, even if Peter didn’t necessarily understand everything Maea talked about. After Maea grew quiet, Peter opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to figure out how to explain what he had meant without being insulting. ”Some, um... some people.. they do think they’re... more. Better.” It felt... bad to say out loud, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. And it led back to his original question as well. ”I didn’t... I didn’t get to pick, and I didn’t know. I don’t want to... get in trouble, or, or...” He knew he couldn’t be making much sense. Words had never been his strong suit but now he was truly lost, trying to keep track of new phrases as well as old. It would be easier to show her, then ask. Peter glanced around to make sure there was no one else to watch. Satisfied they were alone, then held his hand out in front of him. With barely a thought, a dagger appeared in his waiting hand, barely the length of his palm, and needle thin. He stared at his hand a beat longer, his brows furrowing, then offered the blade to Maea, handle first, unsure what else to do with it. ”I didn’t choose it.” He said again, like he was assuring himself as well as Maea. Peter didn’t want to get dirty looks, or be treated like he was inhuman again. He just wanted to know if he should try to hide parts of himself right away. Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.

MaeA Oh. She had misunderstood, and rambled on at length for no reason. Maea blushed and have a half-hearted shrug; sure, there were always people like that, who enjoyed placing themselves on a pedistal over everyone else. But... "I don't know that any race think of themselves that way" she said. "If they do, they're quiet about it, because in the end such an attitude would not get them anywhere. As long as we're all trapped in here together it matters very little if you're Accepted, Attuned, Ascended or Abandoned. If no one does anything, we all die." A simple, harsh truth, yet she said it with quiet acceptance, having known no other way of living. The quick gesture Peter did with his hand caught her eye, and Maea breathed in deeply as she saw the dagger resting on his palm. Staring at it, she recoiled almost imperceptibly, unsure what his intent was. The only knives she was familiar with belonged in the kitchen and the barn, meant to secure food and thus life... Somehow, she got the feeling that this blade was meant for something else entirely. How had he gotten it out so quickly? And from where? "What...?" But the question died halfway off her tongue, because the girl did not know what she even wanted to ask. you're so cold, but you feel alive.

Peter saw her face as he presented the blade, realized his mistake a breath too late. In a rush to correct he pulled his hand back, the dagger tucked into the back of his belt in a well practiced motion, his now empty hands held up so she could see there was no danger. His mouth moved more slowly than his hands, a bubble of half made sounds and stutters bubbling out from between his lips in his rush to explain. He stopped, closed his hands right, and tried to start over. ”I make things. Mostly, um... well I, I’m best at... at things like the knife, but I... it’ll usually disappear too, it didn’t, I don’t... I don’t know why. It’s bad, it’s very very bad to do, people don’t like it. Didn’t like it.” He rambled, unsure how to stop now that he had started. ”I’m not... I’m not bad, I don’t want... don’t want to be treated bad again.” Maea’s words had helped Peter relax and not worry, at least a bit, about how he would be treated and received, but now that he had started on the thought he seemed to spiral down with it. He shouldn’t have shown her, shouldn’t have said anything. This was how he got hurt, again and again. Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.

MaeA The knife had startled her, but as soon as she realized it had been to show her how rather than anything to do with the knife itself, the tension seeped from her along with a breath witheld. She opened her moth to say something, reassure him, but the man had slipped off into some darker place and his tongue stumbled over itself in a way that reminded her of Sam. But rather than a true stutter, this seemed to have more to do about fear, trauma, something inherently of the mind and it was painful to consider what kind of world the young man must have come from if it could make her think of Caido as the better place to be. Without thinking, wishing only to reassure him Maea reached out a hand for his arm, hoping it would anchor him back here, where it was calm and bright and peaceful. "I'm sorry about my reaction" she said, "I'm just not used to being around weapon. Not... that kind." Her hunting har been done by way of trapping, or throwing stones at small animals with her magic. A gift, it seemed, they shared. "If you can make things, it means you have magic" she tried to tell him. "It also means you are an Abandoned. Just like me." you're so cold, but you feel alive.

As soon as he was touched, Peter froze, his jumbled words falling immediately silent. He blinked, staring down at the hand on him as if he were confused about its gentleness. It was enough to break his cycling thoughts, remind him he was somewhere different, somewhere... better. Maea’s apology drew Peters gaze back up to her face, proper surprise on his face. If one didn’t know any better, they would assume that he had never been apologized to, not sincerely. ”I think I can... I can make different things.” He offered, trying to seem casual about it. Like he wasn’t just assuming he could. Biting his lip, Peter contemplated her words. He still didn’t like the idea of being given a title he had no control over, but it didn’t seem to be as bad here. It was peaceful, and quiet. Offering Maea another slow, hesitant smile, he took a deep breath. ”It’s not... wasn’t? Um, it wasn’t called m-magic, for me.” Even saying it made Pet feel strange, like a child repeating something stupid, but his words were steadier and softer now. ”I was told there there were other vari.. vari-ri... there were other kinds. Do you... do something different than... then making?” Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.

MaeA Eyes fixed on the man's face, she mirrored his careful smile and withdrew her hand once it seemed like Peter was in control of himself again. Letting her eyes fall to the ground by her feet Maea found a pebble that caught her eye, a colorful array of lines in green beneath a surface polished smooth over the years. Maybe it was a gem, maybe just a rock; she willed it to rise up through the air to hover before her anxious friend, to take or not as he pleased. "I've been told that once we were called Acquired rather than abandoned. 'Ones who have acquired power'. Sounds a bit better to me to be honest, though in the end it's only a word." She had used her abilities more often lately, and there was something comfortable about it that was hard to describe. A sweetness, a sense of well being... and sometimes, like now,  it was even a bit fun. Maea considered the stone, and wondered not för the first time exactly how it worked. The stone was over there and she was here not touching it, and yet there was a connection between her and it. Her thoughts? If she stopoed concentrating on wanting the stone to be there instead of on the ground it would fall, and while she could hold it up without looking it was that much harder to keep it going... It might be interesting to bring the matter to her friends in the guild, see what they could make of it. "Show me" she requested, her smile turning somewhat eager. "What else can you make?" you're so cold, but you feel alive.

For the first moment, Peter wasn't sure what he was meant to be looking at, only noticing Maea's concentration. The stone moving caught him by  surprise, his brows furrowing and his hand coming up as if to catch it. It took another beat before he seemed to realise, looking up at Maea with wonder in his face. His hand snatched the stone from the air and brought it up close to his face so he could glance down at it, then back up at her. Acquired had a much nicer ring to it than Abandoned did. It felt sharper in Peter's mind, bright and shiny and new. "I like Ac-Acquired... like it more." He offered, looking back down at the stone in his hand, concentrating on it as if he would be able to make it move with a little effort. It stayed stubbornly still, though Peter hadn't really expected anything different. "I-I don't really... I've never, um... never made..." Never made anything that wasn't purely utilitarian. Peter's empty hand came up to rub at his mouth while he thought, putting his rarely used imagination to the test. It shouldn't be that hard, right? Inspiration struck Peter suddenly, and he held out his hand to Maea, the stone she had moved now wrapped in a thin silvery wire, and hanging from a simple chain. Peter stared at the pendent in his hand, finding it strange to have made a thing instead of a tool. "If you... if it's not, uh, not good enough, I can... I can try again. Make something different." Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.

MaeA The brightness of her smile ought to be answer enough. Maea clapped in delight at the simple yet profound change in her stone, from a simple pebble on the ground to something pretty, a potential treasure in every sense of the word. "It's lovely!" she assured him, and leaned in close to admire the simple yet elegant design. "You're quite the artist, aren't you? I bet you could make a living off of that, if you wish." Scouring the ground for a few more pieces of gravel - plain and gray, with none of the polish the first one possessed - Maea raised them up and began to juggle them through the air, describing lazy circles and sudden swoops that looked effortless but required quite a lot of concentration. "There are different abilities... I can move things, you make items, and there are others who can heal and make fire and grow plants... what we acquire is quite random, but there is always a way to grow better at it. Just don't push yourself too far too fast if you practice... The kickback if you do can be rather nasty. Headaches, nosebleed, that sort of thing." Letting the stones drop back to the ground Maea smiled again at Peter, her pale eyes bright and full of a deep rooted joy. Using her gift always made her feel good. you're so cold, but you feel alive.

A flush spread across Peters cheeks at the sound of Maea’s laughter and clapping, settling in his ears and betraying his quietly delighted embarrassment. It still felt a little strange to have made something simple, and nice, but if it could spark such delight and joy from someone then maybe if was something he could keep doing. ”It’s just, it’s... it’s not um, really fancy, or... anything, b-but...” There was the curve of a smile on Peters lips, even if he couldn’t lift his eyes to meet Maea’s. ”You can have it.” His hand stretched out more, offering the little trinket, blue eyes flicking up to catch her reaction. The little show with the gravel held Peters attention easily, his enraptured gaze following the little grey stones. Maea’s gift seemed much more impressive than his. Perhaps that was only because it was in his hands, and he had never had much of a mind for creative things, so of course he had been gifted with creation. ”I know not to... not to push too much.” Peter assured her. The idea of it brought up nothing but bad memories, dimly remembered hazes from when he had first gotten his abilities. Shaking the memories from his mind, Peter glanced up, the smile he had had before quirking his lips up again, Maea’s joy strangely contagious. It felt easy, and allowed, and that just made him want to smile all the more. Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.

MaeA The offer of the pendant surprised her. She was not accustomed to receiving gifts, not used to people who would give something away for free. Things were too precious in the Hollow, too hard to make or come by for someone to just give it away. She opened her mouth to say that, to let him know just how precious a gift he was in possession of... but something about his downcast eyes and tentative offer caused her to change her mind. "I... thank you, Peter. That is so... kind of you!" Ger fingers brushed against his as she accepted the pendant from his outstretched hand, and for a while Maea simply held it, staring down at the green stone and the silver threads. Never before had she owned something so beautiful. It seemed wasted on someone like her, dressed in worn linen and roughspun wool with white hair merely tied back instead of made up into something more elaborate. Putting it on might only serve to highlight the state of her... Maea sighed softly and tucked it away into a pocket instead. Maybe she'd wear it for the festival. Perhaps this year she could make a bit of an effort. Nodding absently to Peter's reassurance that he would be careful, Maea grew quiet after that. For some time she merely sat and watched people go about their business, but as the sun eventually disappeared behind a dark cloud all the wsrmth seemed to vanish from the wind, and she shuddered. "Looks liked rain is coming in" she mumbled. "Might be time to head home soon..." Pale eyes flicked towards the man, a question unvoiced as she made to rise. If he was ready? If he still wanted to come along? The offer still stood. you're so cold, but you feel alive.

There was a long moment where Maea was quiet, Peter sucking in a thin breath so he could take it back, apologize for... something. Probably for offering in the first place. But before he had the chance to say anything, her fingers brushed his hand, making him flinch back the slightest amount, aware of how his scarred hands must feel.   ”You found it.”Peter pointed out, squirming a little under the praise, but still cautiously delighted by it. ”And it... it matches you.” what came out of his mouth wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to say, but it was close enough, and he was too embarrassed already to try again. Silence grew between them, the company alone more than enough for Peter to be comfortable. His gaze wandered aimlessly, moving over Maea as often as if didn’t. But always seeming to search for something in her, whatever it was slipping away as his eyes did. Peter looked up when rain was mentioned, his focus held almost completely by the dark clouds rolling in. He wasn’t so distracted that he missed the word home though, Peters eyes dropping back down to meet the light gaze on him. In one smooth motion, he was on his feet, his hands held awkwardly at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I’m ready.” He said softly. He was almost afraid the offer would be snatched away if he mentioned if too much, and stayed quiet because of it. Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.

MaeA He stood, and Maea smiled as she followed suit. It would be strange to have a man in the house, even more so as Peter was both an outlander and a complete stranger. Yet for all that his hands were scarred and seemed too familiar with the handle of a knife, the young woman never once considered the possibility that she might be placing herself in any danger. It wasn't in her nature to doubt others, nor had she ever experienced violence in that way... Perhaps it made her naive. Too trusting. But it was that naive trust that made her extend her hand towards Peter and head off towards the edge of the Settlement, happily chatting about the farm and the animals, how she hoped people would show up to help get the sheep back home... "I think you will like it. It's a ways off from here and rather quiet, but the area is lovely at this time of year. Hope you're not afraid of dogs..." For once, Maea actually looked forward to coming home. (End?) you're so cold, but you feel alive.