Ill-Made Martyr [Open]

It was easy to be soothed by his new companions calmand qyuet demeanour. Not that it was enough for Peter to completely drop his guard, but even The hand she offered out didn’t make him flinch away like he would normally. Peter regarded it for a moment, then slowly reached out to put his hand in hers and let himself be led back into the house. She spent a moment looking around, and Peter took the opportunity to do the same. He had been in such a hurry to leave before he was discovered that he didn’t even notice there was no one to discover him in the house, hadn’t been for what looked like ages. If he’d known, he could have taken a breath longer to make some kind of plan, but hindsight was twenty twenty, and he had never been one for coming with plans anyway. Peter was more of a follower than anything else. ”Maea.” He repeated her name back, nodding while he did, so he could be sure he had it proper, and yet negelected to introduce himself, not thinking his name to be important. Maea spoke again, a question that had Peter looking around to try to find an answer. He still thought his was some kind of test, maybe this was where the test part actually came in. “I think... I think I’m... I’m in s-s-someplace I sh-sh-sho... in a place I’m not allowed.” Peter felt the fear begin to rise in his chest that the words. They weren’t right, weren’t acceptable, he was supposed to have answers when people asked things of him. Peter The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.