Holy Fae [K+E+J]

[Peter Parkman]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> Never before had a walk through the wilderness been so perilous. How long had Peter been a vampire? Every single night he made that trip at least once, and never before had he been so severely savaged. The first Fae came at him, gnashing teeth and deadly claw, fierce hate shining in its unearthly eyes. Within seconds Peter was on his knees, coughing and hacking, his throat cut through. Fingers prodded at the gash – it was almost as if the creature had meant to behead him. And then he must have passed out. When he woke up, it was to another creature, its mouth – far too large to be that of a regular human, irregularly shaped and horrifically proportioned, was half over his head, sharp teeth tearing into his skin. One eye was blinded, his ear gone, and a gaping hole in his cheek.

He had no idea how he made it home. Never had he been so severely injured—his head spun due to loss of blood and his wits were completely lost. He assumed that he was bleeding all over the place, and a small voice in the back of his mind told him not to make a mess. Somehow, he made it to the bathtub. Somehow, he had removed his jeans and one shoe; he’d removed his jacket, and the shirt underneath was still looped around his neck, but not around his arms. He couldn’t get it up over his head. Unbeknownst to Peter, he’d left the front door wide open, and the dogs ran in and out, just a little frantic.

There he lay, sprawled in the claw-foot tub, one leg draped over the edge and the hot water pouring down over him, washing away nothing. There was no blood, just an inky substance that disappeared like black smoke, making his wounds look garish and ugly. He gurgled the water, and reveled in the heat. So hot, that it distracted him from the searing pain in his neck and face; from the fact that he couldn’t see properly, and the clawing burn in his throat.


<Jersey> She had lingered behind at work for a short after running her daily searches for oil before returning home. Charlotte, regardless if the other woman had meant to or not, startled her with lyrics from Shinedown while she’d been restocking a few bottles of a honey scented perfume. Needless to say, she had dropped it and one shattered on Jersey. To make up for it, she purchased two and made another couple bottles – although, she knew Mora was easy going and forgiving. One bottle, she intended to give to Kallista and the other to Nakia.

Her mood had been glowing, even rude customers managing not to punch through the cheeriness that the step forward in her relationship brought and she knew it was silly, but oh well. The blonde never took the same path twice since her turning, not willing to risk the fae catching her scent and wait for her. Regularly, she had begun to shield herself and Peter after learning the ability, so she took advantage of being able to hurry faster home. Nothing, however, had prepared her for the surprise to find the front door open and the dogs outside. “Oh, ****.” Jersey thought someone had broken inside, had she locked the front door upon leaving that morning?

‘You didn’t even leave using the front door.’ A little voice reminded her in the back of her head and she doubted that Peter did either. But she had taken the dogs outside. Did she lock it then? Yes. Living with the OCD Peter had begun to have her check things twice around the house, so he wouldn’t be bothered by it. “Come on, Lady, KD.” Only the husky and collie remained outside for her once she was spotted, running inside only when she called. As she entered the house, however, it became clear to her that robbery wasn’t the problem – “Peter? Are you home?” She called, hearing the water running as she set the bag down carefully and then removed her heels. She went to the bathroom, seeing his bare legs before she shouted out an apology, having not seen the full scene.


<Peter Parkman> Peter was vaguely aware of movement in the cabin, and only vaguely aware that of course, he should have expected Jersey home at any minute. The pain in his face and neck caused a searing numbness, however, and near complete loss of blood had his body feeling light as a feather. Whenever he opened his good eye, the ceiling spun overhead. He'd taken to keeping his eyes closed, but opened them when he heard Jersey's shout of... apology? Was that what that was? The world immediately began to spin again, and the movement of his eyelid over his blinded eye caused yet another stab of pain. It felt as if a fracture of his skull near the eye and splintered off and was knifing into his brain. He immediately began to retch, much like a drunk person might after too much to drink, when their world won't stay still. Except when he retched, he choked on whatever vile liquid his stomach chose to churn up, as his head was still laying back. He made all kinds of awful noises as he tried to shift himself, tangled in his own t-shirt, his feet squealing against the porcelain of the tub.


<Jersey> She went into the bedroom to change into a pair of lounge pants, removing the denim jacket she wore and beginning to lift her shirt until she heard the retching. Again, one of the dogs barked and she turned her head to find KC darting into the bedroom, almost as if she were telling her to follow. “Baby, are you alright?” She called, her concern growing when she didn’t get a response for her apology. When she was at the door, she exhaled, “Cover yourself, I’m coming inside.” Jersey had assumed he was just sprawled out in the tub and as she stepped inside, she felt as if she’d been punched in the gut at the damage done. “Oh my god, Peter!” Her voice shot up in pitch. She didn’t care if he had clothes on or not, she immediately ran to the porcelain tub and reached to turn off the water, tilting his head up right so it would drain and not choke him.


<Peter Parkman> And then she was there beside the tub, and her cool fingers, attached to cool hands, were helping him to sit upright. He finally got some semblance of grip on the tub beneath him; he clutched at Jersey's arm, and at her shoulder, to help pull himself upright. And, once he'd got his balance he draped his long torso half over the edge of the tub. He was delirious. He felt like he was dreaming. She wasn't really there, and this was just the Fae playing some cruel trick on him. He was still out in the woods somewhere. He tried to speak, but no words came out - the slash across his throat and nicked his vocal cords. He just continued to clutch at Jersey's arm, resting the good side of his face against her shoulder; the other side was mauled beyond recognition.


<Jersey> When he was straightened up, she kept hold of him with one arm, her freehand moving to finish removing the shirt from around his neck, his arm and then tossed it behind him in the tub. At the same time, she wanted to scream and cry at the damage that she saw – thankfully, Peter was a shadow and there was not blood everywhere. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be helping him. She would be unconscious in the hallway. “Shh.” She swallowed back tears, watching his mouth move. “Let’s get you out of the tub and into something dry. I’ll...” Jersey didn’t know what to do other than help him become decent, contact his sire and hope that he wouldn’t die. She felt useless as she reached down, removing the remaining shoe.


<Peter Parkman> Somewhere in the depths of Peter's very being, he felt a blossoming of warmth, of relief and gratitude. He wanted to tell Jersey it would be okay, but of course he couldn't. And even if he could, he himself wasn't too sure what the outcome of this might be. He hadn't seen Charlotte since she'd been brought back from the wilderness. How had she fared? Somewhere, the thought triggered a wave of guilt. He, too, had been inundated with Charlotte's singing, but hadn't yet had the chance to go and see if she was alright. For now he could only be led, prodded along like a lame horse. Every time he moved his head, wisps of eerie blood seeped from the gash on his neck. He was aware of his remaining shoe being removed. Aware of wearing nothing now but his underwear. Uncaring, he tried his best to focus - to stand and clamber out of the tub.


<Jersey> On another day, she would have picked on the man in the situation – he needing her help to get out of the tub – but at that moment, her focus was solely on the nasty gasp on his throat and the way his face was broken. Jersey waited for Peter to begin trying to stand before she snatched the towel she’d used to dry off that morning and stood so he’d have something to steady him. “Just like that, don’t move too fast or you’ll likely feel like hell.” He probably already felt like hell. Nice job, Jersey. When he’d be up completely, she wrapped the towel around his hips and tucked it into the waistband of his boxers, her hands moving immediately to his waist after as she looked up at him.


<Peter Parkman> Merely standing was a feat of heroism. Not that he was too broken for his body to actually support him, but he was almost completely certain, in a fragmented kind of way, that his skull was actually broken and there was some kind of haemorrhage in his brain. Although his face contorted with the effort, no voice came with the shout that he inadvertently tried to produce. This, for a human, would have been critical. If he were human, he would be dead. No doubt about it. Instead, he soldiered on, his supernatural body trying, very slowly, to heal itself, and of course doing nothing to ease his misery. Finally, he ended up draping his arm over Jersey's shoulders, leaning far too much upon her for support.


<Jersey> Something told her had she been just a little bit weaker, she would have fallen over as she wrapped her arm around his waist as she held him close. “At least they didn’t take your leg.” She mumbled, having recognized the bite mark on his head after remembering what happened to Charlotte. “I think after this, we might have to look at real estate elsewhere.” She tried to make light of the situation as she always did. Jersey thought it was probably a defense mechanism so she wouldn’t freak out, or panic. Neither of which would be beneficial to either of them at the moment as she adjusted and began to move to the bedroom slowly.

[Jersey]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


<Peter Parkman> If he could have, Peter might have groaned. Instead what came out was a barely discernible wheeze. He loved his cabin, and he didn't think the dogs would like anywhere too close to the city. And anyway, he'd always be anxious that they'd get out and run down the road and get themselves run over by a car or a snow plough. For all Jersey knew, however, he could have only been wheezing in lamentation of his condition - and it was almost true. He might have been panicking himself if he weren't so clearly out of it; he couldn't think of anything beyond how weak he felt. Could hardly string together two words in his head let alone utter them out loud. Darkness crept in at the corner of his swimming vision - he could still only see out of one eye, and poorly at that. All he wanted to do was curl up in the foetal position and pretend like it had never happened. And yet he followed Jersey, one step after another, out of the bathroom. He needed her to guide him, otherwise he'd probably trip on one of the dogs or on the corner of some piece of furniture.


<Jersey> The blonde turned her head and pressed a small kiss to his shoulder when she heard the small sound, tightening her hold on him before she softly shooed away the dogs as they made their way. "He's okay, guys, it'll be okay." She had seen Charlotte getting better, although the barrage of music had scared the hell out of her. "I'll send Keara a telepathic message once you at least have pants on." She explained softly, "And then I'll probably see what I can do to bandage your throat up." She was very aware of how close it was to her head, the ugly wound and it made her ill thinking about what he was feeling at the moment.


<Peter Parkman> It was something Peter loved about Jersey, her constant chattering. And he loved her no less for it now. Although sometimes he couldn't quite comprehend the meaning of her words, they were still a warm cadence to which his consciousness clung. All he wanted to do was sink down into the softness of their bed, and now he realised he didn't want to curl up into the foetal position along, but wanted to have Jersey beside him, that sweet cadence of her voice and those incoherent words a soothing lullaby. He could imagine the dogs curled up around them, like mini heaters. He ached so much for the imagined scene that he start flailing and arching for the bed as soon as he saw it - little did he know that they hadn't yet crossed the living room, and the thing for which he was reaching was only an imagined bed, and he was instead arching into empty space.


<Jersey> Yes, the height difference which she loved otherwise was a *****. Especially as he began to arch and Jersey felt the weight tip forward. She moved quickly to catch him, her concern pitching like her voice had as her hand lifted to cup the good side of his face. “Are you getting dizzy? We can stop for a few seconds.” She had no idea he’d begun to arch thinking they were in proximity of their bed. “We’re in the living room.” She explained softly, her gaze full of concern as she took in the fact he couldn’t see out of one eye and felt her gut lurch. She looked at the other eye and wondered how well he was seeing anything.


<Peter Parkman> No softness greeted him except that of Jersey's voice, and of her arms steadying him. For quite a few long seconds he couldn't quite understand what was happening - the words she spoke swam around inside of his head until finally they found each other, tripping over each other to form the sentence yet again, repeated several times before he understood. In the living room. Of course. The trek to the bedroom seemed like a trek through an arid and unforgiving desert. The arm that he had flung over Jersey's shoulders tensed, his opposite hand groping for her shirt. He took another step forward, hoping that single urge would let her know that all he wanted was the bed. Bed.


<Jersey> Her hands slid along his side gently, waiting for him to move again before she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his jaw to say she understood as he took the step forward. She moved back underneath his arm, getting out of his way and wrapped her arm back around his waist securely. "Alright. If you need to stop, squeeze my shoulder." Yes, Jersey talked to keep herself from panicking. That much she was sure now.


<Peter Parkman> He didn't squeeze her shoulder. Didn't make any attempt to stop - he just wanted to keep going until they reached the bed. All this moving was draining his energy and he couldn't do it. In his current state of mind he couldn't give a fig about pants. He was completely unaware of his state of dress, or how cold it might have been in the cabin. The fire wasn't roaring just yet. He didn't reach for the bed even when he was almost one hundred percent certain that they'd reached it. He didn't crumple down into it until Jersey indicated that they had reached their destination.


<Jersey> The second they reached the bed, Jersey adjusted to help him lay down, her hand remaining on his hip once he was laid out before she made a face, “To hell with pants, you’ve got a towel on and it’s your side of the bed that’ll be damp anyway.” She mumbled and then got up as if to collect her phone. “You’re a telepath, Jersey.” She stopped and tried not to groan before reaching out to Keara’s mind and attempting to sound less frantic than she probably did. “Peter got attacked by the fae, his head is smashed in and his throat is slashed. I found him in the bathtub, please help.” And then because she knew he was close to Peter and perhaps could do something, she did the same quickly with the same message.


<Peter Parkman> Oooh, glorious bed! As soon as her felt the softness of the mattress beneath him, Peter crab crawled up into the middle of the bed and curled up. He didn't care about the towel or his wet hair. He couldn't even summon the energy to find a pillow or pull up a blanket. The bed rocked as one of more of the dogs jumped up onto the bed, and Peter's hand reached out for the only other thing that he needed in this imaginary scene. Jersey. Where was she? What was she doing? His fingers splayed against the duvet as he breathed heavily into the cotton; his breath came in gurgles and rasps. He hadn't yet remembered that he didn't have to breath, and that it would be less painful for him if he stopped.


<Jersey> Once the messages were sent, she disappeared into the living room to pick up the clothes that he had discarded before moving to put them into the hamper to give her something to do other than stand around and attempt not to pull her hair out. She fed the dogs, whistling for the two that had jumped onto the bed so they would be distracted for the time being. She understood, though, why they were anxious and returned to Peter immediately after. Her hand went to his thigh, giving it a soft squeeze as she debated on at least trying to get him in pajama bottoms. "Baby, stop breathing," She whispered, moving to run her hand along his side, "just relax. I contacted Keara and Enver."


<Peter Parkman> A tremulous anxiety thrummed the length of Peter's body when Jersey didn't take his hand. When the bed didn't bend under her weight, because she didn't join him like he wanted her to. At some point even the dogs up and fled and Peter was left alone on the bed. The throbbing in his head was like the constant pounding of a bass drum, the vibrations tiny needles that dug into his eye, and into his brain just behind it. He lay on his side with the good half of his face pressed up against the quilt. He drifted in and out of consciousness, only rearing back into brief lucidity as Jersey squeezed his thigh, as that warm cadence of her voice was once again like honey in his ears. He did as he was told. He stopped breathing. And he reached for Jersey's hand, clutched at it and pulled it to his chest, hugging it like it were his last and only lifeline.


<Jersey> She decided against it until the other two were done and then moved to lay down with Peter after he clutched her hand, not having the heart to tell him she needed to be up right to go get the door when the other two, or one, whoever, arrived. He was hurting and she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips before relaxing in the bed, her freehand moving to stroke along his side once more. “It’s alright.” She whispered, remembering how loud noises would bother her after the accident. Jersey’s green eyes studied his face, silently hoping that it was a bad dream and she’d wake up, and he’d calm her down.


<Peter Parkman> Peter tried to sigh in relief, then remembered that he shouldn't breathe. The sigh lodged in his throat before his shoulders slumped. He curled up into an even tighter ball, finally content. Only, the moment didn't last long. Drowsily, Peter wasn't aware of what was happening until it was over. To begin with, he thought he was just drifting off into pain-induced sleep. The pain, for a moment or two, completely disappeared - but when it came back, it came back with a vengeance. And when he went to go clutch at the comfort of Jersey's presence, he vaguely realised that she was not there. A shudder ran through his body as he tried to open his eyes, as he tried to see - and could only see a very blurry image of someone. And he wasn't in his own bed. And he had no idea what was going on.


<Jersey> Jersey squeezed him softly once more, her hand continuing to stroke his side while she stretched out. Oddly enough, the blonde relaxed and closed her eyes, just keeping close to him and every now and then humming a mindless tune. The second her hand fell against the bed, however, she shot up and her eyes opened. "Peter?" She grasped the sheet, looking around the room as her nerves shot up. Where... "Peter?" She called out again before biting her lip, beginning to search through his memories only to relax partially. He was summoned. "A little warning would have been loved." She mumbled to nothing in particular before hopping out of bed and grabbing a bag to stuff some of Peter's clothes into. A moment later, the blonde heard Keara's voice and she went to grab her keys, heading to the Asylum.

[Keara Aithne]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> Peter tried to sigh in relief, then remembered that he shouldn't breathe. The sigh lodged in his throat before his shoulders slumped. He curled up into an even tighter ball, finally content. Only, the moment didn't last long. Drowsily, Peter wasn't aware of what was happening until it was over. To begin with, he thought he was just drifting off into pain-induced sleep. The pain, for a moment or two, completely disappeared - but when it came back, it came back with a vengeance. And when he went to go clutch at the comfort of Jersey's presence, he vaguely realised that she was not there. A shudder ran through his body as he tried to open his eyes, as he tried to see - and could only see a very blurry image of someone. And he wasn't in his own bed. And he had no idea what was going on.


<Keara Aithne> “Oh Peter, what done to you has been?” Keara cooed over him in a soothing tone, not really expecting an answer from her half naked childe as she wrapped her arms around him. Enver, as expected had followed closely behind her and so she looked to him. “Quite bad he is…though not as bad as Charlotte was…perhaps…” she added as she appraised him to see just how much damage had been done to his senses. “Can you the bed for me ready make?” she asked her husband, as she scooped Peter up so that she now cradled him in her arms, for as small as Keara was by comparison to the men in the room, she was arguably the strongest of them.

<Enver Marshall> He had heard the thoughts of another in his head a little while ago before his wife took off and asked him to follow. Enver had followed, rather reluctantly, only because he was told Peter was in a bath tub and that wasn't a sight he really wanted to see. He didn't venture down to this floor much, or ever, really so he stuck close behind her until she made her way in, Peter appeared and he took a step back. "Holy hell." He muttered, forgetting how much of a dick the fae could be since he rarely went in the woods and when he did Enver was always in his lion form. He pinched the bridge of his nose, nodded his head and did what was asked of him. "You told him about the creatures in the woods, yeah?" He wasn't really doubting she had done that, but it didn't make any sense as to why or how Peter got caught up in this mess.


<Peter Parkman> There was the sensation of another voice, though it wasn't Jersey's voice. Peter narrowed his one good eye. Dark hair. That turn of phrase. And then another, deeper voice. Keara and Enver, had to be. Although Jersey had told Peter she'd contacted them. Peter hadn't really heard. He was still drifting in and out of lucidity. When Keara lifted him he was all sprawling limbs, and when his head fell back the deep gash on his neck gaped open, more wispy blood seeping out of it. The gash had nicked his vocal cords. And sound of discontent that he might have made was lost, incoherent, a mere rasp and a strangled gurgle. Although he hadn't suffered much physical damage in the grand scheme of things, his brain was damaged and he very clearly wasn't all there.


<Keara Aithne> “Believe I did. He knows that Charlotte attacked was in the wilderness. Know I do not why he this would do,” even as she considered what needed to be done, she couldn’t help but feel as if this might be partially her fault. She followed Enver to the bed and readied Peter’s body to be placed into it. He was cumbersome to hold more so due to his length than anything else and so she did her best not to aggravate his wounds further by paying more attention to the positioning of his head than his feet. “Think you that my blood poisoned is?” she asked Enver, the notion almost ludicrous to voice aloud and yet she couldn’t help but ask. “Something with my blood wrong must be for two of mine to the wilderness to be lured in so short a time. Yes?”


<Enver Marshall> He scoffed and shook his head. "Just think they're set in their ways is all. Can lead a camel to water and all that, but can't make it drink the stuff." He shrugged, sighed and pulled the covers back. "Could just be bad timing. Things seem to happen all at once when it goes downhill. Or we just remember those things more maybe." He nudged his head to the bed. "Why don't you put him down?" He stepped away from the bed to give her some room to maneuver around. "Would be better if Jersey was here. Might know something we don't about what happened. Don't think he'd go prancing around the woods for no reason."


<Peter Parkman> The conversation between Keara and Enver was nothing like the one-sided conversation Jersey had been having with him. There was no honey here. The cadences of their voices weren't as soothing and the added noise and movement sent sharp stabs of agony into Peter's skull. A few words lodged themselves into his consciousness; maybe he would remember them later, and maybe he wouldn't. A thrum of anxiety pulsed somewhere inside before it subsided; there was another bed. Oh, bed. Peter clawed at the softness and curled up into it, resuming his former foetal position.


<Keara Aithne> She nodded but she didn’t truly believe him, as she lay Peter down and watched him crawl into it. She was beginning to suspect that her blood had altered since she married Enver and that something in it was causing her offspring to become suicidal. It wasn’t likely the marriage that was causing this, so much as the marital duties they performed daily and often. “Told her I have that I him home have summoned and where she us can find. Doubt I do that trusts me enough she does for me her here to bring yet. Though perhaps in time…Blood he requires My Love. Seems to me does that half of it spilled has been. Boost and heal it we should, so far as we can.” She covered Peter over, though he likely didn’t need the warmth and then lay her hand on his shoulder before using a little of her craft to help him.


<Enver Marshall> "Oh good." Enver nodded and looked at the door, half expecting Jersey to show up, not knowing where they'd been before Keara summoned Peter here. It just seemed the two of them were practically conjoined at the hip, not that Enver could give much of an opinion on that, truth be told. "Don't make a lick of sense. This whole thing." Enver muttered before he looked the kid over. "You think he'll be alright after that?" Enver stared at Peter's head, not really believing he would be. "Don't look too good." He frowned, moved around Keara and then focused on Peter as a hand snaked around the kid's arm and he muttered a few words about healing, blood, stupid fae, something about that dick the Crow guy and waited to see if something happened.

[Enver Marshall II]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jersey> Jersey had felt anger without the warning, but it wasn’t until Keara told her that she had brought him to the Asylum that it subsided and she left the cabin through the fadeportal, hurrying her way through the city as quickly as she could make it. It hadn’t crossed her mind that she should have thanked Keara and told her that she’d be there as soon as possible until she stepped onto the Cherrydale transit, or at least told Peter. “At least I didn’t think to tome, otherwise it’d take longer.” She mumbled, thinking about how he had clutched her and idly, her hand curled around the bag she had thrown together with a few pieces of clothes for him. She repeated the location quietly that had been spoken into her mind, her nails anxiously being tapped against her thigh as she waited for the Honeymead stop.


<Peter Parkman> It was almost like deja vu, the way the two of them were standing around him. Except this time they were both giving blood, rather than one trying to take it away. Inch by inch the numb ache that had taken up residence in all Peter's limbs, that clawing burn in the back of his throat, started to subside. The blood that he had lost was being replaced. Although his skin remained whiter than usual, it still regained a healthier pallor than previously. The healing process could now begin in earnest, with blood lazily pushing through his veins, its magical properties helping to stitch together broken skin and bone. Peter visibly relaxed, a gurgled sigh of half satisfaction rasping past his lips. Though he remained silent and slightly unaware. At least he knew that he was safe, even if he did have the distinct feeling that something was missing.


<Keara Aithne> Ignoring his mumblings, she focused on Peter to help restore a little more of his blood. He could likely be fed from a blood bag too once he was more stable, but for now she was just concerned with easing his pain; as she assumed that bringing his blood levels back up might help to ease it a little. “There nothing else is that do we can…is there?” she asked her eyes filled with concern a she looked up at Enver while idly brushing at Peter’s hair with her fingertips. “Useless in this I feel. Sure I am that he the skill requires not for any of his injuries to heal…though…perhaps if inspire him we could? For his abilities to boost perhaps? I spirits for you to feed upon could summon My Love, if do that you do.”


<Enver Marshall> Enver looked at Peter and then back at Keara. "Not sure an inspire is going to solve this problem. Look at his head." Enver extended a hand out to Peter's head. "Wish I could solve this, beautiful, but an inspire isn't going to make his head better. Or make him talk any." Enver hadn't heard Peter talk yet, so he assumed he couldn't but no one had actually asked him anything, had they? So he gave Peter a shake on the arm. "You, ahh...doing alright there?"


<Jersey> She reached the Asylum and went inside quietly before she spoke out into Keara’s mind, “I’ll be upstairs in a few minutes. Thank you for helping him.” Jersey did it then although she knew she’d do it again after seeing Peter. She wrapped her arms softly around her midsection while going to the elevator and up to the second floor. The blonde chewed on her bottom lip, stepping out once it stopped and looked around the floor in wonder before counting the door numbers out loud until finding number one. Hesitantly, she knocked first and peeked her head in. She recognized Enver and had seen the woman before, taking an immediate guess that it was Keara as she took note of Peter. “How is he?” The relief on her features was evident as she stepped inside.


<Peter Parkman> More of that cadence, of the ups and downs. Now Peter felt limber enough in body, though his head still felt as if it had an axe protruding out of it. He winced as the louder, male voice spoke right into his ear; the words at least were well enunciated and Peter squinted through the blurry haze to try to at least respond with facial expression. All he could do was grope the air until he found Enver's stubbled cheek, to slap it lightly twice (in reassurance or to shut him up? Maybe both). When Peter heard Jersey's voice his body turned toward the source; he let go of Enver in order to stretch out his fingers for Jersey.


<Keara Aithne> “Powerless feel I do,” she whispered, her eyes running over Peter’s features, taking in his wounds again. “Charlotte definitely worse was…and healed now she has. Peter heal too shall.” A part of her wanted to crawl into the bed with him but that was perhaps inappropriate behaviour, and so as Jersey arrived, Keara climbed off the bed and went around to stand next to her husband, taking his hand in her own as she clung to his arm for comfort. “Heal his wounds we cannot. Only time that for him can do, as no power has he for his own pain to an end to bring,” her reply was softly spoken and showed how concerned she was. A soft smile graced her lips though as she saw Peter physically respond to Enver, even if he didn’t give any sort of vocal reply, and then reach out to Jersey. “Sorry I am for him away from you to take. Only quicker was for us for him here to bring…Restored we have a little of what lost has been. Now…now heal he must.”


<Enver Marshall> Enver heard someone else come in and then ask a question. He had heard the voice once or twice before and so he didn't really turn to acknowledge her, as keara didn't turn to indicate the person shouldn't be there. "Well, ahhh. His head is a bit damaged." Enver started to turn to look at the female when Peter went ahead and slapped at his face in some sort of response. "But he seems fine." Enver scowled down at Peter before a hand went to his jawline to rub at it, muttering something about being a cheeky ****. "You know. Might be a good idea to put pillows around him. So he doesn't roll or sleep walk or something." Enver grinned wide at that idea before he nodded. "Could tie him down too. Thank god he's not a tele-." He stopped when he remembered Jersey was in the room. "Like Charlotte." He cleared his throat as he looked around.


<Jersey> She smiled softly while she watched Peter reach out for her and moved quietly over to Keara and Enver, her hand moving to give the woman’s shoulder a soft squeeze in thanks as she listened. “I understand... I wasn’t expecting him to vanish from my arms and it kind of scared me, but I don’t think he would have made it out of the cabin without drawing attention. It was better that way.” After that, she moved to sit down beside Peter on the bed, both of her hands moving to enclose his tightly. She lifted it and pressed her lips to the knuckles, her green eyes moving to Enver as the man spoke. Her eyebrow rose at the mention of Charlotte, but she gave a small shake of her head as the thought of Peter sleepwalking was mentioned, “He won’t fall off the bed when sleeping. I fell on him once after tripping on one of the dogs when he was sleeping and he didn’t even move a muscle.”

[Jersey]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> Somewhat aware that he was now surrounded by people, and vaguely concerned that they were all fussing a bit too much but not really sure either way, Peter was content to roll toward Jersey as if trying to curl in on her. He was telling himself not to worry. There was a large part of his brain wanting only to be able to communicate with those gathered, but the part that a splinter of his skull stuck into it dictated otherwise. He could hardly think to speak, and didn't try given the slash across his throat. He was content, for the moemnt, to revel in the music of their voices flowing back and forth around him, his fingers curling perhaps a little too tightly around Jersey's.


<Keara Aithne> She tried not to flinch as Jersey touched her. Thanks mainly to Enver’s perseverance she wasn’t likely to punch her in the face, and being family meant Keara was automatically more at ease but still, she didn’t know the female well and had only really caught sight of her once. Had she of not been blood related, Keara would have perhaps struggled to have kept herself so composed. Pressing in closer to Enver, she watched the tender way in which Jersey and Peter interacted and smiled as she looked up at her own love. “Oh!” she exclaimed a little too loudly, as the idea caught her too by surprise. “Try I can for his mind to reach…Perhaps reply then he can?” She didn’t move from Enver’s side, she just closed her eyes and thought to Peter, allowing the connection to flow both ways so that he could reply if he was mentally capable of doing so. ‘Are you in much pain darkling?’ she asked him.


<Enver Marshall> "Sure. You could try that. Best be careful though." Enver stepped back and brought Keara with him if she allowed it. "Might surprise him a little and kid might knee you or something." Enver turned his attention to Jersey. "Any idea why he was prancing around in the woods?"


<Jersey> She looked down at the man quietly with a fond expression, squeezing his hand in response while she held his hand, "I really can't thank you enough, either of you... finding him like that..." Her lip trembled and she bit it idly before looking back to them with a soft smile, "Just thank you." It was really all that she could say at the moment, at least until Enver spoke. She inclined her head slightly, "We live over in Marsh Hill, have to get through the woods to get to the cabin. My guess is something snuck up on him." She looked down at Peter, wincing at his injuries slightly, "He doesn't linger, though. I keep wishing they'll cut a path or something to make it safer."


<Peter Parkman> The sound of Keara's voice in his head was so sharp and concise in comparison to the rumblings of conversation around him, that if caused Peter to instinctively flinch, his whole body rigid for a second before he relaxed. He recognised this same connection he'd had with Keara before - almost like she could read his thoughts, if he weren't careful. Right now, he couldn't focus too much on being coherent, though he did try to respond. Pain lots fine Jersey's here don't talk so loudly fine I just really like bedmmmbed... and even as he thought about the bed, he stretched a leg, happy to be lying down.


<Keara Aithne> From her appraisal of him, she already knew that his mind was weak but it wasn’t so weak as to be non-existent…as Enver’s had been that time he’d been crippled. Peter’s reply, while also consisting more of a string of singular words, at least held some context, unless Enver’s when he’d been babbling about bananas or some such nonsense. Smiling she opened her eyes and looked from Enver to Jersey. “Happy is for you here to have. Think I do that that comforting to him is, like for me it would be for Enver by me to have. And says he does that he fine will be. At least think I do that that his intention is. Pain he is in…yes…but rest perhaps help him shall. Likes he does the bed,” she looked to her husband, her eyes sparkling slightly. “Is there anything that either of you wish to know from him? That important is…” she added, more for Enver’s benefit, as while she too wanted to know what had happened, it was a question that could wait for when he had healed.


<Enver Marshall> Marsh Hill. Enver knew of the place...vaguely. He nodded his head, not sure if he believed that story. After all, Keara had told him of the fae, or so she was sure and Peter wasn't stupid or slow to linger around waiting for something bad to happen. No. This had been constructed by something. Or someone. He knew it. And he knew exactly who was behind the assault on Peter. The damn Crow guy, fae thing. "Nah. Everything else can wait. Marsh Hill you say?" Enver looked back at Jersey, waiting for her confirmation on that piece of information.


<Jersey> When Peter flinched, one of Jersey's hands moved to his side to rub it reassuringly that everything would be alright and she tangled their fingers together gently with the other. She gave a warm smile, chuckling, "It's good he likes the bed because he's going to be spending a lot of time in it." She squeezed his side softly once more, looking up at the other two before she gave a soft shake of her head to Keara's question, "No, thank you. I'm fine." And then to Enver, she gave her head a nod, "Yes sir. He's lived in it as long as I've known him. It's the cabin area out past Elmsworth."


<Peter Parkman> Unaware that any connection had been lost, Peter's thoughts were still rambling on inside of his head, painful as it was. How long had it been? Maybe he was used to it by now, that throbbing agony. So long as the rest of his body as comfortable, he was able to endure. And besides which, he'd forgotten about Keara's ability, or that she might still be in his head, or that she might poke in again. He'd told himself to think happy thoughts. And thus, should Keara make the connection again she'd hear a steady stream of things that made Peter happy: JerseyDogsfirelongwalksatsunriselongwalks...nonolongwalksanymoremonstersteeth...
Jersey!Jersey!Dogs!Fire...Jerseybedfireplatojerseynakedohwarmjerseyandthosesoundsshemakes... Ad infinitum.

[Peter Parkman]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Keara Aithne> Neither of them had anything they wished to ask or say to him, but she had yet to ask Peter if he had anything he wished to share and so she opened her mind to him once more. He was already babbling something about his dogs and a fire and so she knew to repeat that, though the part about her being naked…that she was going to keep to herself. While Keara didn’t like to keep secrets, these words, or rather thoughts, were not her own, so she wasn’t going to pass them on unless he specifically told her too. ‘Safe now you are.’ Her voice was softer this time, as she tried to think in a whisper. ‘Jersey by your side likely shall stay. Though promise I cannot that she naked will be. Enver and I check up on you shall. Need you do for to rest and heal. Ask I shall for the dogs here to be brought. Worry not.’ She made sure that he could reply if he chose too, but wasn’t sure she’d get any more sense out of him now. “Thinking he is of his dogs. And…a fire?” The hesitation in her voice owing to the fact that she wasn’t sure what that was about. “Perhaps collected the dogs could be…by Crash?” she looked over at Enver when she said this. “And here brought. Prefer I would if he in the Asylum stayed while injured he is. Then watch over him we all can.”


<Enver Marshall> Sir? Enver scoffed at that and then waved a hand in the air and brought it back down in a quick motion. Sir would be something he would have said to his dad, if his dad was srtill alive that was. Enver nodded his head at the information Jersey shared, then looked over at Keara as she mentioned Crash getting the dogs. "Dogs?" One dog he could probably manage, two even. But anything more than that, and Enver doubted Crash's ability to do anything with the dogs. "I mean. I could see." Enver looked around, then back at his wife. "But yeah. We'll come check up on him. And if you or him need anything, just do that mental page stuff. I'm pretty much close to here all the time."


<Jersey> "We spend a lot of our time in front of the fireplace at the cabin," She explained lightly to Keara, unaware that her wording could probably make what Peter'd been thinking about either better or worse, "He has five. If... Crash needs any help, I can go get them. They're all very well mannered, though, he shouldn't have any issue. I can get them, though, and an overnight bag for us." She doubted she'd want to leave his side for long. "I'll be sure to do so, although, I don't think I'll be able to know what he wants specifically."


<Peter Parkman> Peter's thoughts were like a crowd of crickets - very loud until Keara interrupted, and falling to a hush as he realised she was still there. The hush was silenced completely as she negated Jersey's ability to be naked while at his side. By now, Peter was paying no attention to the conversation occurring between the three people at his bedside. Keara had told him the dogs could come and he imagined again the idea of them curled up around him, five mini heaters. And Jersey, too. Of course his thoughts had hushed because deep down he knew he shouldn't be thinking about Jersey naked but for all intents and purposes, Peter could have been drugged up on some kind of weird morphine. He couldn't shut his thoughts up.WhywhynonakedJersey?Feltnakedcan'treallyseesodoesn'tmatterjustwanttofeeltouchbutmaybenotwithdogsnonotvisitorsmaybenotbutJerseythere.... at which point he heard Jersey's voice again, felt it rumbling through him, right beside him, and he curled in just a little bit closer to her.

<Keara Aithne> She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his reply. If she hadn’t gotten better at shielding her surface thoughts Peter would have been more than aware that Enver was getting the blame for this too. It seemed no matter what happened, if it wasn’t her fault it was his…and even if it was her fault, it was usually because of him and Enver was therefore ultimately responsible for everything…,maybe. Her thoughts at times like this certainly seemed to suggest this, as she remarked to herself how much like his father he was. “Crash manage can. Even if fetch them he does one at a time,” while she wasn’t sure Crash could look after even one animal, she was sure he could manage to transport them from one place to another without losing any of them. ‘Hush now you.’ Her thoughts went once more back to Peter. ‘Asking her that I am not. And you in no such state are for a naked woman at your side to have. Though likely if that how you usually sleep together is when daylight comes, that that’s how sleep you shall.’ Keara nodded and leant down to kiss Peter on the forehead. “Sure I am that all that needs he does is you Jersey. You and time in which heal he can. If need anything you do. Ask it of us you may. And…” she circled back around to something that had been said earlier. “Thank me you need not for care of my son to take. Do this I would for any of my blood. Yourself included. Though that trust from you two would take, for summoned to be.”


<Enver Marshall> "Yeah. Sure. Well, I'll leave you all alone." Enver saluted Jersey and Peter, even if it went over his head given his state. "Shout if you need anything." Enver looked at Keara, then tugged her with him. "We'll see you two later." Apparently because Enver was leaving, so was his wife.


<Jersey> Her eyebrow lifted softly as she took note of Keara rolling her eyes and she glanced down at Peter and then back at the woman with a curious expression. "What is he thinking?" She asked, almost amused as she thought about what had happened in the past few days. And she gave a nod of her head gently as she listened to the woman explain about not thanking her. The blonde still felt it was the right thing to do, "If Peter and Kallista trust you, I have absolutely no reason not to, Keara." She offered the woman a warm smile, waving to Enver as the man moved to leave.


<Peter Parkman> Peter wasn't sure why his thoughts were being hushed. He could no more hush his own thoughts that he could quell his thirst every evening as soon as the sun set. He could no more hush his thoughts than the waves would break against a shore. He might have explained to her in his normal terse tone that they did not sleep naked together, thankyouverymuch, as that would go against what Peter had vowed never to do. His thoughts had descended into the mire, however, and the most that Keara would hear is incoherent mumblings and whispers as he tried his hardest to 'hush' his thoughts. Tried to imagine images instead, rather than speaking to himself like a dumbwit.


<Jersey> She glanced between the two and silently wondered what was going on in his head before she nodded, "I will, have a nice evening you two, and I'll see you again soon likely," and squeezed his side once more as she fell silent, not knowing what else to say before she carefully nudged the man aside once the door clicked shut before moving to lay down beside him. Her arm went across his chest almost possessively before she set her head on his shoulder, holding him close to her form. "You scared the hell out of me tonight, Mr. Parkman." She muttered before relaxing, thankful for the family that they'd been sired into.