Congratu....Condolences? [Keara Aithne]

[Peter Parkman]

Peter let his gaze drift as Keara explained how she worked her power. He imagined doing it that way himself; it wasn’t quite the same as he had done it, but he realised he preferred his way better. Sometimes he could be a bit fanciful. And, given all that he had learned in the past however-long, the idea of shadows that were living, malleable entities was not so hard to grasp. To think that they could be constant, silent companions was simultaneously comforting and anxiety-inducing. But if he always imagined them as friendly, or not particularly smart, then it would all be fine.

He was hanging off Keara’s every word, and so he realised when her thoughts began to veer. He cleared his throat, thinking maybe if he said something he’d be able to bring her back to the present – the way she’d wandered off to hug the pole as if it were an anchor and she were out at sea in the middle of a raging storm. Even as he spoke, he approached her slowly, one small step at a time.

”Sure you taught me. Remember? I told you about Jersey – she figured out that something wasn’t right because I had no shadow. So you taught me how to project it,” he said. A frown furrowed over his brow and his lips were pressed into a tight line.

Keara liked the shadows. She liked the darkness. It was where she thought their kind belonged, and the words were like a cold fist closing around Peter’s heart. It was hard not to tell her—to say that he disagreed. That everyone should be allowed to live in the light. That he himself had loved the light. The favourite part of his day had been taking the dogs for a run through the paths in the wilderness; he’d get up just before dawn. They’d run to a clearing, a rise that lifted them above the surrounding trees. And he would watch the sunrise, and would hear the birds as they woke up to greet the new day.

And when he got home he’d make a coffee, pick up the paper, and settle on his front porch in the dazzling sunlight, soaking it up. That had been his favourite part of the day, and now that was gone. And the constant darkness was not a comfort to Peter. Instead, it smothered him. But he wouldn’t say any of this to Keara, as tempting as it might be. Instead, he reached out a tentative hand to lay upon her shoulder. He’d reached her side.

”Are you okay?”

[Keara Aithne]

Peter was better equipped than most to deal with Keara's moods, even if it was just through the fact that they were closely related, as the moment he placed his hand upon her, her instinct was to lash out at him. This was a side of Keara that Enver had helped to pacify, something he put up with for the longest time. Usually she'd of had better control over herself but in her current state, those old instincts came out to play. She grabbed a hold of Peter's wrists, and swiftly moved behind him, her body moving with graceful fluidity. Once behind him, she wrenched his arm up higher in an effort to immobilise him. All of this took just a few second and the moment she did it, she came to her senses, gasped and released her hold on him.

"Oh Peter. Sorry. Quite sorry I am. Mean for that to do I did not."

The urgent pleading in her usually steady tone, showed that she meant what she said and she moved to check his arm over, worried that she may have broken it in her dreamlike state.

"Tired I must be. Or too long from Enver I have been. Upon old habits fallen I have. Sorry then I was too for what did to Enver I did. Know I do not why continued he did for with me to talk. For with me to sit. How he ever any love for me did come to have, I shall never understand. Forgive me you must. Please? To hurt you my intent was not. Only. Before... unable I was for my impulses to control and all my instincts for my protection do scream. Noticed perhaps already you have that physical contact for me difficult is. With people. Not objects. And no issue have I for when I an enemy must engage. Confess I must that sometimes I myself do not understand. But Enver helped has."

The babbling had returned, only this time she was within her own mind, her thoughts were just coming too quickly for her to censor them or to be held back. She needed Peter to understand and forgive her. Whether she was explaining herself right, she was yet to know but the fact that she was trying should have been more than apparent to the man. She was supposed to be teaching him to hone his gifts and instead she'd more or less forced him into a situation where he may have felt he had wronged her, or worse, in which he felt he had to protect himself. She hated to raise her hands against her own kind. Enver was pretty much the exception to the rule and yet still they worked. They could fight, physically or verbally, and still come through the other side as much in love with one another as before the altercation had begun. Their passion for one another was just that and she knew that sometimes emotions were hard pressed to control. They loved too much. Enver at least had the excuse of being an allurist, but Keara was a shadow; she was supposed to be cold and calculating. A loner. While it was possible to imagine herself as such to a certain degree before he walked into her life, she could not reconcile that stereotype with herself any longer. He had awoken a side of her she never knew existed and so long as he was by her side, she would be eternally grateful for that fact.

[Peter Parkman]

One second, Peter is full of nothing but concern for his sire. The next, a peculiar kind of terror, tinged with surprise, seizes his body. Over the last few months he had got to know Keara, and had seen within her a tender soul. It had blinded him to the power that she did wield, to the dangerous weapon that she could be, should she wish it. As his eyes widened, as he gasped and the world blurred in front of him, he remembered.

The night of his siring. The way Keara and Enver had fought; the way Keara had not been confused, then, or unsure. She had been sharp as a tack, right up to the moment her teeth sunk through his skin and he began to bleed out. The way she had killed him. The way she had helped to kill him, alongside Enver. Time had caused Peter to forget, but now he remembered. Keara was a predator, and he was far weaker than she was. He could be her prey, if only just because he was lower down on the scale of ‘things that can kill’.

His arm twisted painfully, to the point that it could break, if it were to be pushed any further. His body instinctually tried to twist away from that fate – no doubt probably making it worse for him, but it didn’t matter. Almost as soon as he was grabbed, he was released, and he found himself lumbering away from his sire, long legs putting distance between them. A small distance, but a safe one. Or what Peter’s subconscious thought was safe.

The apology mildly soothed his shock. He rubbed at his arm, still sore, no doubt bruised. He gulped air and tried to listen. Enver. Enver Enver Enver. He shook his head. Yes, he had noticed that physical proximity could be a problem for Keara, but had she not hugged him earlier? Had she not hugged him before? Something to remember, perhaps – physical proximity was fine if only instigated by her, rather than the other way around.

The one thing that Peter was beginning to see, was that Enver and Keara could be dangerous. Despite all their best intentions, despite all the ways they help, they are like two chemicals reacting to each other. Bound to explode in one way or another, and Peter wondered if he was the only victim. Even when they were apart… he sighed and dropped his hands. He’d already had this discussion with them – they needed to sort themselves out. He canted his head to the side.

”Sure, Keara. It’s fine, I’m fine. We should go back. You can find Enver,” he said. Rationally, it would be better to try to find out about the rest of his abilities on his own; if it would put him in less danger, were he to something wrong. And if Keara would prefer to be with Enver, then she could be. Easy as that. Peter turned, and began to head back through the park toward the Asylum. Maybe it would take some time, until Keara was comfortable enough around Peter that her instincts wouldn’t think that she needed to protect herself from him. He wouldn’t judge her, if she felt safe around Enver, and if that was where she wanted to be; he wasn’t angry. Maybe just sad, that he couldn’t provide a similar kind of comfort. Not yet.

[Keara Aithne]

She didn't realise how she made him feel, else she'd of tried to explain herself further. The moments when she reverted back to her more feral state were few and far between but then she was still recovering from what had happened with Enos. Her mental state was still settling and her focus not quite as acute as it should have been. Hormonal is what Enver would have likely said but it wasn't that. Vampires heal quickly, Shadows more slowly perhaps, but still quicker than any human. Her problem was the mental strain the whole ordeal had put her through. Her mind was not what it used to be in some aspects and yet so much stronger in others.

"Yes. Best perhaps that is." She moved to catch up with Peter, looping her arm through his the moment she was close enough. "Rest I shall. Rest, so that I myself under control can keep. So sorry I am Peter. Another night continue we can for your powers to test. If wish that you do."

She continued to apologise as they made their way home. She felt guiltier about attacking him, than she ever had when she'd hurt Enver. Enver half deserved her wrath, even then. He couldn't seem to stop himself from constantly setting her off. That was her recollection of events, but they weren't entirely accurate. They had been friends and when they fell into their easy banter, it was difficult for him to remember that the smallest of physical gestures, no matter how well intended or playful, could set her off. Thankfully they were passed that now and with any luck, she'd be able to bury those instincts once more.