Path of the Vampire forum

<Jersey> She had been thinking about it most of the evening as she went through her routine, leaving work and getting her nails done. The idea of a traditional wedding bothered her, truthfully. There was nothing traditional about their relationship, about them. It had been something she knew from the start of planning, looking through wedding magazines and brochures. Planning was not something she enjoyed doing.

So, after collecting the right ingredients that he had mentioned into her bag, Jersey returned to the Asylum and headed up to the room. “Peter,” She called out to him as she opened the door and bit her bottom lip. It would be a big push, she knew he didn’t like to sway from his schedule but she came first to it, he’d told her as much hadn’t he? It was time to test it. She came dressed from work, the black dress something she was comfortable and felt pretty in with her red heels, her red lips.

Only pausing to take off her shoes so she wouldn't hurt the dogs, Jersey looked around - it wasn’t the cabin, but she felt safe there. Her bag was left behind for now. “Did you pick up the clover?” She questioned, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.


<Peter Parkman> The room was almost a mirror image of his office at the cabin; there was a fire in the corner, and the shelves were all a warm mahogany, the desk an antique, as well as the chair that Peter sat in. It was one of those old, green leather affairs. The colours kept him happy, made him feel comfortable and at home.

Although he and Jersey had moved back to the Cabin, ever since the attack on Jersey by her own family, Peter had stayed at the Asylum more often than not. It wasn’t only Sean who he saw often now, hanging around in the attic, but Jacey, too. At least if Peter made an appearance, he could say he wasn’t being as reclusive as he used to be. Really, he was afraid that Jersey’s family were only biding their time; he was paranoid, and wouldn’t allow himself to think that the danger had passed.

The two of them had talked about dates for the wedding, but they hadn’t settled on anything yet. Peter was concerned about the invitations; he knew Jersey wanted to invite Kallista and Nakia and the rest, but Peter was terrified they would ruin the day. And he wanted to be perfect.

When Jersey entered, he was editing an article for the History journal. He stopped mid sentence. There was a flurry of movement as the dogs lazily got up to greet Jersey. They were always so excited; they rarely left Peter’s side. At her question, he smiled and nodded. He stood from the desk and went over to one of the bookshelves. The clover was in a box, nondescript. He leaned in to press a greeting kiss to Jersey’s temple before he opened it to show her.

“I paid a little more for it. They tried to charge me an uneven number and I just… couldn’t. I didn’t want it to be bad luck,” he said, smiling. He knew he could be a bit ridiculous sometimes, but he wasn’t going to apologise for it.


<Jersey> She knelt down to greet the dogs, mindful of her dress as she was met with excitement. A laugh escaped past her lips and she greeted them in return, relaxing in their presence. Their constant love was something that cheered her up, always made her smile. They had always been such sweet members of what Jersey considered to be her friends and family from the moment she met them, and after scratching behind Ellie’s ears, kissing Jack on the top of his head, she straightened up properly and walked further in.

She met Peter where he stood, her hand moving to rest on the man's hip once he had turned to face her, her lips brushing his jaw. Her eyes brightened as she saw the clover, a soft grin on her lips as she settled against his side easily. “I think we could use all the good luck we can get.” Her fingertips brushed against his jacket, her gaze lifting to his face while she grinned, “I’m excited, and nervous.” Jersey bit her bottom lip and then looked back down to the clover in thought. “You know… I’ve been thinking.” She trailed off, trying to think of the best way to explain herself.

Jersey stepped away from Peter, pacing briefly before she stopped and faced him, ignoring Bear as he barked at her. “And before you say it, I know you don't like unplanned things, but it’s the fifth. You wanted today, and I can’t plan to save my life. Why don't we just… go, now? You and me.” She inclined her head, her green eyes questioning. “I don’t want anyone to feel unincluded… but you worry about safety, and if no one is included then no one can feel as if they were left out.” She frowned, “And then! We can have a celebration for everyone if they want to attend.”


<Peter Parkman> For all his logic and his seeming obliviousness to most emotions, Peter wasn’t an unfeeling man. Sometimes, he was oblivious. When it came to picking up cues, when other people expected him to know that they were angry or upset or sarcastic, he knew only to read what was on the surface, what was given to him, or what was said. He took everything at face value, often finding it hard to discern sarcasm. Or jokes.

But when Jersey pressed herself up against him like she did now, when her kisses lined his jaw, he could swear he could feel his heart begin to race a little quicker - even though his heart no longer beat. When she uttered her suggestion, that heart rate quickened all the more - but this time it wasn’t solely due to his feelings toward his fiance. It had a lot to do with her suggestion. Both planned and unplanned - neither of them had been able to settle on a date. Maybe it was because neither of them were accustomed to taking control

But here was Jersey, doing her best to take control in a way that was entirely spontaneous. Peter’s mouth opened then shut again. He glanced over his shoulder at the computer, the books open on the desk, the blinking cursor still stuck in the middle of a sentence. In the middle of a sentence. A shudder collided with the shake of his head, another open and close of the mouth before he finally cleared his throat and focused.

“I can see the logic. In … eloping,” he said with a slow nod. “But … right now? Now now? We haven’t got the rings yet…” he said. Surely, they couldn’t get married without the rings. It just was not done.

<Jersey> “He’s always been so handsome.” She thought it with a smile as she settled into him, her mind racing with the idea. He’d wanted the fifth, Jersey herself hadn’t anything specific in mind. But, she also wondered what he’d think, if he'd go along with the idea of eloping. Surprises were more her thing, she knew he didn’t like the concept when it was done for him… but there she was, suggesting one that would be big.

Jersey bit her bottom lip briefly. Her head tilted back slightly to watch him, observe him. Her thumb moved over the floral engagement ring on her finger and then she let go of him gently to twist it nervously in place. “You can do this.” She exhaled a breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding and gave a grin as she lifted her hand to softly rest her hand against his cheek.

She felt the shudder, her gaze following to where his had been before she let out a chuckle. “You’ve said I come first to the schedule… this isn’t any different. We’ll work it out, together.” Her hand dropped to his chest where the other would soon join it as she faced him properly. There was a bit of excitement that traced its way up her spine and she inclined her head partially as if considering it.

Peter had a point. But, she'd thought of it. “We can get something on our way. Wedding bands can always be repurchased, engraved.” She gave a soft grin as she looked up at him with a soft expression playing across her features, “Will you marry me, Peter, tonight?”


<Peter Parkman> When Peter sighed, it was the sigh of a man who’d been beaten - of a child, when something didn’t go his way. And yet it wasn’t a stubborn sigh, or that of a sore loser - but instead of the kind of child who was afraid of the repercussions. A nervous kind of huff, because she’d used his words against him. Yes, she came before the schedule - a promise that wasn’t tested until now.

It took him a few long seconds to steel himself, before he nodded.

“Yes. Okay. But just let me finish the sentence,” he said, his fingers closing around Jersey’s, lifting her knuckles so that he could kiss them quickly, before he released them and swung around the desk. He took a seat and re-read the paragraph that came before; he stared at the keyboard for two seconds before he decided on a set of words, ending the clause with a full stop. If it was rushed and imperfect he could edit it again later. At least he wouldn’t have that split sentence and that unended thought hanging over him for the rest of the night - far be it for him to let something so small ruin something so momentous.

When it was done, he saved his work and shut the computer down, waiting for the mechanical whirring to stop before he stood up again, lifting his jacket from the back of the chair and pulling it over his shoulders. He glanced down at his attire, and then over at Jersey’s, admiring her from head to toe and back again.

“Do we need to change…?” He asked. They were eloping. But did she still want to dress up? Did she have a dress in mind? But she was beautiful as she was, and she already looked like she’d gone to some effort to look nice. Peter pushed his fingers through his hair. He felt like he needed a flower in his pocket. Something.

“...or are we going like this?”


<Jersey> As he sighed, Jersey gave a triumphant smile before she leaned up to press a kiss to his lips once, and then once more. She knew the sound and she looked up at him with adoration in her eyes. “This is it. We’re getting married.” It was a different feeling, taking control of something and… oddly enough, she felt secure in her decision.

In her pushing.

“Alright my love.”

She inclined her head, the same smile still on her lips as she let her hands drop and brushed her thumb over her skin. Jersey chuckled and moved to pick up Quentin, the cat purring immediately as she scratched underneath her chin. In her black dress, the woman didn't care that the cats hair would cling to the cloth. She had a lint brush in her purse.

His question had her green eyes lowering to the dress she wore, to the cat in her arms and then to his clothing. “I think we look fine like this, but,” She paused as she set Quentin down on the back of the chair. Her long hair fell over her shoulder as she moved to one of the roses that she had bought previously. Using her nails, she cut two free and tucked one behind her ear and brought the second over to Peter, holding it out with a smile. “Here.”


<Peter Parkman> The lack of preparation had Peter feeling more nervous than he should. It was the only thing that he was nervous about. It wasn’t the fact that he was going to be bound to Jersey - that bit was logical. Though, was there really a lack? The two were engaged, and as soon as they has started talking dates, Peter had done the research. He knew exactly what they needed, and they had exactly what they needed. He knew exactly where they had to go - though he hadn’t yet tested the distance, or how long it would take to get there, or how many steps. He was at least grateful that he didn’t have to cross any large bodies of water to get there.

The rose that Jersey held out to him threw him off balance. He stared at the flower before he plucked it from Jersey’s fingers, holding it tentatively for a few seconds before he simply echoed Jersey - he tucked the rose behind his ear. Peter had been married before. He’d done this before. But there’d been no flowers. Not for him, anyway. Lily had had flowers. The flower girls had had flowers. The guests had had rose petals to throw. But Peter himself hadn’t been given any. Was this what he was supposed to do?

The rest of the ingredients that they required were stashed in the safe that was hidden behind a panel of books. With the rose still tucked behind his ear, he went to the safe and retrieved the canvas bag which held all of the things that they needed - including the cash that the ritualist required.

“Shall we go, then?” he asked, gesturing toward the door, the bag slung over his shoulder, and the opposite arm held out for Jersey to take.


<Jersey> She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this nervous. This happy. There were other emotions felt that Jersey pushed aside for the time being as she bit down softly on her bottom lip and tried to soften her smile. The bright grin on her face, however, ceased to disappear as she brushed her hair over her shoulder. She watched her fiancé quietly, humming before she moved to set her phone down. She didn’t want any distractions, it was their night. Her attention would be solely on Peter and after running through a mental note of all that was needed, checking them off as he got them, she ran her tongue over her teeth.

They were anything but proper when it came to their relationship. It was something that Jersey loved about it, something she had missed during the months they had been apart. With another soft sound, the woman returned to put her heels on and grabbed her small purse before returning to where she stood. Once Peter was near once again, she set her hand on his forearm and leaned up to press another kiss to his cheek. Afterwards, she took his offered arm and curled her fingertips softly over the cloth of his jacket.

“Yes, definitely.”

Jersey wasn’t sure if she was so ready to go because she feared they would fall apart again, or if she was so impatient because she wanted to make sure she would always be his. The blonde smiled warmly towards Peter, taking in his appearance and the rose tucked behind his ear. “Just a few more hours until forever. I love you, Peter.” She knew she said the words often. She always had, but it felt to be a good time to say it now.


<Peter Parkman> As soon as Jersey’s arm slipped through Peter’s, he began to lead them out the door. His feet scuffed to a pause -- how could they not? -- when she told him she loved him. It was something Peter assumed was assumed, something he thought they both knew the other felt. He had to be reminded that it was something people liked to hear, too, and whenever Jersey told him she loved him he was reminded that did indeed love her, too.

“I love you,” he said with a lazy and yet delighted grin, his arm slipping around Jersey’s waist, tugging her close so he could brush his lips over hers.

The night’s hours had been discarded; a new plan was in place. Once outside Peter had pulled up the map on his phone, thoroughly glad that the places they need to go were all on the North side of the river. They had to stop to get rings, first. And then they had to go and find Aeryn.

“It would make sense to go this way,” he said when out on the pathway, pointing to the route that led to the gift shop -- it led over a bridge. Did Jersey know about his aversion to bridges? Surely, she did. Peter pointed to the other route, the long way around.

“We’ll have to go the long way, but then it’s not too far to the mansion,” he said. He’d plugged all the locations into google maps; he loved the app. It even estimated the time it would take to get to each place. He liked to walk each route several times, he liked to prove it wrong or prove it right. Sometimes he even contacted google to alert them to their errors, to suggest they change their calculations. Whether or not they took his suggestions into account, he didn’t know. But it made him feel better.

With the phone in one hand and his other around Jersey’s waist, he began to lead the way through the park behind West Towers -- it was the scenic route, though he made sure to widely skirt the edges of the lake that had gathered by the river.


<Jersey> That night was it. Jersey felt the smile stay where it had been placed across her lips as she snuggled into his grasp. The fact time had made it all the reluctance and doubt she had months before become a laughable memory. Their time together as a couple was something she would never take for granted. The lazy smile sent a sensation of her heart flipping in her chest, the blonde tilting her head slightly as she leaned up to meet his kiss.

She slipped her hand onto his hip, smoothing her hand over the waistband of his pants. Afterwards, she followed his gaze to where the path began on the map. Her green eyes sparkled warmly, not caring about the length of their walk. “It’s not too long, We’ve walked longer together back when I was alive. Or well. You carried me a further route.” Her lips twitched in amusement as she remembered the incident fondly.

“Even if it was a long, treacherous journey,” Jersey paused as she looked up at him with a smirk, “You’re worth the wait.” Humming contently, she followed at his pace, enjoying the evening air. Her heels clicked as they went, the blonde looking up at her fiancé lightly under her lashes as she searched for any signs that he was uncomfortable. Planning things out, she knew, was something he liked to do. She liked surprises, spontaneously doing things at times.

“Are you alright with this?”

She asked telepathically, her red lipped smile unwavering. Jersey knew Peter wasn’t fond of it because he couldn't answer in the same manner, but it was her own little habit. Her own quirk, she supposed. The telepath spent quite a bit of time in her own head during their separation and it showed sometimes, whether or not she liked it.


<Peter Parkman> Peter didn’t want to think about long and treacherous journeys. The one they were now undertaking might be long, but it wasn’t the longest. And it wasn’t treacherous. The path they’d walked thus far, together or apart, had been treacherous enough. They had been through enough, hadn’t they? They didn’t need anything else standing in their way. These thoughts meandered slowly through Peter’s brain, interspersed amongst the numbers, with each step he took. He would know just how many steps they had taken between here and marriage.

There was only the barest hint of a twitch when Jersey’s voice rung, loud and clear, in his mind. He didn’t say anything, this time -- there was no stopping her, and he was slowly becoming accustomed to it. As if in response, just because he could, he reached out to the shadows and tugged them closer, weaving and wrapping them around himself and Jersey. Now they walked in their own personal bubble of darkness. No one would look their way when they passed.

“Yes,” he said.

He was going to leave it at that, but then realised that he wanted to explain.

“You said I’d be worth the wait, even if the journey was long and treacherous. Jersey, our journey has already been long and treacherous. Don’t you think? Not physically, obviously. Well, maybe…” he said, remembering the physical hurts. He’d been beaten into a coma. That was physical enough.

“So really, we’ve already waited long enough. We’ve weathered the journey, and we’ve come out the other end in one piece. We deserve this. We are worth this,”[/color] he said, his fingers closing over Jersey’s hand, squeezing tightly. He smiled down at her.

“Trust me, Jers. You know me. If I wasn’t okay with it I wouldn’t be here,” he said. Which was God’s honest truth. If Peter were stressing to any great extent, he would not have left the asylum. Or he’d have long ago turned back, or collapsed into an inconsolable heap in the gutter. Instead, he walked on, the numbers steadily building in the background of his thoughts, no hesitation in his steps whatsoever.


<Jersey> Marriage had always been something that Jersey hadn’t thought of for the first few months after she'd awoken in the hospital without any knowledge of who she was. She hadn’t thought if she had someone waiting for her, or if she didn't - with the lack of a ring or tan line on her finger, she had assumed it was a safe bet. And when she had fallen for Peter… well, Jersey had almost been positive it wasn’t a possibility due to the fact her instincts were something she could follow.

As she listened to her fiancé, she couldn’t help but agree. The noise she made was a soft hum, at least until she paused at the mention of physical hurts. At that, she gave him an affectionate squeeze followed by a kiss to his chest after she turned her head. “We’ve both been hurt enough to include that.” She murmured quietly. The thought of Peter unconscious, and then nearly losing him… it caused her to push it aside.

“You’re right.” She stated, looking up at him and giving a lazy smile in response. “And regardless of all of it, we’ve come out together, loving and happy.” It was something that made it all worth it, definitely. “I’d go through it all again with you if I had to, knowing where we would be today.” Even if she didn't particularly want to, it wouldn't be done with a moment's hesitation.

A chuckle escaped past her lips. “I know.” She squeezed his hand affectionately, looking down at her engagement ring on her finger. She still found it to be beautiful. “I’m glad you are… I was honestly nervous about asking you. I know you aren't big on surprises and well, I did spring it.” She stated simply.

<Peter Parkman> Peter did not want to think about doing it all over again. It was not a statement he could agree to. The very thought of going through everything they had already gone through for a second time left him speechless, his metaphorical heart in his throat as it threatened to choke him with panic at something only imagined. He had to push the panic aside, swallowing it heavily as he shook his head.

“No, I am not big on surprises. The more you mention it the more I think about it. It’s okay, Jersey,” he said, tangling his fingers in hers so that he could bring her knuckles up to his lips. He was learning a thing or two about how to deliver things; his words might have sounded harsh but there was tenderness in his movements, and a smile on his lips. The plan was in motion. Because it was in motion, because he knew where their steps were taking them, because he knew the next several steps, it was no longer a surprise.

“I know where we are going, it’s not a surprise anymore. It’s a plan,” he said, the smile broadening. Their pace was not slow. It was not fast either, but they were getting to where they needed to be.

“Do you know what kind of ring you would like? What kind do you think we should get?” he asked. He did not want to focus anymore on whether this was a surprise or not, nor did he want to think about the past and the idea that it might somehow repeat itself. It filled him with far too much terror. And so he focused on the now, and on what they were going to do next.



<Jersey>  The words had her falling quiet, her smile growing as she saw the one on his lips. All was well. Nodding to show she understood, the blonde settled into her pace and made a noise of contentment. Marriage. It wasn’t something she had thought of, something that Nakia had teased her about previously, but now that it was happening… well, the blonde was just happy to have it happening. His question had her pausing mentally, her green gaze dropping to the engagement ring on her finger as she considered what they should look for in their wedding bands.

“There are different kinds?”

She asked, realizing how little she had actually looked at wedding rings. She had always assumed they would be matching, something they would find together, but… “I don’t know, honestly.” She murmured as her thumb rubbed against his skin idly. Jewelry wasn’t something she ever focused on. She had her rings on her fingers, hardly removed unless she was cleaning them or working with clay. “Something that matches, kind of simple? I'm still in love with the style of this one. So, one that compliments it?” Her gaze lifted to Peter, curious of his opinion. “What do you think?”



<Peter Parkman> Peter nodded. Yes, there were different kinds. There were gold ones and silver ones, rose gold, white gold. There were jewels and embellishments. It was jewelry, and he was male. Not only was he male, but he was not the kind to link nostalgia to bits and pieces of metal, but these ones were supposed to mean something. They couldn’t pick just any. Or could they? Was it what happened to the metal afterwards that made them important?

Peter shrugged, the numbers still ticking in the background, with each step they took.

“I like simple,” he said, nodding. Jersey would know that about Peter. He was not a hoarder; things, material objects, did not mean much to him. Everything that he owned had a practical purpose, even the books that lined the shelves. Each book brought him a particular kind of joy -- even the collection of comics that he had stored away, all neatly in their plastic to keep them from aging.

“I think white gold is classic. I think it will match. Something simple,” he nodded, repeating that one word. He did not need anything fancy.


<Jersey>  Something simple. It made Jersey smile as she walked comfortably beside him. It was a little funny to her, as she was certainly the opposite of simple. A little hectic at times, but she tried her best to make her soon-to-be husband's life easier. And well, it was certainly going to be less troublesome over time, now wasn't it? She looked down at the engagement ring once more. It had been so perfect, it was perfect. Just the right amount of girly, but symbolic to her - he had picked it out.

“Matching, of course, for yours and mine. Can’t be without that.”

She stated as she looked up at the man. She gave a lift of her lips in a smirk. Her thumb rubbed against the band on her finger as she considered it, looking down at her feet temporarily. It didn’t really matter at the end of the day. “It’s almost as if this can't come fast enough.” She admitted. “I never expected it… then it happened, and now here we are.” Jersey chuckled, thinking back to the day they had met. “I never thought I would be meeting the love of my life when I was out that night.”

She could remember the heat from the cocoa he had accidentally caught her leg with as they walked. A phantom sensation, of course, but one that made her grin all the same. “And now, we're heading towards the same spot where I first saw you and the kids. With that piece of paper in your hand.”


<Peter Parkman> Peter had never thought about it the way Jersey was now; that everything they had done had led them to this point, as if nothing was in their control, as if everything had happened for a reason. It was a romantic notion, but also a terrifying one. Peter was a man who liked to be in control of everything. If nothing he did made a difference, then what was the point of anything? No, he shook his head. No, he would not think about that.

When she pointed out where they were, Peter looked up, sharply looking around. Much to his surprise, she was right. This was the place they had met, but he would not dwell on the coincidence. Nor would he stop. They were on a mission, now. They had a goal, and they should keep going until they reached in. And besides, hadn’t Jersey said it couldn’t come fast enough?

“White gold, yes,” he said, still peering at that spot where they had met. The shop they needed was just down the road, and around the corner. He smiled -- he had to smile, to at least reassure Jersey that he was okay, that they were on the right track.

“This is the right thing to do,” he nodded, distractedly. Jersey had just made a speech. Would Peter have to make a speech? He had to reassure himself that it was going to be okay, even if he had never met this ritualist before. A ritualist, performing an unknown ritual. He had done the research, he reminded himself. Plenty of people had done it before. It was going to be okay.

But, she was right. It couldn’t happen fast enough. So he slipped his arm around Jersey’s waist and picked up the pace, headed for the jewelry shop.


<Jersey>  Did she always get nervous and talk a lot? She knew she was prone to rambling at times… Her fingertips clutched his jacket as she tried to make herself relax. He didn’t need her to seem nervous, and she certainly didn’t want him to think that she was having second thoughts. It was a bit of a nice notion, coming across where the two had first met. Significant, perhaps a sign that the two were headed in the best direction for them?

Jersey stayed close to her fiance, humming quietly to herself as she heard him agree with her. The two loved each other, and had even when they were apart. “Not too much longer.” She thought, picking up her own pace so that she wouldn’t trail behind him, staying close as they went.

She knew this area from the less-than-legal ventures she made stealing - collecting some of the ingredients for the ritual. Knowing Peter, she preferred to keep that to herself, however, and simply remained quiet.

Husband and wife. It was a title that she’d be happy to share with him, regardless of the consequences that Jersey knew would follow. Those consequences would be something she could deal with - even if she didn’t like them. He was worth it all, she knew it. They were worth it.

As the shop came into view, she made a nervous, excited squeak and then felt embarrassed. They could do this. They would do this. “So white gold, matching.” She squeezed his side affectionately, “Should we just look for simple wedding bands? I mean if we’d like something different down the road, we can always get new rings. Have them engraved or what not.” The blonde looked up at him, trying to make it easier. It wasn’t the design that was really important to her. In all honesty, it could have come from a vending machine at this point.


<Peter Parkman> There were too many questions. Peter was pretty certain what he thought he wanted, or what would match what Jersey already had. The engagement ring was complex and intricate. It was not simple. To get a wedding ring for her that was as busy as her engagement ring would only look gawdy. The questions were dismissed in Peter’s mind, though for Jersey he nodded and smiled.

“White gold, matching. Simple,” he said. “If they are simple we don’t need new ones to engrave. I think getting new ones later will only take away the sentimentality. If they are simple to begin with we can engrave the ones we have,” he said, matter-of-fact. 

Stepping into the shop, which looked like it would close soon, Peter could see that it suited his sensibilities. It was broken up into sections -- gold, silver, white gold, rose gold. He stepped straight over to the white gold section and began to peruse, his fingers still curled tight around Jersey’s hand. This was not his decision alone. “I think that you should choose,” he said, mumbling to Jersey. He was aware of the hovering shopkeeper, and he was a private person. He didn’t much like strangers. Their presence made him antsy. “I chose the engagement ring. I think that you should choose the wedding rings…” he said. It was only fair, right?


<Jersey>  It was fair, his suggestion. Jersey traced her thumb against his skin before she then gave a nod of her head to show that she understood. There were too many rings - she couldn’t help but blink at the selection. “It makes sense.” Jersey said, to his words. She pushed her hair over her shoulder as she stepped forward, just enough so that she could look at them properly as she kept hold on his hand - ignoring the shopkeeper. There were a handful of rings that she liked, the different styles all pretty in their own way.

The rose gold engagement ring on her finger often had Jersey glancing down at it in wonder before she glanced back to something that had caught her eye. Maybe she should have sprung it on him a little bit earlier in the evening, but the woman knew the shopkeeper wouldn't say anything about the time. It had been something she'd learned as a cashier on her own, even when she wanted to leave people tended to linger. She didn't want to make it too quick of a choice, however.

It was nice, she noticed, that they kept the matching sets together. But as she found something simple, a diamond band ring for her, and a gold band with a diamond hidden inside, Jersey tugged Peter a little closer. She pointed it out with her fingernail, looking up at him. “What do you think, handsome?” She loved the simplicity of it, that it didn't scream out or look tacky. It would match her engagement ring, too. “That one there?”


<Peter Parkman> The shopkeeper kept his distance but didn’t stay too far away. As soon as Jersey pointed out the rings, turning to Peter to ask what he thought, the shopkeeper swooped.

“A good choice, if I don’t say so myself,” he said, opening the drawer and retrieving the tray that held the rings that Jersey had pointed toward. “Simple and elegant, beautiful,” he added, his voice and features not at all lacking the passion he had for his work. The show wasn’t a show, but was a genuine regard for the pieces he sold. He probably had something good to say about all of them, probably favoured none over any other. But he was probably good at deciding what would suit certain couples and what would not.

“Would you like to try them on?” he asked. Despite his passion for his work, he was clearly eager to make a sale. And Peter could not deny the practicality of trying the rings on. If they were what they liked, and they did not fit, they would have to come back later anyway to have them resized, if not engraved at the same time. Still wary of the stranger’s presence, Peter shoved the anxiety aside and nodded, giving way to common sense. First, he plucked the diamond ring from the set, lifting Jersey’s hand in his own so that he could -- as if he were practicing -- slide the ring onto her finger.

“I like them,” he said. “Does it fit?” he asked. The ring slid easily onto Jersey’s finger, but only she could say whether it was too loose or too tight, or if it sat just right. These were the things they could have done if they were not doing this spontaneously. They’d have ordered rings to size. But this would have to do.


<Jersey>  The ring didn’t fit quite correct. It was loose on her ring finger, but it wasn’t too bad as she looked at design. For now, it would do. She smiled as she looked up to Peter and chuckled, “It’ll have to go a little bit down, but it won’t slide off and get lost. If anything, it’ll just touch my knuckle. We can get that done after the holiday is over.” In the pit of her stomach, it was like butterflies were flying around aimlessly as she looked at the way it sat against her skin.

“As soon as possible?” Her green eyes moved to the other man who was hovering too close even for her comfort.

She hadn’t been that excitement since the engagement, too, the woman inclining her head as she took the ring meant for him out of the box. Her fingertips brushed against his hand, looking down at his finger as she slid the band up his skin. Allowing them to ghost over his flesh afterwards, she looked back up at him, “How does yours fit, handsome?” She asked, ignoring the shop keeper as he commented that they both looked very nice, very fitting.

Truthfully, she wouldn't care if they had been taken out of a cereal box. Briefly, there was the reminder that Peter wouldn't do that, as he liked everything detailed, but she pushed the thought out of her head. Bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, it was the easiest way to nudge aside her nerves as they buzzed. The tip of her toes to the top of her head, the woman was practically vibrating. “I like them, too.”


<Peter Parkman> The ring was cold as it slid onto his finger, but that didn’t matter. His skin was cold, too -- a predicament he had grown accustomed to. Even Jersey’s fingers, as they ghosted over his, were cold. But it didn’t bother him. Like went with like.

Peter twirled the ring on his finger, shook his hand, curled his fingers into a fist before stretching them out again. The ring barely moved, but was not too tight. Where Jersey’s might need to be re-sized, Peter’s fit perfectly, like a glove made just for him. “It’s perfect,” he said, quickly taking the ring off and putting it back where it was supposed to go. They were not yet married and it seemed odd to have the ring on his finger before it was made official. For anyone else it might not have mattered, but Peter liked to do things in the right, traditional order.

The shopkeeper smiled warmly, his gleaming eyes glued to the couple. Peter hoped that the ritualist would not be this invasive; the ceremony was special and, though it was one often shared with family and friends Peter didn’t welcome the company. Not of strangers. If Keara had been there, he might have invited her -- any of his childer, too. As it was, they could not be found.

As soon as he was sure that Jersey liked the rings, that they were the right ones -- even if she would have to come back and have hers resized, he pulled out his wallet to pay for them. They swapped -- Peter took Jersey’s ring and he gave her his ring. The box fit snugly into his pocket, though his fist remained curled around it. He would not let it go. It made him anxious to be walking the streets with such precious cargo, but they didn’t have far to go.

“...have we got everything we need?” he finally asked, going over the checklist in his head and checking and re-checking each item. But still, he was worried that they had forgotten something.



<Jersey>  She slid the ring off her own finger and then put her hands behind her back as she watched Peter with a warm smile. She had never thought they would get here. Not after their split, after she’d ran from him - an act that Jersey hardly could believe had happened. She was glad that he had not counted it, that short break. “Size aside, they are perfect.” She agreed, thanking the shopkeep as she took hold of the box containing Peter’s ring.

She set her hand on his hip gently, an affectionate gesture.

Jersey did not want him to be too anxious, she didn’t want him to need the feeling to return home as soon as the ritual was over. “Yes, handsome. We’ve got everything that we need for the ritual now. Our rings were the final touch.” Although she was not a ritualist, she’d read over the list too many times. They had gathered the ingredients that they both needed in a timely manner and now, there was nothing stopping them. The only way that they could continue to go was forward, and she thought that was a constant that Peter would like.

“Are you ready?”


<Peter Parkman> “Yes,” he said, blinking. He was ready as soon as they stepped out of the house; he’d made a decision, and once decisions were made, they were set in concrete. Indeed, there was no way to go but forward. To turn back now would compromise Peter’s sanity more than if they were to continue on their path toward the castle, and the ritualist. The stranger. The latter part he tried hard not to think about.

With Jersey’s assurance that they had everything they needed, Peter glanced left and right to get his bearings before stepping off the curb and crossing the street, so they could head around the corner that would lead to the road that would take them straight to the mansion within which Aeryn lived. Did she live there? Did she ever move from her constant position? Peter wouldn’t imagine what kind of life she led, either.

The mansion, when they approached, looked as if it were abandoned. In one window there was a glimmering light, as of firelight. But there were flowers in the overgrown gardens and the moss that crept across the bricks was not entirely uninviting. It wasn’t as if there were clouds overhead and dead branches barring their entrance. There were even vines, sporting small, pretty white flowers. Peter’s anxiety diminished, some.

“I think that you should do the talking…” he said, his arm around Jersey’s waist. His foot hit the first step; he might need her to do the talking, but they would cross the threshold together.


<Jersey>  She wondered what her parents would think about Peter, had they been alive. It was a strange thought that Jersey didn’t quite expect as they made it to the mansion and her green eyes took in the little details. Her brother had always said that they were good people, but their memory was still fuzzy. She doubted that they would have had anything bad to say to him, and she imagined her dad giving them his blessing. The thought itself had her smiling, softly, as she considered it.

“That’s fine with me, my love.” She said as she looked up at him. Her body eased automatically into his hold. The next time that they stepped past that threshold, they would be husband and wife. Eternally bound together. “It’s pretty here.” Jersey said, inspecting the flowers. When she had first heard of Aeryn in an abandoned mansion, this was far from what she had expected.

Broken windows, a cracked door. Instead, the door looked solid enough that it didn’t give any loud noise as she reached out and pushed her hand against it. Stepping onto the first step, Jersey could smell that it was slightly musty inside, but she couldn’t spot any dust on the floor. She moved her hand to rest over his in reassurance, that she’d be there forever as she rubbed her thumb over his and waited to make the same step over the threshold.

Even there, she could hear the soft words being spoken from within the mansion somewhere. She recognized the same strange language that she’d heard before. The voice, however, was different. It wasn’t soft, nor heavy. The telepath inclined her head slightly, lifting her chin afterwards to give her fiance a warm smile.