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Tweak says, "I'm not being ridiculous!"

Peter Vincent thinks people see what they want to (smokingmagician) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2013-02-25 22:26:00

Entry tags:

maleficent, peter vincent

Who: Peter Vincent and Maleficent
What: Peter changed his mind - he DOES want to be a dead hero.
Where: By the river
When: around 9:30 PM Monday, February 25, 2012
Rating: It’s Peter, so language is a definite. Probably some mild violence. Everything else tbd

“This is stupid. Fucking reckless. Dead fucking hero, just like I fucking told Charley. Fuck.” Peter’s fingers tightened around his shotgun as he muttered to himself. He was making his way through the woods bordering the riverbanks. Off to meet the Psychowitch. Joy. He was a fucking idiot.

He knew full well, in that bone-deep, heavy-stomached way, that something bad was going to come of this. It was the same feeling he'd had nearly a year ago, following Charley into Jerry's lair; he knew that he was walking straight into a trap. But if it meant that she was focusing even a fraction of her attention on him, rather than on Ginger, or Andrew or anyone else, then how could he not? He wasn't so stupid as to think they'd rather see him hurt, or that he hadn't given himself away, Maleficent had known exactly how to get to him. He knew exactly what he was doing, and what she was doing, and he was walking straight into it anyways. That was what made him an idiot.

He'd managed to leave the flat without arousing too much suspicion, not telling Andrew where he was headed or who he was meeting, just that he'd be back in an hour or two. Peter had picked up one of his shotguns from the armory on his way out, and a few other small weapons, just in case. Maleficent was not the only danger out there, after all. He was certain that the weapons would have little if any effect on the bitch herself - she was a sorceress after all. Still, the familiar feel of the gun in his hands comforted him some.

He didn't really know what he was going to do once he found her. He had no idea what constituted a "gift" from her, but he knew he didn't want it. He'd agreed to meet her with the vague notion that in doing so he could draw her attention away from Ginger, who for some reason figured putting herself in danger just to spite him would be a good idea. But the further he got from the relative safety of the complex, the closer he got to the river, the more he realized just how stupid and pointless this was. He had to wonder when it was he'd crossed the line from trying to be less of a self-centered ass who ran at the first sign of trouble to being the kind of guy who deliberately walked into this kind of shit.

He stopped. He could hear the river, the barest hints of sound starting to filter through the trees. "Fuck this," he bit out. He was a fucking idiot.

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smokingmagician
2013-02-27 02:12 pm UTC (link)

“Oh, I’m no liar,” Peter said, smirking the tiniest bit. He’d spent too many years lying to himself, trying to convince himself that everyone else had been right, pretending that the truth was the lie. He refused to continue living like that anymore. “People see what they want to see, that’s all.”

When she disappeared into the shadows, and Peter tensed further, bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder properly. But still he didn't fire. He meant to, and would have, but even as he was starting to squeeze the trigger, there was a strange light where Maleficent had been not a moment ago. It was fascinating, eerie, and he knew in a second that he was absolutely fucked, but he couldn't pull his eyes off the light...

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evilintent
2013-02-28 01:06 am UTC (link)

She continued the spell for a few more moments, waiting to get him completely in her thrall. It would be no good to only get him part way there and then flick out of it when she was trying to accomplish anything important. While Maleficent didn't doubt she could start over and still finish what she'd set out to do, hypnotizing him all over again would take up time she wasn't in the mood to waste. There were far more important tasks to complete. Such as finding a better place of residence.

She materialized behind him, keeping the light glowing by focusing her staff on the space he was watching. "Now tell me, Magician, what is it that you fear the most?" she whispered near his ear, wondering what could keep someone who's sole life was to entertain others so twisted and teetering on the edge. What could possibly have been the traumatic trigger to cause such deep rooted emotions?

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smokingmagician
2013-02-28 05:54 am UTC (link)

He could still hear her moving, sense her at his back, but everything felt distanced. Detached. Like it was happening to someone else, because the only thing that mattered was the light. This... was not good. This was like how he’d felt sometimes, years and years back, when they’d given him pills he’d had no choice but to take, because what could a child do with no parents left to shield him anymore? It was like the feeling he’d sought out when the pills and doctors were gone, self-medicating because they’d been right, surely, and he didn’t want to feel anymore. It was all wrong, and Peter tried to fight it... but it was powerful, a siren song, beating out his will.

Then, that question, what is it that you fear the most? came slipping in like a snake. Her voice stirred up a thousand painful memories: fangs and claws gleaming through the dark, tearing into his skin; the taste of blood on his tongue and the bone-deep chill that followed it in; that empty clawing horrible thing taking root in his chest, killing him from the inside out; his mother’s frightened panting, her clammy hands pushing him to the bad of the closet; listening to her scream, to his father scream, to their flesh being torn from their bones and smelling the blood all through the house and that cruel face, smiling down at him and he could fucking feel the malevolence rolling off him and why couldn’t Mum or Dad see it?

Those thoughts, those memories, he didn’t want to voice them. Not to her. But it all still felt so distant, and, shuddering with the horror of his own thoughts, he heard his own voice speaking without meaning to, a hushed, monotone murmur: “That thing. Vampire.”

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evilintent
2013-02-28 06:04 am UTC (link)

Hallucinations were not an easy spell to conjure, especially if she was to weave them so that the man in front of her would see his worst nightmare come to life again and again. She could sense his nightmares, the images he didn't want to quite voice aloud to her and used the power of her staff to start pulling at them, weaving them to manipulate him to her desires.

There was little doubt in Maleficent's mind that the pain at seeing the monster of Peter's dreams would cause him inexplicable amounts of pain, but that was no longer enough to quench her thirst. What had started as a game to bide her time as she contemplated how best to take over this world was slowly becoming an opportunity to use to her benefit.

It was obvious that the others who were displaced like her were the real threat to anything she wanted to cultivate in this world. It was also becoming apparent that they could and would begin filtering her from their communications. Considering she didn't have her trusty companion at her disposal any longer, it would be good to have some sort of eyes and ears on the inside to fill her on their every movement.

"Now, pet, I think there are a few things you can do for me. What do you say?"

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smokingmagician
2013-03-04 04:43 am UTC (link)

He could feel the digging in his head, tugging at memories the way fingers tugged at clothes, pawing for what was underneath. It was as disorienting as it was disturbing, making coherent thought a struggle. She was doing something to him, rearranging things to suit her, but he had no idea what, too preoccupied with trying just to think.

Through the mess, her voice came slithering into his head again. The words gave him something to focus on for a moment, making him fight the magic even harder. He was no one’s pet, not Jerry’s, and certainly not the psychowitch’s. Still, she was too powerful for him, her grip over his mind tight enough that the anger and struggle was reduced to a flicker of strength. What would normally have been a vehement snarl telling her to go fuck herself was strangled into a few pathetic, choked sounds, not recognizable as real words. Then his voice was gone again, his thoughts scattered once more. He was left completely powerless.

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