[ Well, that makes two of them slightly confused, at least, because Peter doesn't quite understand that. Why Charlie would opt to show up when Peter came calling.
It's strange, really. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
But that's a riddle he can unravel later, and the two of them hurry to the edge of the dead village, following the trails worn into the ground by the hunters and fur traders who traveled the areas. Only when they're reasonably far away does Peter hear the echo of a few shouts from the town – the corpses of his former teammates found, probably – and he pulls them off the paths into the underbrush.
It's there that his strength flags, and he has to stop for breath, propping himself up against a tree while a hand clenches around the bloodied fabric of his shirt at his side. ]
Goddammit. [ Hissed out, and he glances over his shoulder, as if waiting for the old crew to come bounding through the trees. ]
We really need to do some catching up, because I am not a pig farmer.
[ he glances back at the abandoned buildings, frowning at the shouts that echo over to their little hiding spot. His brow knits together in thought, and he licks his lips ]
I could create a distraction. Or like, an illusion. It might buy us some time.
[ He goes where he’s guided, his free arm curled protectively over his middle, hand glued to his side. They move further into the underbrush, off the beaten path. ]
Just— don’t get us killed. [ As wryly as he can manage. ] That’d really spoil this reunion.
[ He snorts a little and rolls his eyes. As if getting chased wasn't spoiling this reunion already.
He gives a light wave of his hand- hardly needed, but he wants to give Peter the visual cue- and the spell keeping their presence concealed dissolves around them.
Charlie then goes very still, a hand extended in front of him and he concentrates. He concentrates on Peter, how he looks and moves, and the air in front of him starts to shimmer. In a few moments, an exact duplicate of Peter solidifies into being. The illusion looks over at the real thing and flases a smirk, before tuckng his am around his middle and running back towards the town, his gait stilted but still quick.
The wizard hasn't moved much, his expession stony and intense as he mentally guides his creation along the outskirts of the town. Soon enough, someone spots it and gives a shout of warning, Illusory Peter dashes off into the trees in the opposite direction of the real one's hiding place, the men in the red coats giving chase. ]
Edited (tablet tags are hard) 2017-03-25 01:47 (UTC)
[ He lets out a breath as the magic falls away from them, propping himself up with another tree as Charlie concentrates. It's odd, slipping back into this easy sense of trust, knowing that Charlie isn't going to try and screw him over.
Dangerous, probably. Careless. There's no telling how this time has changed either of them or whatever used to lie between them, but he slips back into the habit as easily as falling.
The air shimmers, and Peter jerks back when the copy of him appears. It's— him (though maybe not quite as handsome, he might say if his voice hadn't suddenly escaped), and he answers his double's smirks with a blank stare. The copy runs off, adopting his awkward stride, and when it captures the attention of Peter's old teammates, Peter waits a few tense moments before he lets out a sigh of relief.
He waits almost a full minute as the footsteps and voices die away before quietly clearing his throat. Then, with hardly any inflection, ]
[ he doesn't reply right away, his focus is on his illusion, but after a little while, he lets it go. Peter's old crew can keep chasing the wind for all he cares. It should buy them some time at least. ]
[ Peter wastes another second just staring, expression slack and lips slightly parted. Charlie's nonchalant response earns a flat sort of look, before Peter just huffs out an exasperated breath. ]
Nothing, apparently.
[ Other than that being creepy as shit.
He watches the area where Charlie sent off the copy of Peter, wondering how far those bastards will try to follow before they discover the trick or before they just plain give up. A long while, hopefully.
Which is just as well, because Peter is feeling drained, and he sags against the rough back of the tree. ]
Good trick.
[ With the lackluster delivery of someone who just watched a magician produce a coin from behind his ear. ]
[ He just sort of. Blinks at Peter a couple of times. ]
I, uh. Not really? Sorry.
[ Another frown, and he goves Peter a once over. Theyneeded to get him off his feet and resting sooner rather than later, but lingering too close to the village was surely a bad move. ]
[ Because he's reached the same conclusion as Charlie – that being that sticking this close to the village isn't a good idea. He shoves away from the tree, nods toward the forest. ]
We stick around too long, and they'll definitely find us.
[ Peter appreciates the silence – if only so he can better listen for the sound of footsteps, of voices. The old team were effective mercenaries, were damn good at what they did, but they never were particularly good at stealth. Too much spirit in them, Yondu liked to say. Too much energy in need of an outlet.
They tended to be loud.
It’s a good sign, Peter figures, when he doesn’t hear even a whisper, aside from their own footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Gives him leave to just focus on keeping himself upright and moving.
At Charlie’s question, he blinks over at him, almost as though he had forgotten the other guy was there, engrossed as he was in not tripping and falling flat on his face. ]
Figured it was worth a try. [ He carefully shrugs the shoulder of his good side. ] I had an arrow in me and hounds at my heels. I was desperate.
[ After a while, they come across a fallen log, impossibly large and overgrown with moss. Charlie, short as he is, only has to duck a little to get inside and peer around. The sunlight illuminates the space through small cracks in the wood. It seems as good as any place to hide, and he'd rather get Peter off his feet. He motions for Peter to follow him and to sit down. ]
[ Peter peers into the fallen, hollow log with a fair amount of skepticism when Charlie ducks in. And when Charlie gestures for him to follow, unlike the shorter man, Peter has to crouch a little to avoid hitting his head against the makeshift roof. Carefully, he maneuvers himself to take a seat, grunting quietly with the effort.
At Charlie's next direction, his gaze flits up to him, suddenly wary though he keeps most of it from his face. Rather than remove the shirt entirely, he rucks up the hem just enough to give Charlie access to the wound; this time, with more of his wits about him, he manages to keep the edges of the Mark hidden from view. ]
[ Charlie spends a few moments rummaging around in his bag, pulling out a few things- including a surprising amount of dried herbs, wrapped carefully in paper- and setting them aside.
He cases a quick glance at Peter, frowning slightly before turning his gaze back to his bag. ]
I already saw your Mark. You don't have to be shy about it.
[ holy shit Charlie you can't just say shit like that.
Because Peter jerks around at that, letting out a strangled noise when the abrupt movement pulls at the wound, and he curls up when sharp pain lances up his side. ]
You— [ Breathless, craning his head around to peer at Charlie. ] You what?
[ Shit. Shit. He has no fucking idea what to do about this. The last time anyone's seen the damn Mark was when he was a kid, freshly taken from home and incorporated into the old crew's ranks. Yondu had yanked him to one side, tore the scarf from his neck and shoved his head forward to peer at the dark marks licking up his spine.
"Don't show this to no one, boy," Yondu had said – a warped echo of his mother's instructions. "Ain't no one but me gonna be as kind about riffraff like you havin' a Mark like that."
Peter swallows thickly, mind racing and still, somehow, coming up blank. Eventually, he settles on, ]
[ Charlie stops what he's doing, setting his herbs aside and shuffling to crouch in front of Peter. ]
Hey.
[ His tone is gentle, even. ]
First of all, back in the village really wasn't the time or place to bring it up.
Second of all, you know me. You know where I've come from and how I feel about wizards. What do you think I'm going to do, huh? I'm not freaking out on you, I'm not going to turn you over to some family or stick a blade through your gut just because you're Marked. I'm Marked too, remember?
It doesn't change anything. You're still Peter, I still trust you, and you're still my friend.
[ He swallows again around the strange lump in his throat – nervousness. Anxiety. Some weird, cold thing, because even decades since he was a child, he's still afraid of the boogeymen who could come after him. Though growing up, that fear became less about the families who might steal him away, and more about the bastards who saw Marks and went for their blades before anything else.
A stupid, irrational fear, he knows, considering he's well-versed in acts of violence, these days.
He forces himself to take a deep breath – or as deep as his injury allows – and gives Charlie a quick nod. ]
... Right.
[ Shakily, not entirely convinced, but close enough. ]
[ Charlie furrows his brows, canting his head a little as he looks at Peter. ]
No. Why would it? Anyone can be Marked, wizard or not, and it’s not like I hold the same hatred for magic that most people do. Magic is awesome. It’s the wizards that I can’t stand.
[ His expression smooths out into something much gentler when he adds, ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I came because I wanted to. I didn't have to answer that whistle.
So don't apologize, okay?
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It's strange, really. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
But that's a riddle he can unravel later, and the two of them hurry to the edge of the dead village, following the trails worn into the ground by the hunters and fur traders who traveled the areas. Only when they're reasonably far away does Peter hear the echo of a few shouts from the town – the corpses of his former teammates found, probably – and he pulls them off the paths into the underbrush.
It's there that his strength flags, and he has to stop for breath, propping himself up against a tree while a hand clenches around the bloodied fabric of his shirt at his side. ]
Goddammit. [ Hissed out, and he glances over his shoulder, as if waiting for the old crew to come bounding through the trees. ]
Any tricks, pig farmer?
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[ he glances back at the abandoned buildings, frowning at the shouts that echo over to their little hiding spot. His brow knits together in thought, and he licks his lips ]
I could create a distraction. Or like, an illusion. It might buy us some time.
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Whatever you need to do. [ He takes a deep breath, offers a small self-deprecating sort of smile. ] Think I’m kind of spent.
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[ he puts a hand on Peter's elbow to carefully guide him future off the trail ]
I'm going to have to drop the shielding spell to do it.
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Just— don’t get us killed. [ As wryly as he can manage. ] That’d really spoil this reunion.
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He gives a light wave of his hand- hardly needed, but he wants to give Peter the visual cue- and the spell keeping their presence concealed dissolves around them.
Charlie then goes very still, a hand extended in front of him and he concentrates. He concentrates on Peter, how he looks and moves, and the air in front of him starts to shimmer. In a few moments, an exact duplicate of Peter solidifies into being. The illusion looks over at the real thing and flases a smirk, before tuckng his am around his middle and running back towards the town, his gait stilted but still quick.
The wizard hasn't moved much, his expession stony and intense as he mentally guides his creation along the outskirts of the town. Soon enough, someone spots it and gives a shout of warning, Illusory Peter dashes off into the trees in the opposite direction of the real one's hiding place, the men in the red coats giving chase. ]
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Dangerous, probably. Careless. There's no telling how this time has changed either of them or whatever used to lie between them, but he slips back into the habit as easily as falling.
The air shimmers, and Peter jerks back when the copy of him appears. It's— him (though maybe not quite as handsome, he might say if his voice hadn't suddenly escaped), and he answers his double's smirks with a blank stare. The copy runs off, adopting his awkward stride, and when it captures the attention of Peter's old teammates, Peter waits a few tense moments before he lets out a sigh of relief.
He waits almost a full minute as the footsteps and voices die away before quietly clearing his throat. Then, with hardly any inflection, ]
What the fuck, Charlie.
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What the fuck, what?
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Nothing, apparently.
[ Other than that being creepy as shit.
He watches the area where Charlie sent off the copy of Peter, wondering how far those bastards will try to follow before they discover the trick or before they just plain give up. A long while, hopefully.
Which is just as well, because Peter is feeling drained, and he sags against the rough back of the tree. ]
Good trick.
[ With the lackluster delivery of someone who just watched a magician produce a coin from behind his ear. ]
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What? Was it not a goof likeness?
[ he thought it was pretty good. ]
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Shit. [ More breathed out than said. He shakes his head at Charlie, though there's a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. ]
Ever occur to you that making copies of folks might be creepy?
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I, uh. Not really? Sorry.
[ Another frown, and he goves Peter a once over. Theyneeded to get him off his feet and resting sooner rather than later, but lingering too close to the village was surely a bad move. ]
You good to go or do we need to hunker down here?
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[ Because he's reached the same conclusion as Charlie – that being that sticking this close to the village isn't a good idea. He shoves away from the tree, nods toward the forest. ]
We stick around too long, and they'll definitely find us.
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They walk in silence for a few, and Charlie keeps his ears open for the sounds of pursuit. When none reach him, he finally ventures, ]
So if you didn't think the whistle would work, why did you use it in the first place?
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They tended to be loud.
It’s a good sign, Peter figures, when he doesn’t hear even a whisper, aside from their own footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Gives him leave to just focus on keeping himself upright and moving.
At Charlie’s question, he blinks over at him, almost as though he had forgotten the other guy was there, engrossed as he was in not tripping and falling flat on his face. ]
Figured it was worth a try. [ He carefully shrugs the shoulder of his good side. ] I had an arrow in me and hounds at my heels. I was desperate.
[ A pause, and he adds lightly, ]
You know how it is.
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[ After a while, they come across a fallen log, impossibly large and overgrown with moss. Charlie, short as he is, only has to duck a little to get inside and peer around. The sunlight illuminates the space through small cracks in the wood. It seems as good as any place to hide, and he'd rather get Peter off his feet. He motions for Peter to follow him and to sit down. ]
Get your shirt off. I need to clean that wound.
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At Charlie's next direction, his gaze flits up to him, suddenly wary though he keeps most of it from his face. Rather than remove the shirt entirely, he rucks up the hem just enough to give Charlie access to the wound; this time, with more of his wits about him, he manages to keep the edges of the Mark hidden from view. ]
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He cases a quick glance at Peter, frowning slightly before turning his gaze back to his bag. ]
I already saw your Mark. You don't have to be shy about it.
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Because Peter jerks around at that, letting out a strangled noise when the abrupt movement pulls at the wound, and he curls up when sharp pain lances up his side. ]
You— [ Breathless, craning his head around to peer at Charlie. ] You what?
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I saw your Mark earlier, when I put the bandage on.
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[ Shit. Shit. He has no fucking idea what to do about this. The last time anyone's seen the damn Mark was when he was a kid, freshly taken from home and incorporated into the old crew's ranks. Yondu had yanked him to one side, tore the scarf from his neck and shoved his head forward to peer at the dark marks licking up his spine.
"Don't show this to no one, boy," Yondu had said – a warped echo of his mother's instructions. "Ain't no one but me gonna be as kind about riffraff like you havin' a Mark like that."
Peter swallows thickly, mind racing and still, somehow, coming up blank. Eventually, he settles on, ]
It's not what you think.
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Hey.
[ His tone is gentle, even. ]
First of all, back in the village really wasn't the time or place to bring it up.
Second of all, you know me. You know where I've come from and how I feel about wizards. What do you think I'm going to do, huh? I'm not freaking out on you, I'm not going to turn you over to some family or stick a blade through your gut just because you're Marked. I'm Marked too, remember?
It doesn't change anything. You're still Peter, I still trust you, and you're still my friend.
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A stupid, irrational fear, he knows, considering he's well-versed in acts of violence, these days.
He forces himself to take a deep breath – or as deep as his injury allows – and gives Charlie a quick nod. ]
... Right.
[ Shakily, not entirely convinced, but close enough. ]
It— seriously doesn't bother you?
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No. Why would it? Anyone can be Marked, wizard or not, and it’s not like I hold the same hatred for magic that most people do. Magic is awesome. It’s the wizards that I can’t stand.
[ His expression smooths out into something much gentler when he adds, ]
You’ve got nothing to fear from me. I swear.
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