PARTIES:@longislandcharm @wonder-in-wings TIMING: The 10th day of Parker's emotion excursions, Mid-August SUMMARY: Apparently alley muggings are drawn to Parker like a moth to a flame. Once again, he gets into an altercation but this time he’s found by Winter. WARNINGS: Mentions of gore, blood, violence, unsanitary tw, brief mentions of parental abuse.
Day 10. Worm Row was a little too close for comfort sometimes. Though it was easier to waste time there than Nightfall Grove, with its setting sun at 3pm, which was usually preferred but the Warden didn’t particularly want to go out at night nowadays unless it was in the safety of the Pines. But if he stuck around the house, that drove him even more crazy. All that being said, if Parker never went back to Worm’s Row ever again, it’d be too soon… as he went there of his own volition. He wondered how many times he’d skulk around in those dingy streets, finding something to do with his time only to be approached and accosted by some STRANGER he’d NEVER MET before who threatened him. Then again, perhaps today was a little bit different. The good news was that the last time he was there, Parker had managed to find his spiked iron knuckles. The bad news was that as he walked today, getting nervous energy out, finding himself with a lot of free time as he figured he didn’t have the patience or collected demeanor to work on his projects (not even the giant tooth he assumed belonged to an ancient demon) and he wasn’t going to work at present, the three thugs that attempted to mug him before seemed to be part of a larger gang and Parker, with his fresh gash and ability to take three of them on at once, seemed to make him easily-recognizable to them.
Today was a little different, and this accuser was a little different. It was one guy as opposed to three and he was… certainly a larger fae than a lot of others Parker had encountered so far as he stood half a foot taller than the Warden, looming over him with a sneer and little time for the hunter to respond as the thug aimed a fist at his face which sent him staggering into yet another alley. …It wasn’t TOO different, though. In a rush of red and white-hot anger, Parker was overcome with rage and a tinge of some mystery emotion he refused to acknowledge. The fae had half a foot on the Warden but mattered little as the hunter, who was constantly on edge and only needed one miniscule inconvenience to send him over it, quickly gained the upper hand and wrestled the fae to the ground. He didn’t know what species it was, he didn’t care strangely enough. The moment it had landed on the ground Parker slipped his fingers into his spiked iron paperweight and the onslaught began. One punch, two, three– Over and over. Over and over.
It was the ice cream. It had to be. Every time Winter had ice cream something insane happened and she was starting to really hate the stuff. She had left the hotel that night for a sweet treat, luckily finding an establishment open, and was on her way back when she heard the noise. It wasn’t the smartest decision on her part to move towards it especially in this town and especially at night but once again her curiosity outweighed the voice in her head screaming for her to turn around and go back to the hotel. And curiosity always killed the cat, right?
She moved slowly, her feet light while she made her way into the alley that the noises were coming from while she silently cursed herself in her head. This was so stupid. Why was she allowing herself to get into even more crap in this town? But before Winter could really talk herself out of it she’d stopped in her tracks when a single light source helped reveal a man completely brutalizing another further down in the alley.
The ice cream fell to the ground just like it had back at Mack’s place. She felt the cold sticky substance hit the top of her feet that were glued to their place, the girl flinching with each blow that connected with the larger man’s face. It took a moment for her to really process this whole situation but once she had Winter let out a feeble noise that sounded something along the lines of ‘stop’ only the sound didn’t quite go far enough. It would have been smart to turn and run at that point, try and grab the authorities, but the poor man on the ground might not have had that much time. So she cleared her throat and tried again, this time her voice coming out much louder than before with no doubts that it had reached the two men. “Stop! You’re going to kill him!”
What if that had been the goal? She had no idea what she was interrupting here and yet her feet moved her forward once more, and this time much faster. Stopping just short of the two men, Winter realized she had no idea what the hell she was doing. There was no way to protect herself with nothing on her to use as a weapon but she just hoped having a witness present would help both her and the man lying on the ground. “Stop it!”
He wasn’t sure how long he had been going. The spiked paperweight had been abandoned again sometime during the blurry-minded attack in favor of bare knuckles to the disfigured visage of the fae, who’d since fallen unconscious, losing his glamour and revealing himself to be a particularly large spriggan. Parker wasn’t paying attention though as every fist thrown in the body’s direction felt like the first one he was doing. He was ten days into this damned curse and this was the fourth time he’d been harassed with zero provocation. His muscles rippled with anger as the blood roiled in his veins, turning itself over under his epidermis. It wasn’t until he heard someone shouting, managing to reach his good ear that Parker shook his head from his trance, pausing in his flurry, his fist covered in blood and the spriggan’s face, neck, chest beaten to a pulp. He held his bruised fist wound back like a coiled spring but at the same time, he straightened up from his hunched position, leaning back and breathing heavily as his scarred face that was splashed with the same blood tilted back for a moment to regard the sky. The spriggan lay still under him, weeping blood from the massive contusions that covered its tattooed skin. Parker’s body convulsed briefly, fiercely, as he turned his head sharply and threw an accusatory glare at whoever it was that interrupted his flow. “What are you doing here.” He growled before his blue eyes could properly make out the figure that called to him, unknowingly pulling him from his unintended bloodlust. It was then that he saw a girl. Young adult, maybe mid-20s (though Parker never had strength in that department) and almost immediately once he saw that it wasn’t a threatening-looking man covered in tattoos or brandishing a weapon in his direction, he shuddered out an exhale and he lowered his fist, becoming very still as he kept his unblinking stare on her almost as though she were an ethereal figure standing in the mouth of the alley to dispense justice to him.
A startled gasp left Winter when the man straightened up, his fist still held in the air as he faced her. For a split second she thought he was going to turn on her and bloody her the same way the man on the ground was and she felt herself stumble back. It was a miracle she didn’t fall backwards with how unstable her legs felt, adrenaline mixed with utter terror from the sight that befell her turning them into complete jello, but she somehow stood her ground as his words met her. “What am I doing here? What are you doing? Did you kill him?” Her hand shot out in the general direction of the other man without her eyes leaving the fist that was currently being lowered to the man's side. But with the threat level now lowered, literally, she allowed her gaze to travel over the area again.
There was a weapon on the ground next to a body that was most decidedly not a man. His ears pointed in an unnatural way, his limbs too slender for his body, but it was the sharp teeth that really drew Winter’s attention. Suddenly the threat wasn’t the one covered in another’s blood but the thing that was lying next to him. “What is that?”
It occurred to her that the moment she had crossed the town line into Wicked’s Rest the world had turned upside down and she was damn sure it wasn’t for the better. Whatever this thing was though she still didn’t know which one was the good and which one was the bad in this situation and that fact alone only proved how fucked this place was. Even if the appearance of the one currently unconscious, possibly dead, was seemingly unholy, what the hell did Winter know? All she knew was that the regular, normal looking man was the one who had blood on his hands.
She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat, took another step away from them both on shaky legs, and tried to prepare herself to run if it came to that. It would be a struggle, that was a fact, but Winter wasn’t going down without a fight. “I think you should explain some things quickly before I decide to go to the police.”
As much as Parker was internally hoping that his demeanor coupled with his aggressive appearance, the fae’s blood that coated his hand and was spattered on his shirt and face and his low tone when he asked what her business was would be enough of a deterring combination to perhaps convince the young adult to turn around and leave him to his fury, she instead threw his question back at him. He supposed he should’ve seen it coming; after all, to the average person or even a more mild-mannered hunter (if such a thing existed) they just stumbled in with no context of a guy beating the life out of another guy. She didn’t let the question of what Parker was taking his unrestrained anger out on linger for long when she gave him conflicting information by demanding that he explain himself as she took a step back. She was afraid, yet she wanted answers instead of just wordlessly going to the authorities. He moved more to face her, taking a step back himself from the unconscious body that lay clinging to life at his feet. “It’s a spriggan.” He answered first, as though the answer were obvious when he had an overwhelming feeling that it wasn’t; contrary to how Wicked’s Rest was a hotspot for the supernatural, there were still a shockingly large number of people who had no idea anything strange or unusual was permeating the town, crawling through the streets like a disease, a blotch on an otherwise unremarkable map. As he stood there, looking her down with a steely stare, more of him was being pulled back to where he was, what he’d been doing and how it might’ve looked to others. Mere moments ago, she could’ve gone to the police with no explanation and he wasn’t doubting that he’d get into a fight with them, too. The pendulum threatened to swing in the other direction. Parker wouldn’t let it. Couldn’t. “What would you like an explanation on?” He asked with effort in his voice, restrained, as though he were trying to keep himself from either snapping at her or turning and yelling into the alley until his throat was ripped apart. His bloodied fist, bruised, swollen and aching started flexing and extending in his self-soothing gesture he learned worked well enough to help regulate the fluctuations in his head. The stranger had done nothing wrong, had just happened into the wrong place at the wrong time. She didn’t deserve Parker’s misplaced wrath, despair, sorrow, guilt or shame. He wasn’t about to have a breakdown in front of her.
A spriggan...that name seemed to trigger something in her mind, going back to an online conversation she’d had where someone mentioned the type of fae that could be walking around town. Winter had immediately started a new search window for the various different kinds and she could swear that a ‘spriggan’ was mentioned in some deep lore. Still, seeing one up close was vastly different than reading what she was sure was wrong information about them. The internet never got anything correct.
She was going to ask him to elaborate but when her gaze locked on his almost accusatory one she could feel her fear starting to melt away into anger. It wasn’t unusual for her fight response to overtake her flight, something that had already been showcased a tiny bit that night, and she was pretty certain that if this guy was going to attack her he would have already. Winter still kept her distance, sure, but she decided to return to him just what he was giving to her; venom injected in her words and a gaze that would put Medusa to shame. “I suppose you could start with why you’re beating it to death? Did it do something to you?”
Did it have to do something to him to be deserving of such a fate? Winter knew nothing about these creatures or what havoc they could cause so maybe this was all warranted and she was disrupting the intentions of the greater good. Still, it would make her feel better to know this attack was prompted for a good reason. The idea of people going around and doing such things without provocation was scarier than knowing they had a ‘why’ in mind. It made it easier for her to believe that the creatures walking amongst them needed a reason as well and therefore made it easier to walk around this place with little fear.
She didn’t run. In fact, the longer she lingered, the more Parker could recognize that her expression was shifting from fearful to… what was the word he’d use. Vindictive? Reactionary? Defensive over a perceived victim? Evidently this was her thought process as she told him to explain why he was doing what he was doing. The answer was immediately obvious. So why did Parker hesitate as long as he did to supply it? He roughly tore his gaze from her figure and glared back down at the spriggan, his face unrecognizable in the mess of torn flesh, ruined cartilage, fractured bones. An eye swollen shut. Sharp teeth missing from his bleeding gums. The Warden took a sharp breath as his blue eyes grazed his clenching and unclenching hand, feeling a pulse of pain course through it as he made it work. The pendulum was threatening to swing in the other direction. He tried not to let it and in an erratic moment, he reached up and attempted to wipe the blood from his face, unintentionally smearing it more across his cheek, into the grooves of the scar that spanned his eye socket to his jaw. The sensation was sending fire through his skin. It was hot, sticky, unbearable. Parker’s breath grew slightly more shallow, attempting to keep it even by gulping for air as he now reached into his back pocket for a stark white embroidered handkerchief. “He attacked me.” He said, his tone suddenly taking a new edge to it; it wasn’t aggressive, accusatory… it was almost tinged with fear. “A few days ago. It was…” He glanced around as though able to physically see the memory floating before him. “And I–” He fervently rubbed at the viscera that clung to his fist. Harder. Harder. “He started it.” This one came out as a growl, low, quiet. The pendulum was freely swinging now and he avoided her gaze, aggressively attempting to get the blood off his skin, not realizing that his knuckles were split from the spriggan’s teeth. “What are you?” He asked, a frantic effort to maintain some control. “I mean– Who are you? What’s… your name?”
The sight of the man smearing even more blood over his already speckled face had Winter’s stomach rolling with nausea. Even with all of her bravado, and even as she tried to muster up more strength to keep up the appearance of such bravado, she had to look away from him. He looked so much like a psychopath in that moment that wasn’t sure she would be able to stand much more of a conversation with him without truly getting sick. It wasn’t in her to tuck tail though meaning looking away was the best option to try and resolve the conflict swirling through her mind.
She could hear his breathing becoming more uneven and the noise brought forward the tinge of fear still embedded deep in her bones, but still she stood rooted to her spot. It wasn’t until she heard the movement that Winter allowed herself to look at him again, afraid that he’d grown tired of their conversation and would have her meet the same fate as the creature on the ground. He was still there though, the movement having been him attempting to get the crimson off of his face with a handkerchief. The contrast of the blood soaking into the stark white of the material didn’t mix well with the new words thrown her way as Winter noted how ironic it was that he was the one who sounded afraid this time.
Watching him though…for some reason as he started rubbing vigorously at his own skin she felt something different towards him…pity, maybe. Everyday she walked down the streets now Winter had to wonder whether or not she would have to defend herself against something wanting a meal and whether she could do such a thing. Why should he be punished or accused for being able to accomplish his own defense against someone attacking him? With tentative steps forward, the girl got closer to him than she had yet to do that night. She wouldn’t touch him in an attempt to stop his violent struggle though, that was still off the table. “I don’t think that’s helping. You might need some medical attention and I think the handkerchief is only making it worse.” She paused, wondering if there was anything in her bag that might help him get some of the blood off. Her hands went up to the strap over her shoulder slowly so as not to alarm him before she pulled it down to start searching. “I might have some nail polish remover but I don’t know if that would do anything.”
Attention was suddenly switched to her, startled by the questions that he shot at her even though they should have been expected. The real question here was if she wanted to reveal the truth to him or not. It was simple, all he wanted was her name, but would this bring her more trouble later down the line? But it wasn’t like a simple google search wouldn’t give him the answer so what was the point in keeping it from him. “Winter, my name is Winter. What’s yours?”
She stepped closer and instinctively, while Parker wanted to remain where he was in a display of dominance, he himself took a small step back though he kept his eyes on her warily. It wasn’t as though he thought she was going to suddenly turn aggressive - he already had the energy to retaliate if she wanted to get into a fight with him but from the way she avoided looking at him for a moment as he tried to get the blood off his knuckles, either his appearance or behavior was something she didn’t want to keep eye contact with. He didn’t blame her; Every time he scraped some of the fluid away, more would ooze out from his skin. He heard her say that what he was doing wasn’t helping and internally, he knew it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t helping, he knew that he was just exacerbating the bruising and the injured bones beneath the discolored flesh. A repetitive motion for him to feel something that he could control. However, as she got closer, he didn’t protest by moving any further away and, indeed, the fervent white material that was stained red now from the motions ceased in its scrubbing slowly, coming to a stop like an engine that had run out of fuel. Parker’s gaze slowly went back to the stranger, still unblinking but lacking its cold sharpness, a dulled blade in the shadow of the alley. She moved slowly and part of him wondered why. ‘It’s because you look like a crazy person right now, bro’. His brother’s voice in his head made him grit his teeth. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to look like this, act like this. It had been ten days. Ten days.
His breath got shakier, shallower. Nail polish remover ran through his head briefly before he managed to take a deep, shuddering breath as he straightened up from his defensive stance. Stop the pendulum. “Winter.” Parker repeated her name, immediately recognizing it and he decided to cling to that, use it as a grounding technique to keep himself from falling back into the futility of trying to scrape blood off his fist. “I remember you.” His expression didn’t soften, per se, but a little more of the intensity seemed to drain from him. He still felt tightly-wound but she was making an effort. Her aggression was waning and he wanted his to, as well. So long as they were ignoring the unconscious and debatably alive body behind them. “I’m… Parker.” He wondered if she remembered him, too - the girl he spoke to about ghosts, the exchange of information. And suddenly he was embarrassed. In a subtle gesture, he covered the bleeding fist with the crimson-spotted handkerchief and turned his body slightly as though trying to hide the injury from her. He didn’t dislike her when they spoke; rather, he wanted to learn about ghosts and tell her about the fae. And here Parker was, beating the shit out of one, looking the way he did, acting the way he was. ‘At least stand up straight.’ He did, pulling himself back slightly as he kept his eyes on her. “We talked online.” He alluded to their conversation, hoping she remembered him.
Even as she searched, Winter kept allowing her eyes to travel back to the man. She was already in a vulnerable state here, something she detested, and she didn’t need to make it easier on him if he suddenly switched into attack mode once more. After all, she noticed that something had switched again, though it seemed to be for the better this time. The frustration hadn’t disappeared entirely but she didn’t exactly feel like she was in danger anymore when recognition started to spark in his eyes as her name reached him. Did he know her? So many questions started to swirl through her mind but Winter refrained from asking anything. Overwhelming him was not the best idea.
Fingers grabbing onto the object she was looking for, the medium fully looked up at him once more as she pulled the bottle out of her purse only to cling on to it as he gave his name. That name that sparked images of frat boys at a particularly wild party almost elicited a sardonic laugh from her lips but she held back the sound when her eyes met his, realizing this was not the time for offhand comments. She recalled a thought that she’d had while speaking to him online, something about collecting the bodies of these creatures before he’d clarified that he liked the wings and appendages but this act of violence only proved to Winter that there was most likely a little more to it than that.
Still, it was probably best to show that she did absolutely remember him as well. A connection was better than being a total stranger, right? “I remember.” A nod of her head accompanied the words before she held out the bottle of nail polish remover, her nerve starting to return little by little.. “I have no clue if this will do anything other than burn but it’s yours if you want it.” If acetone didn’t remove blood then Winter didn’t know anything that would, at least not anything around them at the moment. “It’s worth a try though. You probably shouldn’t be walking around with…” She gestured to her own face to indicate that she was talking about his blood covered skin, the girl still having trouble looking at him because of it. It wasn’t the blood that got to her, not really. It was the fact that the spread looked intentional on some level even if she knew it hadn’t been. How completely American Psycho of him.
Winter glanced over at the body on the ground, her mind going back to the conversation they’d had online. What was it he had said? He had been…genetically produced? To hunt these things? In a way, it made her feel like she could trust him more when it came to his admission that he’d been attacked. He had said he was there to protect against fae and had denied collecting their entire bodies so this incident was starting to make more sense. “I suppose you do this often, then? This is what you were talking about when you said you protect against them?”
She remembered. Parker exhaled softly with what could’ve been related to a small semblance of relief. Granted, he preferred never to look like this in front of non-fae - he couldn’t have cared less if fae were afraid of him for how he looked at a glance, after all - but he was… dare he say it, thankful that he’d already formed something of a connection with her, if only through their brief online conversation. He didn’t get names often but it was nice for him, who was always poor with visual association when it came to things and people outside of his narrow scope of interest, to have a face to tether to the name ‘Winter’. All the more reason for him to feel guilt churning in his stomach, feeling the pendulum threatening to swing in a different direction. He was not about to cry, not again, not so soon. He exhaled again, his stare flickering from her expressive face to the bottle of nail polish remover she’d offered to him. She was correct in her idea that it wouldn’t do anything but burn, but Parker quickly understood her thought process, if her gesturing to her face to reflect his didn’t completely give it away. Leaving the bloodied handkerchief draped over his injured fist, Parker slowly extended his good hand until it reached the bottle where he very carefully took it from her, only using three blood-smeared fingers and holding it as though it were made of thin glass. He understood the strength that pulsed through him, that pulsed through every hunter especially when they were under the influence of strong emotions - which he never was until the past ten days - but while he knew he wasn’t going to shatter the plastic bottle, spraying the two of them with acetone, he wanted to make an effort to show that while the spriggan bleeding behind him was the unfortunate recipient of that emotionally-fuelled strength, he wouldn’t hurt her. He didn’t even want to touch her, not with his hands that were coated in blood from both himself and the spriggan. He didn’t want to taint the connection that they’d formed with how he looked and acted now. But it was too late for that, wasn’t it? She found him in the alley with the spriggan, that first impression burned into her mind and he wouldn’t put it past her to think about it into the future, keep her up at night when she’d done nothing to earn or deserve it. That was Parker’s nature as a boogeyman - his existence was often enough itself to send fear into the mind, let alone what people witnessed him do. She didn’t deserve that; she was reasonable, she was courageous, she was curious. A medium who said she’d never met a malevolent ghost. Was that because malevolence was restricted to the living? ‘Get out of your head, bro.’ Parker inhaled this time once he took the bottle and the same hand that held it attempted again to wipe some of the blood from his face. He’d probably end up using his shirt. “I… Actually try not to.” He replied quietly, his eyes now drifting to the ground. “It is my purpose to exterminate fae but I’m a failure to my legacy.” His expression softened; the damned pendulum was pushing closer and closer like a weight about to be dropped. “I was–” His breath caught in his throat. “No, I don’t. I try not to.” He couldn’t finish his sentence and instead settled on reiterating his response, clearing his throat, trying to keep phlegm from building up in it. “I apologize for alarming you.”
The care that he took while taking the bottle from her hands had the knots in her stomach loosening up the tiniest bit more. Where she’d thought he was going to be a loose cannon, someone who could turn at any moment, he was making sure to show a gentle side she had yet to see from him in person. That alone released the tension in her shoulders as she slowly pulled her hand back. Sudden movements still didn’t seem to be a good idea even as he took precaution to show he wasn’t going to do anything towards her. A sigh left Winter’s lips almost the same time he was inhaling, releasing even more of that fear that had coiled within herself.
The word ‘failure’ once again brought her back to their online conversation. He’d also said then that his father had considered him as such and she had to wonder briefly what that did to a person’s psyche. Winter couldn’t relate as her own father had showered her with pride and affection from the moment she was born but she could still empathize if she imagined that all of that affection was suddenly taken away. The longer this interaction went on the more compassion she found for the bloodied man standing before her. What did that say about her exactly? That she could feel bad for someone who had just beaten someone…or something, within an inch of their life?
Still, she kept it in her mind that this was self defense. He’d needed to do this in order to protect himself and the rest of the town, right? Even now, he was denying any ill will towards the fae and apologizing to her as if he knew the repercussions this was going to have on her in the long run. Winter softly shook her head, pushing the apology away. “It’s not like you intended for me to walk into this. I think my curiosity is starting to become a bad thing.” In this town, it most certainly was. She really needed to learn to let things go if she planned to stay in Wicked’s Rest or else occasions like this would become far too frequent.
“It really did attack you, right?” She had to be sure. Trusting Parker had come easy when they were speaking through a screen but the scene in front of Winter had her understandably cautious. She just wanted that little bit of confirmation that he’d not intended for this to happen. Even with him repeating the things he’d said to her before she just needed to hear it one more time before she offered the help on the tip of her tongue. “I’m not going to go see these wings of yours and find some sort of kill shelter or something?”
Parker wanted to shake his head back, to discourage the line of thought that curiosity was a bad thing; curiosity without reasoning and caution was bad, but curiosity was just that as a concept on its own. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything in response to that, though, rather feeling like if he tried to speak again so soon it’d just come out as something sad, pathetic, small. So instead his expression softened just a little more, his brow twitching ever-so-slightly as though to reflect what he was thinking when she said that. Also, notably, she didn’t say she forgave him, or even that it was his fault. But surely it was, even if it wasn’t evident at first…? Perhaps his apology was twofold - the first reason was that he was legitimately sorry that he’d created the visceral scenario that was so noisy in that alley that it spurred investigation, drove her to defend whoever was being assaulted, even if those roles had been initially reversed for Parker and the spriggan. All she had to go on was his word that the fae was the one who started the altercation, not being privy to what had transpired before she rushed into the way. The second reason was for her specifically; for her to have been there in the town at all, for her to have to see anything that she’d seen, for her to already believe her curiosity to be a detriment. That wasn’t right, he couldn’t agree with that - if it hadn’t been for his own inquisitive nature, he wasn’t sure where he’d be. He didn’t like stifling that curiosity, especially in a place like this where questions were sometimes the only things keeping one from losing themselves. It really did attack you, right? Parker swallowed the forming knot in his throat and turned to look at the body over his shoulder. It attacked him because of what he did to the other members just under two weeks ago. It attacked him because of a chain of circumstances that led to this particular interaction. Blue eyes went from staring at the fae back over to Winter where he paused before he gave her a small nod. “It attacked me first.” He affirmed, while her second question stewed in his head. Probably not a good idea to introduce her to the Workshop. The thought accompanied with the question itself sent an unpleasant sensation akin to acid frothing in his esophagus and his brow twinged into a furrow for a moment. She couldn’t know about the workshop; then she’d never believe anything he said. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve, either. ‘Get your shit together, boy. Stop lookin’ like you’re going to start crying.’ The Warden licked his lower lip, tasting the bitter copper of whoever’s blood it was that speckled his face and he blinked back tears that had subconsciously welled in his blue eyes. ‘You embarrass me.’ “You won’t.” He assured, turning his head and avoiding her gaze this time, possibly in an effort to preserve the emotions he never wanted others to see, the emotions that he couldn’t control at the moment. “The wings I have are in my house. No kill shelter.” Not in his house, anyway. “I… Promise.” Another word that was rarely said, along with the ‘you’re welcome’ that he said to the eldritch being the day before.
His hesitation did nothing to quell the doubts in her mind. Neither did the way he kept his gaze from her, as if he couldn’t look her in the eye if he was lying. The body language here said everything that Winter needed to know but there was one thing that kept that flame of hope burning. When they’d first spoken he was the one to tell Winter that making promises was not the way to go in this town, or anywhere really. He was the one that insisted that she could die if she broke a promise to a fae. He was the one who warned her to not make another promise to anyone unless she was sure she wasn’t being promise bound. She wasn’t under the impression that Parker wasn’t aware whether she was fae or not but she was under the impression that he still wouldn’t say those words unless he truly meant them.
That promise alone sent all of her defenses down and she felt herself relax fully for the first time since she’d heard that noise in the alleyway. She didn’t know this man but with everything she’d seen lately she desperately wanted to have some faith in someone. Her best friend should have been that someone but the girl had tried to eat her at the slumber party, a thought that Winter was still trying to push deep down into her mind, and even if she was deluding herself into believing Mack would never hurt her it still helped to delude herself into thinking she had someone else as back up.
Which made it so easy to accept that he wasn’t just as bad as the other monsters roaming around. Worrying her top lip, Winter placed her hands on her hips before she allowed herself to ask her next question, only hesitating for a moment when she looked at the body beside him. “How can I help?”
Never did she think she would offer to help cover up the death of another, not even if that death was a spriggan. Was it even dead in the first place? Would her offer end with more consequences if it was alive in the end? Winter was suddenly queasy again but the offer was out there and she would stand strong with it no matter the doubts that swirled through her. “It’s not your fault that it came after you. You shouldn’t be punished for it.”
It seemed like his promise, the words that Parker recalled he’d been very certain to make her aware of their importance in a place like Wicked’s Rest, were the correct ones to use. Wardens had to be just as careful as the rest of the population when it came to choosing their words carefully and though Winter didn’t know what he was, he was hoping as he said the word that she understood the weight of it. She had. Her body language eased and he used it as a sort of reflection for himself, though he still felt his mind burning with a nauseating desire to break down and have her leave him to whatever was rending his soul asunder inside. ‘Very dramatic. You should write a book.’ Parker exhaled softly, a tinge of relief on it this time though he couldn’t have been sure why and his shoulders slumped from how stiffly they were squared before. He carefully placed the bottle of nail polish remover in one of this large pouches that rested on the utility belt around his waist, still stained black in places from the blood from the leviathan and now dusted with dark crimson from this experience - he wouldn’t use it on him but he was still sentimental enough in his core to see the bottle in the future and have this memory, this experience associated with it: the time he’d gotten attacked and a stranger came to see, didn’t scream and call the authorities without hearing his side, had offered to help just now. The Warden turned away from her fully now, pulling the handkerchief off his hand. Accelerated healing had already started to work and the splits in his knuckles were coagulated with drying blood and he took one of the remaining clean corners of it and much more carefully started to wipe some of the smaller drops of blood from his face. He approached the spriggan’s body carefully before dropping into a crouch, reaching forward to check its vitals. “Good news, it’s still alive.” Parker wasn’t actually sure if it was good news but at least she hadn’t witnessed him committing a murder. Granted, fae death was different than a human or even a non-fae - when fae died, they didn’t look human like the rest of them tended to and people tended to react differently when it was a decidedly non-human-looking humanoid. “He won’t come after you.” A pause. “And if he’s smart, he won’t come after me again, either.” Parker stood back up, popping his neck as he glanced down at the concrete, the mess, the body. The teeth. Then he looked down at himself with an expression that seemed to be a little more humorously exasperated, if one could see humor in his face. “If you’ll… retrieve some water for me, I’ll deal with him.” He gave her a look with his icy blue eyes, slightly red-rimmed from the emotion that forced itself from him and it wasn’t a look of criticism or judgment, but rather acknowledgement. “I understand if you’d rather leave, though; I made this mess, I appreciate it but don’t expect your assistance.”
Watching as his body relaxed as well, Winter silently thanked the man for losing the edge he’d had before. It only further solidified in her mind that he was more calm now and wouldn’t go off the rails as he had been doing when she walked into the situation. It also wasn’t lost on her that he’d pocketed her nail polish remover without attempting to give it back, something that she was completely grateful for when she noticed the blood that had wiped off onto the plastic. Why he would keep it, she had no clue, but he could have it without any protest on her end.
His words, though, shocked her enough that she stepped away from the two bodies in front of her for the umpteenth time that night. If it was alive what did that mean for her? “How do you know that?” She did just offer to help him after she’d thought the thing was dead. Why wouldn’t it come for her if it was dumb enough to come after a person who was taught to get rid of its kind? She’d just learned a lesson though, right? She could trust Parker, he was only doing what anyone would have done and he knows about this species, knows how they operate. Another fear of Winter’s to ignore, joining the countless others she’d pushed away in the past few months. She pushed it all away once again, moving towards them to take a look at the thing that Parker had defended himself against while ignoring the slight tremble of adrenaline now rushing through her.
“Okay, ignore that. It won’t come after me if you say it won’t.” She barely believed the words herself but again, she was clinging to that delusion she loved so much. Winter looked up at him as well, noticing he was finally looking her in the eye and couldn’t help but note the slight red around his own. She ignored it though, choosing not to comment even after hearing his next words. “Water it is. I’ll be back soon.”