Peter Octavian

Nicephorus woke up this morning in a very confusing place.

Fortunately, there was a note on very fine paper labeled with his name and someone else's, because Peter had gotten in the habit of keeping one on the dresser.

Your name is Nicephorus, well, yes, he knew that, but everybody here calls you Peter. That was different. The square thing here is a phone. It's a device to contact people, and it also has a calendar on it.

There were instructions on how to work the basics of that, what places might have food, and who he could trust where he was. It was all very strange, but it sounded like it would at least be an adventure!

So Nicephorus - no, Peter, right - picked up the phone, put it in his pocket, and headed out.

[Establishy, but open to the roomie or anyone to drop by if they want before he leaves.]

The cold didn't really bother Peter, and the TV had somehow turned into a fireplace, but he had belatedly realized it probably did bother some people, so he had gone around to every floor of the building, tacking up signs and hadnwavily knocking on doors to see if people needed a warm place.

He couldn't fix everybody's apartment, but he could definitely magic up warm air in his own. And light. And there were chips left over from movie nights?

Anyway, the apartment was open for guests!


[Open post as it says!]

This morning, Peter had really thrown his hands up and the towel in. He could change shape the same as always, but whenever he stopped thinking about it, it was like he defaulted to female.

So fine, island, you won. That didn't mean he wasn't going to have pizza, beer, and movie night.

It just meant he was wishing a bit more than usual that the beer did anything for him.


[Open post!]

So, Kanan was back from wherever, and had a friend with him. Since he was one of Peter's few friends on the island, another movie night sounded good. Beer and pretzels were there already, and he'd ordered a pizza.

Did they really want to watch a movie about wars, though? Surely there was something else that wasn't animated.


[OOC: Open post! Drop by, follow people there, hear the commotion, or whatever! SP for a bit, but SP is love!]

It was fairly quiet out here in the preserve; the odd animals seemed uninterested in Peter, which was fine with him. He wasn't out here to animal-watch.

It had gotten oppressive in his apartment, the walls seeming to press on him along with the memories. He still needed to do more, though. The magic was coming back to him, and he needed to remember more.

The air crackled slightly around him as he sank to his knees and took a deep breath. He cupped his hands together, channeling the excess energy into a ball, then pushing it away to dissipate in the air. He took another breath and sank back into the memories of Hell, searching for what he needed. From the outside, it might look like meditation, if you ignored the expression on his face.



[Expecting one!]

Unexpected owner of a flower shop or not, Peter still had a life to get back to in his own world. And since, as Sparkle had said, Portalocity couldn't get him home, that meant finding his own way.

Which meant magic. He knew magic, could feel it humming through him and sparking in the air around him, but the methods of using it...those were distant and fuzzy, twined with the memories of Hell. He was just as happy to let those go, but calling up one meant recalling the other.

So he sat in the middle of his still mostly empty living room and sank into a meditative trance, slowly calling up and filing away memories. There were a lot of them, and most were far from pleasant. But each one held a bit of magic, a bit of control, a bit of experience that he might need.

Occasionally one of his hands would twitch or curl into a shape, and a faint glow of one color or another would form and dissipate. Otherwise, he sat still, eyes closed, not even breathing.


[Post is open if anyone wants to knock or call! Anyone sensitive to magic might sense something going on.]

It had been...months now? A year, maybe?...since the demon lord had entered Peter, clawed his way inside and made Peter a puppet in his own flesh. Much of his memory - of the time and of before - was mercifully vague, the only saving grace of this latest torture. And now, here was Meaghan, and Will, and the Stranger, and Peter wanted to shout to them, tell them to be careful, it isn't me!

( Cut for length, but also blood and guts )