How to get it to stop, hm. That is a good question.
"I admit, I did not get the eye trait like some Legends, though I know a few I can point you towards who may have better advice. But from my understanding, it may be simply because you are feeling some heightened emotion. If you calm yourself, steady your breathing, take a few moments to simply find your center, it may be enough to dim that glow again."
So some Legends received different traits than others? Interesting, something to note, though Peter sets aside the idle curiosity for now.
“I’ve never been that great at calm,” Peter admits, something of a sheepish smile tinging the edges of his mouth. He does try to take the advice, taking a deep breath and holding it in for a second before slowly breathing back out. It reminds him of the exercises he used to use for panic attacks, pre-bite. If May were around, she’d hold his hand as Rue was, or offer him a pillow to breathe into - to slow down the panicked gulps of air.
After a moment, he peeks open one eye - still orange, but at least a little less glowy than before. “…did it work?”
The reminder that their Peter is hardly the calmest boy they know does get a little twinkle in Rue's eye, even as they squeeze his hand in their paw encouragingly, refusing to let him go for a moment without their support.
"I know you can do it. Take some deep breaths with me-" But he is already right on it, following the exercises he knows, which Rue is happy to practice with him. And though it doesn't erase the color completely, at least the glow no longer looks quite so blinding.
"There you are! Yes, darling, that did work. I can see your beautiful eyes now. How do you feel?"
"Thanks." Peter squeezes Rue's hand in return, gently, always careful with his strength. The last thing he would want to do is hurt someone else in a moment of fleeting panic. Peter takes another deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "I'm...okay. Kind of can't - you know, turn it off."
He makes a vague gesture with his free hand towards his head, indicating the intangible. His spidey sense, weaponized anxiety - just kind of did what it wanted, but at least the vice around his chest is easing.
This sweet young man just needs to be wrapped up in a blanket and taken care of for the rest of the day. Let him live!
"I think what we could both use is a nice cup of hot cocoa. We should take the working train out to Epiphany and get out of all of this freezing cold. Does that sound alright with you, dear? And while we travel, you can tell me about your home world. I would be so happy to hear about all of it."
Honestly, that wasn't too far off a cozy winter night with May. Her cooking left something to be desired (and she had passed the curse off to Peter, the number of times he'd microwave'd macaroni and cheese and forgotten to add water...), but her hot chocolates were out of this world.
So Rue hits the nail on the head, as it were, with their suggestion, and the part of Peter that normally sets him off running in the opposite direction from attempts at comfort momentarily quiets. The reminder of May, the pang that it strikes in this strange place, is enough to still his feet.
"...I'd like that. Thank you." He nods his assent, content to follow their lead. The train, as if bidden, pricks his ear in the distance, sound leading it into the station from a little ways off. "Sure, I mean - I'll tell you anything you want to know."
For how foreign a beast they may be, Rue knows well enough how to make themself comforting and familiar to appeal to those humans and fae around them, so they aren't completely ostracized for their wild shape. And if Peter now finds any comfort in that gesture, they are all too happy to shower all of that warmth right down upon him.
He's going to be alright. He will. They just need to get out of all of this snow!
"How about you start with telling me about your friends back home? I would love to hear about any of them."
Peter's seen true beasts. True evil, brought to the surface; appealing shape or otherwise, Rue's bearing is earnest and kind. Besides, despite the anxiety that perpetually coats Peter's tongue, his spidey sense hasn't set off with them, this entire conversation. Maybe it's naïve, but Peter trusts that assessment implicitly.
"Uh..." Peter huffs a laugh, rubbing his free hand awkwardly over the back of his neck. "...I don't really...have any?"
Friends that aren't dead or in an asylum? It's definitely sad that Peter has to fish for a name, before he finally settles on: "There's a girl at the paper I work for, uh, Betty. She's nice. I bring her coffee in the morning, I guess she's - yeah. A friend."
The train pulls up, a beat later, and Peter gestures forward as the doors open with a quiet shhhk. Owl-bears first, of course.
Oops, okay, maybe that was a misstep on Rue's part. They hardly wanted to speak on sore subjects -
"Oh, you work for a paper? Whatever do you do? Do you quite enjoy it?"
Nailed it. Rue's big eyes smile down at Peter at the offer for them to go first, and with a grace that's maybe surprising given their shape and size, Rue glides onto the train and finds a seat appropriate enough for an owlbear, with an open seat across from them so they can still speak.
"Yeah, it's uh - local to New York. It's called the Daily Bugle. I'm a photographer. Freelance, mostly, but sometimes Jonah throws me a bone with an assignment."
Peter follows Rue into the train car, peering around curiously. It seems like any regular train car, save the fact that it's way cleaner than any of the subway cars Peter is used to frequenting. He folds himself into a pretzel across from Rue, knees tucked under the seat arm rests, because he never did figure out how to sit normally. "I like it. Doesn't pay that great, but it gives us a little extra cash - May and me, I mean. I've always liked photography, as a hobby."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spideyguy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
newyorknative2024-06-14 11:33 am
BLESS YOU DEAR
"I admit, I did not get the eye trait like some Legends, though I know a few I can point you towards who may have better advice. But from my understanding, it may be simply because you are feeling some heightened emotion. If you calm yourself, steady your breathing, take a few moments to simply find your center, it may be enough to dim that glow again."
no subject
“I’ve never been that great at calm,” Peter admits, something of a sheepish smile tinging the edges of his mouth. He does try to take the advice, taking a deep breath and holding it in for a second before slowly breathing back out. It reminds him of the exercises he used to use for panic attacks, pre-bite. If May were around, she’d hold his hand as Rue was, or offer him a pillow to breathe into - to slow down the panicked gulps of air.
After a moment, he peeks open one eye - still orange, but at least a little less glowy than before. “…did it work?”
no subject
"I know you can do it. Take some deep breaths with me-" But he is already right on it, following the exercises he knows, which Rue is happy to practice with him. And though it doesn't erase the color completely, at least the glow no longer looks quite so blinding.
"There you are! Yes, darling, that did work. I can see your beautiful eyes now. How do you feel?"
no subject
He makes a vague gesture with his free hand towards his head, indicating the intangible. His spidey sense, weaponized anxiety - just kind of did what it wanted, but at least the vice around his chest is easing.
no subject
"I think what we could both use is a nice cup of hot cocoa. We should take the working train out to Epiphany and get out of all of this freezing cold. Does that sound alright with you, dear? And while we travel, you can tell me about your home world. I would be so happy to hear about all of it."
no subject
So Rue hits the nail on the head, as it were, with their suggestion, and the part of Peter that normally sets him off running in the opposite direction from attempts at comfort momentarily quiets. The reminder of May, the pang that it strikes in this strange place, is enough to still his feet.
"...I'd like that. Thank you." He nods his assent, content to follow their lead. The train, as if bidden, pricks his ear in the distance, sound leading it into the station from a little ways off. "Sure, I mean - I'll tell you anything you want to know."
no subject
He's going to be alright. He will. They just need to get out of all of this snow!
"How about you start with telling me about your friends back home? I would love to hear about any of them."
no subject
"Uh..." Peter huffs a laugh, rubbing his free hand awkwardly over the back of his neck. "...I don't really...have any?"
Friends that aren't dead or in an asylum? It's definitely sad that Peter has to fish for a name, before he finally settles on: "There's a girl at the paper I work for, uh, Betty. She's nice. I bring her coffee in the morning, I guess she's - yeah. A friend."
The train pulls up, a beat later, and Peter gestures forward as the doors open with a quiet shhhk. Owl-bears first, of course.
no subject
"Oh, you work for a paper? Whatever do you do? Do you quite enjoy it?"
Nailed it. Rue's big eyes smile down at Peter at the offer for them to go first, and with a grace that's maybe surprising given their shape and size, Rue glides onto the train and finds a seat appropriate enough for an owlbear, with an open seat across from them so they can still speak.
no subject
Peter follows Rue into the train car, peering around curiously. It seems like any regular train car, save the fact that it's way cleaner than any of the subway cars Peter is used to frequenting. He folds himself into a pretzel across from Rue, knees tucked under the seat arm rests, because he never did figure out how to sit normally. "I like it. Doesn't pay that great, but it gives us a little extra cash - May and me, I mean. I've always liked photography, as a hobby."