Welcome to Gaia! ::

He still had to follow up with Cavansite, see if she knew anything about someone using his name on rooftops of hospitals, but he also had a quota to fill.
So, he decided that he’d fill it, and then ask her when he delivered the energy to her. It was sort of like two birds one stone, plus, if he ran into anyone while he was out he could ask a few questions, now with some more ‘pointed’ encouragement. He finally had something he knew how to use well.

The stupid little knitting hooks were now a pair of small but wicked knives with a hooking tip. The tip was more or less useless unless he was trying to snap say, a rapier but having a sharp edge was reassuring.

He drained a civilian, who, even if they had a ‘vigilante’ identity, wasn’t likely to tell him if they’d been on the Hospital roof that night because of ‘secret identities’ and all that.
He settled the sleeping man onto a bench so that he’d at least be somewhat comfortable when he woke up and stepped back again to survey his surroundings and pick his next target, powered or otherwise.

“Right… as long as I don’t smell cinnamon before I’m ready, this is fine.” He assured himself.

He WAS going to find answers, and then one way or another he’d beat the hell out of whoever hurt Priam. Even with adding a possible ‘thanks for making me realize we all care’, there were some things that you just had to dirty your hands for. Priam was well worth dirty hands.

His thoughts ran back to their neighbor for a moment, suspicion but no way to prove it that he could think of short of tailing him at all hours, and he couldn’t do that -and- work. It sucked.

Maybe he’d run into those two in white again, they might have answers…

“According to some of you lot, I’m up to no good just for existing.” Parisite replied arching an eyebrow, his own hand drifted to his belt where he had his new daggers tucked.

“Just energy and I’m not leaving anyone, anywhere too cold.” He said waving a hand.

“But maybe you can tell me if you’ve heard about something happening.”

“Unless you’re planning on being like that cinnamon mother ********, I’d rather not be -shot thanks very much.” He tipped his head trying to spot arrows, not that he trusted them not to appear out of the air like his own ‘uniform’.

“If I knew his name I’d have shared it, b*****d has some kind of spray cinnamon in your face attack going which sucks WAY more than you’d think.” He shook his head. “Tried to strangle me for existing…” He shrugged.
“Almost did…” He almost managed to sound nonchalant about it, after all their side seemed to be super okay with murder, he just needed energy.

“By, Doozie, do you mean I still end up dead? Because magical or not, that’s a no thanks. I am pretty addicted to breathing.”

“What I am LOOKING for, is information on who was on the Roof of the big hospital two streets over. Someone tossed a civ off the roof and I have a few opinions about that I’d like to share.”

He tapped his knives. “I’m pretty irritated because the word on the street is they used my name. Which makes it not only absolutely s**t but personal.”

Parisite’s eyes widened and his jaw hung open for a moment before he nodded carefully.

“Yeah… that sounds right, I remember the blue.” He admitted.
“The…Civ is ok as best I know.” He hedged. “They were at least near the hospital when it happened, landed on a car. It’s not like I think we can give them the energy to help.” He made a face.
“But you don’t ******** with civilians like that in my book.”

He tipped his head squinting at the bow.

“Scary, but won’t kill you.” He arched an eyebrow. “I mean… I guess, you guys have some really odd s**t going on though.” He said carefully. “And you know the Blue haired dude, he’s okay in my book obviously.”

He cleared his throat and looked away, clearly embarrassed by what came next
“I’m Uh…..Parisite.”

Maybe if he said it REALLY quietly….

Parisite groaned at the truth of that. 
“Ok… ok…it’s just kinda s**t okay?” He sighed.

“It’s…. Parisite.” He folded his arms looking away. “I am very aware that it sounds like something you pick up traveling or by not wearing long pants in the tall grass.” He added pointedly waiting for the laugh.

He glanced back with an odd look though at the offer ‘need an out’. What was that supposed to mean? He didn’t bother to hide the confusion.

“What do you mean, need an out?” He asked blinking.
He shifted his stance slightly, an angle away from the man in purple. Offers to help out always seemed to come with strings.

He opened his mouth like he might try and argue it, and then closed it, frowning and thinking.

His boss was nice, HER boss seemed nice. Maybe this was just… what the ‘enemy’ told people, though they were also really civil. This wasn’t like -… he pushed the thought down and didn’t even try and hide the whole journey his face had to be taking.

“Uh… that would be the first I heard about people into Youma I think.” He admitted.

“And uh… I don’t feel different?” he frowned harder, remembering things that the Cinnamon b*****d had said.
Should his soul especially, but he also said incapable of love, and he loved Sterling, and he thought he did Priam too.

“I didn’t…realize people could swap either.” He admitted.

Now he just had…more questions for Cavansite. He wondered if that would get them both in trouble.

The idea that he might hurt someone he cared about though, god… Imagine if Sterling or Priam were in any of this? That would be… he couldn’t imagine it honestly. They were both too kind and perfect and sweet and…
Yeah no, there was no way.

“O…okay, but that means that both sides could be doing that too, I mean… What if I knew the b*****d with the cinnamon outside of uniform? Not saying he cares at all, trust me but…”

“Huh….” he said sounding a bit like he’d just been punched in the gut.
Corruption… wiping out people, imagining that for Sterling, or Priam… it was awful. What if they did that just for knowing he was in this uniform.

Or…death.

He swallowed hard.
It was a war, that was what he tried to tell himself but it made him feel a bit sick.

“You… you were?” He blinked, that was, that was stunning too, it made him exhale a stunned breath again, blinking rapidly. “God…I… huh…damn.” He murmured. “I mean, uh… wow.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Uh…yeah sure, I mean it’s not …lethal. I can’t really show off my…uh, knives. I mean I could but that’s uh…hmm”

He was still reeling from what he’d just learned.
“…s**t, I got recruited because they wanted my dinner,” he admitted. It was hardly on par with ‘I used to be on your side but I left’, but he hoped it might make things a little more light-hearted.


“But uh, sure, yeah.’ He gave a half-hearted grin.
“I mean if you can scare me that would be pretty impressive too, eh? I’ve seen a lot of s**t. I’m just adding magical s**t to that now.”

“********…”

It was not the most eloquent reply perhaps, but he was absolutely looking paler, the freckles standing out in bold contrast to the haunting memory of death and decay reminding him of dark spaces, trapped, the smell of mildew that he could almost taste.

“I take it back… I’m impressed.”

He sat down, not even caring what it looked like. <********.” He swore again

“… I do not think you could have said anything that would have prepared me for that.” He admitted.
“Still better than a face full of cinnamon.” He said and gave a hollow laugh.