It was a Tuesday that peter chose to visit his aunt. No late night studies or experiments that took a toll on more than just his sleeping habits, just a day with his aunt May. Something that he hasn't had in quite some time.
Usually his week would be jammed with experiments for the affects of magic; medically and weaponry but mainly biological. A greater being, was his goal. Something that could make humanity greater in the sense that they would be able to rely on themselves more than the tools they create. Which brought great irony for how Peter wouldn't dare part with his coffee grater.
But so what? He was an alchemist, a scientist with means to give his time to the greater than himself.
Which is possibly why his aunt sent him that letter, urging him to visit and to take a break from his studies. At first he merely threw the letter along with the rest of his mail but his heart yearned to see his family again. May was more of a mother than an aunt, he missed her motherly affection and assuring words. She was the optimist that his realist mind clung to at dark times.
So when he finally did look back to the blue parchment that held his aunt's words, he wrote carefully on the back of it. By the end it stated clearly that he would be visiting later that week on Tuesday.
That, was why he drew on his red cloak and traveled through the forest to his aunt. Bearing a basket of both baked goods he strained to make and potions for her health and garden.
To say the least, the trip wasn't pleasant and it was obvious why. The forest he resided in wasn't like most as it held more spiritual qualities to it, making the flora thick with beautiful but dangerous life and the fauna odd and more lethal than the average bear. All of this was why he moved here though, for an alchemist it was like striking gold on the first try and he worked quickly to settle in the middle of the hazardous land just for the sake of it being his own garden. Given that he wasn't one to travel much it made it perfect for him to reside there and hide in his spell-marked and sigil-carved home. Nothing could penetrate his fortress without his say so. So now, to be traveling through the forest after so long made Peter nervous.
Silence was not a friend of the forest and no matter what, if it weren't the fist-sized insects buzzing by it'd be the howling of creatures in the trees and the hisses of the serpents that roamed the floor of the forest. Any onlooker such as Peter would be amazed by it all but now the forest made it clear on his place in the food-chain.
"Dammit..." He muttered, having to quickly crouch underneath the tangled vines that curled overhead. Seemingly harmless by the blue flowers that dangled from the tree, he knew better than to come too close. The pollen of the trees were potent with a toxin that'd paralyze and sedate him for the vines to carry him away. Horrifying yes, but if careful one could use the pollen and even the sap of the tree the flowers stemmed from to create a potion fit for painkillers and treating soldiers on the battlefield.
Or it's more cruel use on the black market and for some executions, if given a large dose the drug could kill someone. Peter knew where he stood on its uses and moved on, muttering curses to the plants in his way and clutching his mask tighter to assure himself of the protective seal it gave to his mouth, nose and eyes. His travel consisted of jumping, crouching, running and even moving about on his stomach like an insect on the forest floor. Every so often his troublesome travels would become hostile for every hundred steps he'd come across some sort of creature he'd have to either run from or try to scare away with what he knows of the creature. Well, that is until he comes across the sprite.
The forest was full of them and every so often he'd have to swat a few wild ones away as they bit at his heels and fingers. But when he heard the high pitched cries of the sprite before him, panicked and crying he stopped. Through the protective eye-wear embedded into his mask he watched curiously as the sprite cried out from the contraption he found it in.
It was a poacher's trap, both highly illegal and detested by true alchemists. Poachers would set traps full of sugar to lure a fairy or sprite, to then pluck their wings and let them die alone and scared. True alchemists, ones who sought out ingredients the peaceful way would get sprite wings and scales by the mean of permission if the sprite wishes to or is persuaded. Even if most were wild beings that thought with a twinge of mischief they were still recognized to hold intelligence of that of a human. Conscious and aware of both pain and death.
So for Peter, a true and proud alchemist seeing the sprite caught in the trap, hurried towards it. He only slowed his pace when he realized he frightened the sprite, who's voice grew louder at an attempt to either scare or harm his ears. Thankfully his mask protected him and made it easier to approach and disassemble the trap to free the sprite.
At first it was hesitant as it watched him back away but slowly it crept out from the trap, watching how Peter raised his hands to show no harm. Soon enough the sprite was hovering just before him, it's unusually bright black eyes watching him before whizzing away. Leaving Peter alone.
"Take care." He muttered, not bother to watch the sprite disappear as he worked to burn the poacher's trap to ash. he was unaware of the sprite's path to departure as it appeared before another man in the forest, someone who hid in the trees and had just stumbled upon Peter and the sprite. His eyes tracking the other man with shock and intrigue dancing over his scarred features.