It is to his shame that such a weakness must be revealed. He had separated himself long ago from others of his kind, hell most living things until he grew twitchy with the need for companionship, and had successfully hidden his curse from all. It was his dirty little secret, shared with only a few ancient fae who had known the female to curse him. Sometimes he wonders what has happened to them. Did they still live? Did they still curse others who denied them whatever play they desired? Fickle creatures and sometimes he worried he was the same. After all, his nature was now inherently fae. He tended towards things of beauty, finding himself gravitating towards it until realization would break in and he would force himself elsewhere. It was a constant struggle to be himself but to balance the halves of him that always conflicted. Human and fae - to have known both, to have been both.

In truth he knew very little about the fae courts. All he knew were the Unseelie tended towards more fickle, violent natures at time, but he didn't necessarily believe that as truth. Even the 'good' fae tended to be cruel at times because they knew no better. They assumed things they did were acceptable and to other fae perhaps it was, but humans were a whole new complex. Archer still thought like them most of the time. His power unfurls from him in a wave, editing their view but it is false really. He could make her feel as if they were there, simulate the fire and the feel of the wood, but it was all in the mind. As soon as he lets it go they are shown that it was fake.

Desperation and pain drive him and a feral, deep hunger. The fae in him burns for blood, the curse enhancing it, and so he feels only relief and satisfaction as he sucks the blood from the squirrel. Yet as his gulps slow realization begins to dawn as it had a hundred times before. Shame, disgust, self-loathing. He pinches his eyes closed and pulls the last of the blood from the dead creature, his hands softening so that they cradle the body versus squeeze it. A hand on his back makes him jerk, teeth yanking from the squirrel to flash at Blaise, his eyes glowing. He had forgotten about her in his own rush and immediately his mouth closes and he blinks, the feel of her palm rubbing a circle in his back so foreign and comforting. Not to mention distracting. Hale and complete now Archer fights back his own desires.

He doesn't even realize that he has agreed to go with her until she is pulling him along, her hand against his and fingers wrapped around each other. Archer glances back at the discarded body, feeling reluctant to just leave it but unable to express to her why. She would think him a fool, of that he was certain. Now that his attention is brought back to her scrapes though he is more concerned for her, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "Forgive me for that." He grimaces now, wiping he back of his free hand against his lips and erasing the blood that still stains his lips. "It is not something I would have anyone see. I am sorry if I frightened you." He can't remember if he felt any sense of fright from her.

The walk is quick for they are both spry and he feels a sense of comfort for he also lives in Hawethorn Village albeit in a different part. "What about the person you were looking for?" The thought comes past his lips in surprise, turning his gaze down on her shorter figure in open curiosity. Somehow since she had seen his secret and not turned away in disgust (or leapt for joy as some crazies might), he had decided to trust her.