Peter’s brain was a tricky thing. After the trauma of two malignant brain tumours, the visions which had once come to him while he was dreaming now came to him during the day as well. They could happen at any time, anywhere, and to varying degrees of intensity. While seers all experienced waking visions differently, Peter’s visions often knocked him off his feet. They were the reason he didn’t drive and had been told to take medication to lessen the seizures, though he usually didn't. To the unknowing individual, Peter Kemp appeared to have epilepsy which resulted in only tonic clonic seizures. To the people who knew about his ability, they knew his seizures brought more than just pain. They knew the reason he didn’t always take his medication. If he had the chance to have a vision and save someone, he was going to take that chance.

Yes I did just rip off the title of an Angel episode )
Peter’s brain was a tricky thing. After the trauma of two malignant brain tumours, the visions which had once come to him while he was dreaming now came to him during the day as well. They could happen at any time, anywhere, and to varying degrees of intensity. While seers all experienced waking visions differently, Peter’s visions often knocked him off his feet. They were the reason he didn’t drive and had been told to take medication to lessen the seizures, though he usually didn't. To the unknowing individual, Peter Kemp appeared to have epilepsy which resulted in only tonic clonic seizures. To the people who knew about his ability, they knew his seizures brought more than just pain. They knew the reason he didn’t always take his medication. If he had the chance to have a vision and save someone, he was going to take that chance.

Yes I did just rip off the title of an Angel episode )
Peter had shown up at Razvan's house in the afternoon in what Razvan referred to as a 'tizzy'. He had demanded the demon's help and Razvan had complied though he seemed now like he was regretting it.

Oh Dear )
Peter had shown up at Razvan's house in the afternoon in what Razvan referred to as a 'tizzy'. He had demanded the demon's help and Razvan had complied though he seemed now like he was regretting it.

Oh Dear )
Peter wanted to go home. He hated being in hospital, and he hadn't been home in a very long time. Abby had been called in to his room and when she arrived, she smiled companionably at him. "Peter, you wanted to talk to me?"

Not so jiggity-jig )
Peter wanted to go home. He hated being in hospital, and he hadn't been home in a very long time. Abby had been called in to his room and when she arrived, she smiled companionably at him. "Peter, you wanted to talk to me?"

Not so jiggity-jig )
Peter was translating an old journal Rolf had given him which Rolf stated contained veiled references to the Templar. So far Peter had found veiled references to witches in the area and how they 'brought down the tone of the village square' and something about a scandal between some farmer's wife and an earl, but so far nothing about Templar. Peter did find it at least interesting that the journal sort of read like a Facebook. But more Latiny and with more religious leanings.

Prelude to a Storm )
Peter was translating an old journal Rolf had given him which Rolf stated contained veiled references to the Templar. So far Peter had found veiled references to witches in the area and how they 'brought down the tone of the village square' and something about a scandal between some farmer's wife and an earl, but so far nothing about Templar. Peter did find it at least interesting that the journal sort of read like a Facebook. But more Latiny and with more religious leanings.

Prelude to a Storm )
Peter was in so much pain, he was almost reminded of the way he had felt in his days after his torture at the hands of the Templar. Almost. One could only spend so long jerking around and bashing into things before it took it's toll. And Peter was having visions twelve times a day; and with them came the seizures and not much else. He still had not seen where his daughter could possibly have been. There was not a clue to be found in what he saw, and even when he was shown a dark and empty room, filled with cold and horror, he didn't think for a second that that could be where Tasha was. He hadn't seen her.

He wanted to see her more than anything.

The Apology )
Peter was in so much pain, he was almost reminded of the way he had felt in his days after his torture at the hands of the Templar. Almost. One could only spend so long jerking around and bashing into things before it took it's toll. And Peter was having visions twelve times a day; and with them came the seizures and not much else. He still had not seen where his daughter could possibly have been. There was not a clue to be found in what he saw, and even when he was shown a dark and empty room, filled with cold and horror, he didn't think for a second that that could be where Tasha was. He hadn't seen her.

He wanted to see her more than anything.

The Apology )
Tasha was gone. She had disappeared right in front of Peter's eyes. It had been like...her brain exploded and then...nothing. Peter didn't know what had happened or how it had happened. He did know one thing. He had started to take pills to stop the visions from occurring during the day, and at night he had dreamed about fucking fishing. He might have stopped it. He might have seen something worthwhile, something that could help, but no. Nothing. He had kept the visions at bay and now his daughter was gone.

Nothing had ever hurt as much as this hurt. Lydia had been missing, but Peter had known she was alive somewhere. Lydia and Anna had disappeared, but they had had a plan. There was no guarantee Tasha was alive. No plan. They had nothing. So Peter stopped taking his pills with the result that he had a seizure every two hours. About nothing. About needing new tyres on his car. About a person losing their ATM card to a machine. About someone getting caught momentarily in the door of an underground train. About a woman getting her wallet taken.

Not a trace of Tasha in any of the visions. Nothing.

Peter locked himself in his room and he sat in the corner, his arms up over his head. And he waited. Waited for the next vision, in the hopes that there would be a clue.

Somewhere, there had to be a clue.
Tasha was gone. She had disappeared right in front of Peter's eyes. It had been like...her brain exploded and then...nothing. Peter didn't know what had happened or how it had happened. He did know one thing. He had started to take pills to stop the visions from occurring during the day, and at night he had dreamed about fucking fishing. He might have stopped it. He might have seen something worthwhile, something that could help, but no. Nothing. He had kept the visions at bay and now his daughter was gone.

Nothing had ever hurt as much as this hurt. Lydia had been missing, but Peter had known she was alive somewhere. Lydia and Anna had disappeared, but they had had a plan. There was no guarantee Tasha was alive. No plan. They had nothing. So Peter stopped taking his pills with the result that he had a seizure every two hours. About nothing. About needing new tyres on his car. About a person losing their ATM card to a machine. About someone getting caught momentarily in the door of an underground train. About a woman getting her wallet taken.

Not a trace of Tasha in any of the visions. Nothing.

Peter locked himself in his room and he sat in the corner, his arms up over his head. And he waited. Waited for the next vision, in the hopes that there would be a clue.

Somewhere, there had to be a clue.
The vision was pointless.

Crossed Wires )
The vision was pointless.

Crossed Wires )
Smoke coated the inside of Peter's nostrils, making breathing quite a difficult matter indeed. Smoke and ash surrounded him, obscuring his view of everything that was not within six feet of him in every direction. Ash rained down on him from above, and it coated everything that did come within his view with eerie greyness. His eyes were red and they stung, and Peter had to keep them trained on the concrete at his feet with his eyes opened no wider than tiny slits. His lungs laboured with the lack of fresh air, and everywhere around him he could hear Things in the distance. Moving. Breathing. Rumbling. Watching him.

Welcome to my Nightmare )
Smoke coated the inside of Peter's nostrils, making breathing quite a difficult matter indeed. Smoke and ash surrounded him, obscuring his view of everything that was not within six feet of him in every direction. Ash rained down on him from above, and it coated everything that did come within his view with eerie greyness. His eyes were red and they stung, and Peter had to keep them trained on the concrete at his feet with his eyes opened no wider than tiny slits. His lungs laboured with the lack of fresh air, and everywhere around him he could hear Things in the distance. Moving. Breathing. Rumbling. Watching him.

Welcome to my Nightmare )
Being back at Liz's house meant that Peter was back in the same house as Robert. It was good having him around, because after Thomas, Robert had been his male confidant for years. And while Abby had Thomas' memories now, she wasn't a guy. Not that you could say Peter or Robert were terribly guy-like either.

Booyah )
Being back at Liz's house meant that Peter was back in the same house as Robert. It was good having him around, because after Thomas, Robert had been his male confidant for years. And while Abby had Thomas' memories now, she wasn't a guy. Not that you could say Peter or Robert were terribly guy-like either.

Booyah )
Thomas Littleton was hanging, suspended from a ceiling by his wrists. He was chained so that he could touch the floor only by standing on his tip-toes. He was barechested and his skin was covered in lacerations, and he was trembling and muttering gibberish. It sounded like begging...

Visions of the Future )
Thomas Littleton was hanging, suspended from a ceiling by his wrists. He was chained so that he could touch the floor only by standing on his tip-toes. He was barechested and his skin was covered in lacerations, and he was trembling and muttering gibberish. It sounded like begging...

Visions of the Future )

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