"I'm sorry," Parry said, finally breaking down when Rikive took his hand. "I keep fucking up. I'm not... I'm impossible. I'm not pulling my weight. Getting in everyone else's way. I'm just-"

'Over a barrel' wasn't the most pleasant phrase, but it was exactly how Parry felt right now. He'd tried some freaky shit in the past 500 years (and an awful lot in the last 500 days) but it was always consensual and fun. Right now he could only wait and hope that whoever had his sword wasn't sure what it could do or how they might use it. Truthfully, the blade was just a blade in any mortal's hands. Dangerous and impossibly sharp for something that looked like it'd been dug up in an archaeological dig. Still deadly.

Any hope of that happening, of someone being completely unaware of what they held ran out the window and into another zip code as he felt that dark touch at his core retract, just like it had when passed between the two dark forces, but quickly exploded outward into his veins, up his muscles, down to the tips of his toes and the length of his hair.

Not an attack spell or a curse. 

[i]A probe.[/i]

Whoever had his sword was sweeping through him and would know for a fact what he was. Where he was? Probably not. Magic was powerful but it didn't hold a candle to GPS. Still, Parry forced himself to shut his eyes in case whoever was "scanning" him could see through him.

"Riki, I need you to go," he all but yelled. "I need you to leave. I want you to stay- I do- but if you want to be safe, you need to go now!"

Any wards Parry might put on himself were useless so long as Nemsemet had the Dawn Blade. He was over a barrel. 

And the enemy had an open door to him.