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the arms of the ocean are carrying me
the arms of the ocean delivered me
[ text | voice | omen | action ]
the arms of the ocean are carrying me
the arms of the ocean delivered me
[ text | voice | omen | action ]
Well, birthdays are important too, though! And twenty's a big one - we definitely have to celebrate. So yeah, as soon as this stuff is all over, let's do a dinner for all of us. We've got fresh milk and eggs too - I might even be able to make a cake or something. Besides, it'd be great to be able to have you guys over!
[Tara hasn't been here long at all, and her introduction to Trench has not been terribly gentle. It seems like things just keep getting worse. It feels important to keep trying to draw her into the things here Willow genuinely likes about the city, like the connections she's made with the other Sleepers.]
I don't think under any circumstances it'd be an easy transition for her. I mean, she got here in November, when things were really bad, and there's been pretty much always something going on ever since. Maul's just one more.
And of course he wants anything to do with anything that has any sort of power at all. I guess we probably shouldn't be surprised he's taken an interest in Peter's demon. God, he's such a creep. It doesn't surprise me at all that you telling Maul no is what started your fight with him. He makes me so angry sometimes. He's got no sense of boundaries, or decency at all. It's just all about what he wants, and screw everyone else.
[Tara hasn't been here long at all, and her introduction to Trench has not been terribly gentle. It seems like things just keep getting worse. It feels important to keep trying to draw her into the things here Willow genuinely likes about the city, like the connections she's made with the other Sleepers.]
I don't think under any circumstances it'd be an easy transition for her. I mean, she got here in November, when things were really bad, and there's been pretty much always something going on ever since. Maul's just one more.
And of course he wants anything to do with anything that has any sort of power at all. I guess we probably shouldn't be surprised he's taken an interest in Peter's demon. God, he's such a creep. It doesn't surprise me at all that you telling Maul no is what started your fight with him. He makes me so angry sometimes. He's got no sense of boundaries, or decency at all. It's just all about what he wants, and screw everyone else.
( 'I know you've been very sorry about what happened.'
She knows. He doesn't even have to say it — and, usually, would be struggling very hard to say any of this. Right now, with this clear mind and state, he's able to convey it very well, but... she already knows. And again, it clarifies his degree of trust with and from his witch. Paimon is somber, quietly awed by all of it. His bond with her has become something so precious in new forms. Initially, it was precious in a practical way — she tethered herself to him for Peter's sake, and Paimon wanted her tethered because she was a witch, something very important to his existence.
But over time.... yes, he has formed a different sort of bond with the girl. He enjoys her. As someone to learn from and someone to care for him, but also as someone to spend time with. He enjoys her company, her energy; he's at ease when she's nearby, and misses her when she isn't. He wants to please her, not only for those practical reasons — give and take, exchange — but also because he truly does care about Luna. Perhaps this is part of how he's meant to be with his most intimate summoners. It's a businesslike thing, but it's also something deeper, spiritual. He's meant to take care of her as much in return.
And their relationship has been made even deeper due to his existence within Peter. Because of that, Paimon's able to live in the same household as Luna, to be a part of her daily existence, to touch and be touched by her in a corporeal way. If he wasn't trapped in a vessel, he wouldn't be able to do those things. But he is, and he... likes it. He wants to stay, as unnatural as that concept might be to what he truly is. But he feels.... happy here, with her. He's glad he's able to tell her that he wants to stay with her for always.
Maul is certainly a complicated matter, and he's continuing to listen about that, giving severe nods to show he understands. 'You are allowed to walk away'; hearing it stated so explicitly makes him think deeply about it. It's true that he's relied on Maul as a sort of Master, despite knowing that he isn't. But he'd filled in a certain empty place for Paimon, a certain longing for Lucifer, and perhaps there was a part of the lost demon king who was leaning on that too much, so easily wanting to please him and listen to him. But for all that he could teach and guide him, Maul is not his Master, and he is not a witch or conjurer. He is... a comrade. A companion — something that might even be called a "friend". Paimon could choose to walk away; he does not have to obey Maul.
He still grapples with what it means to be able to choose something. With... how to do it. There isn't much that Paimon's really chosen for himself, though this place has allowed him to begin toeing into that concept. He's able to go visit people he wishes to see, he was able to even choose an employment for himself..........
So it's happening, slowly, but it's still... rather foreign for him. Even working at the Mage's Bakery was the result of wanting to please and assist Lysithea, as well as Luna with her sweet tooth. The things he's chosen have still been meant to please and even serve others.
'I do promise I'll always do my best for you. To always try to give you purpose and help you in whatever way I can. You deserve to be treated with respect and kindness.'
Paimon sits there in his wide-eyed quiet, reeling in all of it, that warmed, strangely shy feeling simply growing at her words, feeling the sheer weight of them; his eyes spark with that shimmering sort of glow he often looks to Luna with. Always. They've both used the word always, and he feels the Bond he shares with her in his spirit, something lasting and powerful and safe.
Sometimes, there's a thought. A quiet ghost within him, some phantom whisper brushing like delicate filigree carved into his spirit — Who's gonna take care of me?
The thought never lasts long, because now he knows who will.
The demon looks up to Luna as she touches his ear and clarifies what he'd been thinking; the same thing happens to Peter. That it's a bodily reaction, something that happens to this body, and he knows he has made it happen because he is locked into this body right now.
But— )
I said 'my body', but... that is false. It is not my body. It is only my home. ( He knows that the correct terms are important to use, especially around Luna, and for a moment, he forgot himself with them; he almost seems apologetic towards her for it. Sometimes, it's too easy to get wrapped up in Peter, the warmth of him, his human skin. How it feels to be a human, and to touch and be touched. But the touch does not belong to him. He experiences it through his vessel.
And normally, he'd leave it at that — pure fact, not adding his own opinions or feelings to it. But now....? The demon's mouth opens again, and his words have a a clear melancholy as he looks down to his lap, fingers moving to brush against the material of Peter's lounge pants, soft and comfortable but not his. Nothing of Peter's wardrobe is his. He wears his host's clothes like a guest; always borrowed. )
I do not have a body. The ears buzzing... the clothing.... it is not mine.
( He's come to enjoy what being in a host allows him to do, but there are still parts to the demon that understands what's lacking, and sometimes.... it does make him melancholy. Perhaps he's only recently really able to see that, and perhaps now, freed of certain mental constraints and able to express himself better, it's able to come out the way it does. )
She knows. He doesn't even have to say it — and, usually, would be struggling very hard to say any of this. Right now, with this clear mind and state, he's able to convey it very well, but... she already knows. And again, it clarifies his degree of trust with and from his witch. Paimon is somber, quietly awed by all of it. His bond with her has become something so precious in new forms. Initially, it was precious in a practical way — she tethered herself to him for Peter's sake, and Paimon wanted her tethered because she was a witch, something very important to his existence.
But over time.... yes, he has formed a different sort of bond with the girl. He enjoys her. As someone to learn from and someone to care for him, but also as someone to spend time with. He enjoys her company, her energy; he's at ease when she's nearby, and misses her when she isn't. He wants to please her, not only for those practical reasons — give and take, exchange — but also because he truly does care about Luna. Perhaps this is part of how he's meant to be with his most intimate summoners. It's a businesslike thing, but it's also something deeper, spiritual. He's meant to take care of her as much in return.
And their relationship has been made even deeper due to his existence within Peter. Because of that, Paimon's able to live in the same household as Luna, to be a part of her daily existence, to touch and be touched by her in a corporeal way. If he wasn't trapped in a vessel, he wouldn't be able to do those things. But he is, and he... likes it. He wants to stay, as unnatural as that concept might be to what he truly is. But he feels.... happy here, with her. He's glad he's able to tell her that he wants to stay with her for always.
Maul is certainly a complicated matter, and he's continuing to listen about that, giving severe nods to show he understands. 'You are allowed to walk away'; hearing it stated so explicitly makes him think deeply about it. It's true that he's relied on Maul as a sort of Master, despite knowing that he isn't. But he'd filled in a certain empty place for Paimon, a certain longing for Lucifer, and perhaps there was a part of the lost demon king who was leaning on that too much, so easily wanting to please him and listen to him. But for all that he could teach and guide him, Maul is not his Master, and he is not a witch or conjurer. He is... a comrade. A companion — something that might even be called a "friend". Paimon could choose to walk away; he does not have to obey Maul.
He still grapples with what it means to be able to choose something. With... how to do it. There isn't much that Paimon's really chosen for himself, though this place has allowed him to begin toeing into that concept. He's able to go visit people he wishes to see, he was able to even choose an employment for himself..........
So it's happening, slowly, but it's still... rather foreign for him. Even working at the Mage's Bakery was the result of wanting to please and assist Lysithea, as well as Luna with her sweet tooth. The things he's chosen have still been meant to please and even serve others.
'I do promise I'll always do my best for you. To always try to give you purpose and help you in whatever way I can. You deserve to be treated with respect and kindness.'
Paimon sits there in his wide-eyed quiet, reeling in all of it, that warmed, strangely shy feeling simply growing at her words, feeling the sheer weight of them; his eyes spark with that shimmering sort of glow he often looks to Luna with. Always. They've both used the word always, and he feels the Bond he shares with her in his spirit, something lasting and powerful and safe.
Sometimes, there's a thought. A quiet ghost within him, some phantom whisper brushing like delicate filigree carved into his spirit — Who's gonna take care of me?
The thought never lasts long, because now he knows who will.
The demon looks up to Luna as she touches his ear and clarifies what he'd been thinking; the same thing happens to Peter. That it's a bodily reaction, something that happens to this body, and he knows he has made it happen because he is locked into this body right now.
But— )
I said 'my body', but... that is false. It is not my body. It is only my home. ( He knows that the correct terms are important to use, especially around Luna, and for a moment, he forgot himself with them; he almost seems apologetic towards her for it. Sometimes, it's too easy to get wrapped up in Peter, the warmth of him, his human skin. How it feels to be a human, and to touch and be touched. But the touch does not belong to him. He experiences it through his vessel.
And normally, he'd leave it at that — pure fact, not adding his own opinions or feelings to it. But now....? The demon's mouth opens again, and his words have a a clear melancholy as he looks down to his lap, fingers moving to brush against the material of Peter's lounge pants, soft and comfortable but not his. Nothing of Peter's wardrobe is his. He wears his host's clothes like a guest; always borrowed. )
I do not have a body. The ears buzzing... the clothing.... it is not mine.
( He's come to enjoy what being in a host allows him to do, but there are still parts to the demon that understands what's lacking, and sometimes.... it does make him melancholy. Perhaps he's only recently really able to see that, and perhaps now, freed of certain mental constraints and able to express himself better, it's able to come out the way it does. )
Edited 2022-03-13 19:14 (UTC)
I am. [She smiled, almost with a giggle of sorts, as Luna immediately clued in. But she allowed her crystal to disappear, her crescent moon slowly fading away until it was only a memory.
She watched Luna pull out her wand and begin to do all sorts of spells. She didn't understand any of the words or what they meant but it was beautiful to watch as spell after spell wrapped around the house. She was grateful to know Luna, she was certainly improving Usagi's experience with witches from home, to be sure.
She can feel Luna's magic as much as she can feel her own. And considering Maul's Force abilities, if he happened on Luna's home, he may very well sense her light and what that meant.
Then again, Maul could be an idiot.
Usagi clasped her hands behind her back and watched as more and more spell work was done, wondering what everything would do if someone, anyone, tried to attack Luna now.]
She watched Luna pull out her wand and begin to do all sorts of spells. She didn't understand any of the words or what they meant but it was beautiful to watch as spell after spell wrapped around the house. She was grateful to know Luna, she was certainly improving Usagi's experience with witches from home, to be sure.
She can feel Luna's magic as much as she can feel her own. And considering Maul's Force abilities, if he happened on Luna's home, he may very well sense her light and what that meant.
Then again, Maul could be an idiot.
Usagi clasped her hands behind her back and watched as more and more spell work was done, wondering what everything would do if someone, anyone, tried to attack Luna now.]
Oh, don't worry about a cake. Peter's demon made me one, and it's actually very good! [ Paimon was excellent in ensuring she had a nice birthday cake for her birthday. It was actually... perfect, on a technical level. Luna was very impressed. ] I've been keeping it magically, so it lasts. Maybe I can bring some slices with me for dessert. :)
[ Paimon has been... very insistent that the cake is only for her. But she can't eat a whole cake herself, thus the need to store is magically. Surely he wouldn't protest Luna sharing it with other witches. ]
Oh, no. At least in Deerington we would have some less awful months. But it doesn't really feel like it's been a simple ride here in Trench, really. Other than January, I suppose.
I suppose when Glitch told me what he motives were in general, it made a lot of sense as to why he was trying to be friendly with the demon — and also try to get rid of Peter. Even when the demon did tell Maul to back down after he refused to listen to me, Maul continued to be horrible to Peter because when Peter's afraid, he's not as strong. [ Meaning Paimon's around more, and Luna's worked so hard just to keep Peter mentally present. Especially when she's been warned by Paimon that Peter might disappear completely one day. ]
Exactly that. I warned him not to interfere with my bond with the demon because that's something you just don't mess around with. At all. But he took it as an insult and decided he'd just do what he wants.
I just... really dislike him.
[ Paimon has been... very insistent that the cake is only for her. But she can't eat a whole cake herself, thus the need to store is magically. Surely he wouldn't protest Luna sharing it with other witches. ]
Oh, no. At least in Deerington we would have some less awful months. But it doesn't really feel like it's been a simple ride here in Trench, really. Other than January, I suppose.
I suppose when Glitch told me what he motives were in general, it made a lot of sense as to why he was trying to be friendly with the demon — and also try to get rid of Peter. Even when the demon did tell Maul to back down after he refused to listen to me, Maul continued to be horrible to Peter because when Peter's afraid, he's not as strong. [ Meaning Paimon's around more, and Luna's worked so hard just to keep Peter mentally present. Especially when she's been warned by Paimon that Peter might disappear completely one day. ]
Exactly that. I warned him not to interfere with my bond with the demon because that's something you just don't mess around with. At all. But he took it as an insult and decided he'd just do what he wants.
I just... really dislike him.
Edited (i can html real good) 2022-03-18 16:25 (UTC)
Ah, [comes a noise of acknowledgement so quiet it'd be hard to tell Illarion had voiced it, but for the puff of cloudy breath with the sound.] Then it is so, I have woken you. My apologies; I did not mean this.
[He opens an eye, tipping his head to regard her--bleary and lopsided--through his veil. To be greeted as it's you has put a hint of a smile on his face, the barest up-curling of one corner of his mouth. It's very sweet in its way, incongruous with the whole situation and the gently slumbering god at their backs.]
I am not, as it happens, "all right." [Consciousness is taking active effort; so would lying and pretending he's better off than he is, whatever his instinct to hide the injury.] Though I am mending. What is not, [he takes an unsteady breath,] killing us Sleepers outright, we heal from, yes?
[To say nothing of the Lake's help, and Moon Presence's gentle aura. That latter was not renowned for healing, but it is making him feel safer--more able to take this moment to rest.
It is, in a small way, very tempting indeed to lay his head back against the Pthumerian and fall asleep as a way to avoid Luna's other question.
He does not do that, though he is several seconds in getting to it--now that he's (he thinks) reassured her his case isn't critical.] As for this, [he gestures toward the smear of blood at his throat,] I am attacked by a monster. I am letting its fangs get too close to my neck, yes?
[Which glosses over entirely what sort of monster it was, and why he'd made such a mistake in the first place. Perhaps it will be enough.]
[He opens an eye, tipping his head to regard her--bleary and lopsided--through his veil. To be greeted as it's you has put a hint of a smile on his face, the barest up-curling of one corner of his mouth. It's very sweet in its way, incongruous with the whole situation and the gently slumbering god at their backs.]
I am not, as it happens, "all right." [Consciousness is taking active effort; so would lying and pretending he's better off than he is, whatever his instinct to hide the injury.] Though I am mending. What is not, [he takes an unsteady breath,] killing us Sleepers outright, we heal from, yes?
[To say nothing of the Lake's help, and Moon Presence's gentle aura. That latter was not renowned for healing, but it is making him feel safer--more able to take this moment to rest.
It is, in a small way, very tempting indeed to lay his head back against the Pthumerian and fall asleep as a way to avoid Luna's other question.
He does not do that, though he is several seconds in getting to it--now that he's (he thinks) reassured her his case isn't critical.] As for this, [he gestures toward the smear of blood at his throat,] I am attacked by a monster. I am letting its fangs get too close to my neck, yes?
[Which glosses over entirely what sort of monster it was, and why he'd made such a mistake in the first place. Perhaps it will be enough.]
That sounds great too! We'll make plans as soon as all this stuff with Maul is settled.
Yeah, January as far as the Trench went didn't seem so bad. Lots of weirdness with people changing and stuff. We kind of had our own problems at home, though. It all stemmed from what happened with the blood zealots, though, in November. It sounds like they come around every year too. We'll have to be ready for them next time.
Ugh, of course Maul's going after Peter because of his demon. He's made it pretty clear he doesn't really care about anything unless it benefits him. It amazes me he has as many friends as he does sometimes. How do people stand by someone who does this stuff?
Yeah, January as far as the Trench went didn't seem so bad. Lots of weirdness with people changing and stuff. We kind of had our own problems at home, though. It all stemmed from what happened with the blood zealots, though, in November. It sounds like they come around every year too. We'll have to be ready for them next time.
Ugh, of course Maul's going after Peter because of his demon. He's made it pretty clear he doesn't really care about anything unless it benefits him. It amazes me he has as many friends as he does sometimes. How do people stand by someone who does this stuff?
[ Usagi is the moon. Luna wonders if it means there's others, more than just Usagi and Rei. Makoto too, maybe. The idea is not... completely foreign to her; her friend Clarisse is the daughter of Ares, after all. But she's never experienced this before, not been given the power of the moon's magic — letting her borrow it to compliment her own. It's no wonder Usagi wouldn't speak of this usually.
The protective enchantments finish falling into place, the blue-white shimmering for a moment before disappearing to the naked eye. They're still there, perhaps a light iridescent haze can be seen by those who sense magic — but otherwise no longer visually obvious. Luna smiles a little, pleased with herself. ]
This kind of magic is usually only done by the most accomplished of witches or wizards. [ Powerful stuff; Luna might be capable, but she's certainly not like some of her teachers, or older magic users. She still has a lot to learn and practice. ]
I feel like I can do a great deal of good with this. Do some extra things around the house, replenish my potions stocks. Thank you, Usagi. [ Protecting her home is one thing, but if she has the power of the moon for a whole twenty four hours? She really could do all sorts. It's not like she's going to be doing much sleeping anyway. ]
My mum used to sing to the moon, when she was expecting me. Even as lullaby, too. [ There's another little smile there, quietly sombre. ] She always believed it would protect. I'm sure she'd be very happy to know I've used the moon's magic to protect my home.
The protective enchantments finish falling into place, the blue-white shimmering for a moment before disappearing to the naked eye. They're still there, perhaps a light iridescent haze can be seen by those who sense magic — but otherwise no longer visually obvious. Luna smiles a little, pleased with herself. ]
This kind of magic is usually only done by the most accomplished of witches or wizards. [ Powerful stuff; Luna might be capable, but she's certainly not like some of her teachers, or older magic users. She still has a lot to learn and practice. ]
I feel like I can do a great deal of good with this. Do some extra things around the house, replenish my potions stocks. Thank you, Usagi. [ Protecting her home is one thing, but if she has the power of the moon for a whole twenty four hours? She really could do all sorts. It's not like she's going to be doing much sleeping anyway. ]
My mum used to sing to the moon, when she was expecting me. Even as lullaby, too. [ There's another little smile there, quietly sombre. ] She always believed it would protect. I'm sure she'd be very happy to know I've used the moon's magic to protect my home.
It's alright. I've come to not sleep too deeply sometimes. [ There's certainly times when she is safe and comfortable enough to sleep properly; at least when she's within her own home she's alright enough. But there's been instances there when she's been robbed of that safety. So even with the safety of Moon Presence: ] I know she would keep me safe, but— unfortunate past experiences.
[ She sees the smile, even as slight as it is. And while he says nothing else about the whole thing of being addressed, Luna's bold enough to pipe up about it. There's something close to apology in her tone, though. It feels a little impolite on her part to have not asked him before now: ]
I realise I'm afraid I've never learned your name.
[ Luna listens quietly, concern shifting into her expression for a long moment. Not alright, but on the right way with going about healing from it — her eyes drifting to the lake a moment. ]
You've gone to the water. [ A statement, not a question. Considering the watery-state of the stain. She'd done the same, the first time she came here and found Moon Presence slumbering. Washed her hands to find the cuts carved deep into her hands by Paimon healed up, even if marks remain. ]
Monsters can sometimes tend to do that, yes. [ She offers it quietly with a nod. She turns her head to look about them. It's calm and quiet beyond the soft surroundings of the snowy lake. ] Does it... need to be dealt with—?
[ However so is left open to interpretation; Luna prefers much to not kill monsters unless she has to. She's no Hunter, even if she's capable. If there's a way to help a beast first, she'd much rather take that option. ]
[ She sees the smile, even as slight as it is. And while he says nothing else about the whole thing of being addressed, Luna's bold enough to pipe up about it. There's something close to apology in her tone, though. It feels a little impolite on her part to have not asked him before now: ]
I realise I'm afraid I've never learned your name.
[ Luna listens quietly, concern shifting into her expression for a long moment. Not alright, but on the right way with going about healing from it — her eyes drifting to the lake a moment. ]
You've gone to the water. [ A statement, not a question. Considering the watery-state of the stain. She'd done the same, the first time she came here and found Moon Presence slumbering. Washed her hands to find the cuts carved deep into her hands by Paimon healed up, even if marks remain. ]
Monsters can sometimes tend to do that, yes. [ She offers it quietly with a nod. She turns her head to look about them. It's calm and quiet beyond the soft surroundings of the snowy lake. ] Does it... need to be dealt with—?
[ However so is left open to interpretation; Luna prefers much to not kill monsters unless she has to. She's no Hunter, even if she's capable. If there's a way to help a beast first, she'd much rather take that option. ]
[If Luna asked, Usagi would be happy to delight her with tales of the others: of Jupiter, Goddess of Protection, Lightning, Thunder, and Plants, of Mercury, Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge, and all matters of Water, of Venus, Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Metal. She would tell her about Neptune and Uranus, Goddesses of the Sea and Sky, of Pluto, Goddess of Time, and Saturn, Goddess of Death. All of them are wholly magnificent and awesome.
But if Luna does not ask, Usagi will not tell, and even if she does, she will not reveal their other names, that is not her place to do so.
At the mention of being able to do all sorts of things, she grinned and pushed some of her hair back.]
You're welcome, I'm just glad I could help, honestly.
[She leaned forward, smiling.] Luna, should you need it, you will always have the moon's protection. I cannot speak for the moon here, but I can certainly speak for mine.
But if Luna does not ask, Usagi will not tell, and even if she does, she will not reveal their other names, that is not her place to do so.
At the mention of being able to do all sorts of things, she grinned and pushed some of her hair back.]
You're welcome, I'm just glad I could help, honestly.
[She leaned forward, smiling.] Luna, should you need it, you will always have the moon's protection. I cannot speak for the moon here, but I can certainly speak for mine.
( A new month has begun. This one is an endless night, the moon perpetually full, casting an eerie green haze across the city — a fog that seems as though it, too, will never end.
There's a growing uneasiness with that unending night. Perhaps they all feel it, especially those who remember what such things meant back in Deerington. The feeling of dread is almost palpable.
And even within the warm comfort of the townhouse, security seems short-lived. It's Paimon who's taking a certain type of charge, these days. Both he and Peter are terrified by the thought of falling to deep Corruption again. The demon will do whatever it takes to avoid that, and so he's begun to manipulate Peter in little ways, reaching inwards to place certain filters over his eyes, his mind. He helps his vessel to see things, feel things, that aren't truly there. Gives him a little bit of sunshine here and there, a hallucination right outside the window. Gives him good dreams, peaceful things, spinning them across Peter's mind like a spider web. It helps.... but it's costing energy from the boy who still has a long way to go when it comes to being able to handle the demon's power within him, the toll it wears on him physically.
But some of Paimon's energy is reserved for Luna, too. Because the witch's Corruption hasn't..... abated, and Paimon's not quite able to combat it within her the way he can so directly combat it within Peter. There are ways to try — and he has been, but so gently, so carefully. He won't hurt her the way he once had, when he'd accidentally seared himself into her mind with his too-bright presence.
No, it's.... small doses of mental visits: not invasive, but soft. It comes when she's sleeping, when Peter's lying in bed next to her, and the demon can feel his witch's mind, that connection made ever-stronger thanks to the direct mental link his vessel now shares with her. The demon has been visiting her off and on for a few weeks now, to so gently manipulate things to be gentler, sweeter for her. She's suffered greatly, these months. The stress from Maul, from Willow's death, from March's events... Her physical Corruption's persisted even when Peter's melted away: her eyes still shimmering iridescent, the pair of little antlers still poking out of her head.
Paimon's very worried about her. And so, he drapes warmth into Luna's dreams, coating the darker parts with his presence. He gives her colours she likes — pastels, sparkling, soft and calm. He gives her the smell of sweet things cooking, warm summer rain falling outside, cocoa on a crisp autumn day, and glitter upon her fingertips. Sometimes, he gives her little snippets of memory: a schoolday back in Deerington, eating lunch with Diarmuid and Louis; a photobooth shared with Peter, both smiling and shy; Luna's cosy kitchen back home, with the tall, slender figure of her father there beside her, smiling.
— — —
It's hard to make sense of time when it's forever dark, but "bedtime" still has its place. Peter's almost exclusively sleeping with Luna these days, and it's where the boy is now: facing her and tucked in close, breathing quietly. It's comfortable, peaceful, and still.
And then Luna whimpers.
It's such a soft sound, barely audible at all. Peter certainly doesn't hear it, even as close to her as his head is tilted, a blonde curl brushing against his cheek. But Paimon hears it — or rather feels her distress, and the demon stirs at once. Unravels from his own stillness within Peter, the boy's eyelids fluttering softly before they peel open. For a long moment he just stares widely in the darkness of the room, pupils slowly expanding, and then Luna twitches slightly in her sleep. It's an equally subtle thing as the little whimper, but the demon catches it immediately. He knows what she looks like in the middle of a nightmare, very well by now.
Lying very still, his dark eyes move to catch sight of a frown of upset touching the girl's lips, and immediately he's mentally coming to her, utilising the powerful mental strand that connects her and Peter, but he's had his own connection with Luna for a very long time, now. He knows the shape of her energy, the feeling of it, as well as he knows his own. Gently and silently, Paimon eases inwards; he's experimented with it over time. It isn't always possible when they're both awake, but he knows how to connect to Luna in a dreamstate mentally without disturbing or distressing her. Knows how to quiet his own buzzing presence in little doses, so that he can give something warm to her in her dreams, and over time, he's been able to do it more and more. He knows that this is something he's meant to do.
He'll find what's hurting her, and he'll make it go away. )
There's a growing uneasiness with that unending night. Perhaps they all feel it, especially those who remember what such things meant back in Deerington. The feeling of dread is almost palpable.
And even within the warm comfort of the townhouse, security seems short-lived. It's Paimon who's taking a certain type of charge, these days. Both he and Peter are terrified by the thought of falling to deep Corruption again. The demon will do whatever it takes to avoid that, and so he's begun to manipulate Peter in little ways, reaching inwards to place certain filters over his eyes, his mind. He helps his vessel to see things, feel things, that aren't truly there. Gives him a little bit of sunshine here and there, a hallucination right outside the window. Gives him good dreams, peaceful things, spinning them across Peter's mind like a spider web. It helps.... but it's costing energy from the boy who still has a long way to go when it comes to being able to handle the demon's power within him, the toll it wears on him physically.
But some of Paimon's energy is reserved for Luna, too. Because the witch's Corruption hasn't..... abated, and Paimon's not quite able to combat it within her the way he can so directly combat it within Peter. There are ways to try — and he has been, but so gently, so carefully. He won't hurt her the way he once had, when he'd accidentally seared himself into her mind with his too-bright presence.
No, it's.... small doses of mental visits: not invasive, but soft. It comes when she's sleeping, when Peter's lying in bed next to her, and the demon can feel his witch's mind, that connection made ever-stronger thanks to the direct mental link his vessel now shares with her. The demon has been visiting her off and on for a few weeks now, to so gently manipulate things to be gentler, sweeter for her. She's suffered greatly, these months. The stress from Maul, from Willow's death, from March's events... Her physical Corruption's persisted even when Peter's melted away: her eyes still shimmering iridescent, the pair of little antlers still poking out of her head.
Paimon's very worried about her. And so, he drapes warmth into Luna's dreams, coating the darker parts with his presence. He gives her colours she likes — pastels, sparkling, soft and calm. He gives her the smell of sweet things cooking, warm summer rain falling outside, cocoa on a crisp autumn day, and glitter upon her fingertips. Sometimes, he gives her little snippets of memory: a schoolday back in Deerington, eating lunch with Diarmuid and Louis; a photobooth shared with Peter, both smiling and shy; Luna's cosy kitchen back home, with the tall, slender figure of her father there beside her, smiling.
— — —
It's hard to make sense of time when it's forever dark, but "bedtime" still has its place. Peter's almost exclusively sleeping with Luna these days, and it's where the boy is now: facing her and tucked in close, breathing quietly. It's comfortable, peaceful, and still.
And then Luna whimpers.
It's such a soft sound, barely audible at all. Peter certainly doesn't hear it, even as close to her as his head is tilted, a blonde curl brushing against his cheek. But Paimon hears it — or rather feels her distress, and the demon stirs at once. Unravels from his own stillness within Peter, the boy's eyelids fluttering softly before they peel open. For a long moment he just stares widely in the darkness of the room, pupils slowly expanding, and then Luna twitches slightly in her sleep. It's an equally subtle thing as the little whimper, but the demon catches it immediately. He knows what she looks like in the middle of a nightmare, very well by now.
Lying very still, his dark eyes move to catch sight of a frown of upset touching the girl's lips, and immediately he's mentally coming to her, utilising the powerful mental strand that connects her and Peter, but he's had his own connection with Luna for a very long time, now. He knows the shape of her energy, the feeling of it, as well as he knows his own. Gently and silently, Paimon eases inwards; he's experimented with it over time. It isn't always possible when they're both awake, but he knows how to connect to Luna in a dreamstate mentally without disturbing or distressing her. Knows how to quiet his own buzzing presence in little doses, so that he can give something warm to her in her dreams, and over time, he's been able to do it more and more. He knows that this is something he's meant to do.
He'll find what's hurting her, and he'll make it go away. )
[ Nightmares aren't something that are unusual, considering. There's plenty to cause her a lack of sleep, to keep her up at night. But even when she does manage to sleep, some nights there's often little peace for her. Some bad dreams come and go with little fuss, not too terrible enough to disturb her and she's able to shake them off when morning comes. Others bring her out of sleep with soft whimpers, burying herself against Peter and hiding in the slow steady beat of his heart until sleep takes her once more. And then there's ones that are too sharp, too much — and she wakes clamouring for breath and tearful, not wanting to return to bed.
The house is dark and strange, and she is afraid. Somewhere, somehow, she knows that it's not longer safe here. He is here. After all the time and work spent into making it as safe as possible, he's here in her house. She searches, room to room downstairs — looking for him. Moves a quickly as she can but every step and movement is painfully sluggish, as if she were underwater. The urgency is almost painful, her body screaming at itself to move faster but she can't.
A voice cries out her name. Or she thinks its her name; a sound that seems like her name. Upstairs, high up above her. Luna cries out back, and she races for the stairs. Climbs up and up but never seeming to make any progress, the steps stretching higher up before her eyes and even still — she moves so painfully slow. She has to get to him, she knows he has Peter — she has to get to him, keep him safe. Save him. It seems like an age of climbing, she makes it to the first floor landing and then hurries down the corridor, turning up the next flight of stairs to climb higher up — she needs to keep going, he's higher up please don't have him, please let him be safe—
The staircase ends into nothingness, the dreamscape shifting from her home to an open space of blackness. Something more abstract, sensations and textures: the cold, unpleasant scratching feel of stone brickwork, the biting chill of winter snow, the stale, damp air of a cellar. Things unpleasant, feeding the anxiousness within her
Peter whimpers softly, held in a headlock by a tall figure. The scraping of metal on stone, two gold glowing eyes in the dark. Luna raises her wand, only to find her hand empty. She can't move. Maul grins, fangs bared. She doesn't want this. Please leave him be, let her have him. Don't take him away. Don't hurt him. His fingers sink into his temple as if it were sand, then twisting and tearing at something in one sharp, violent action. His voice echoes, distorted and snarling: And I'll tell you this, since you seem to be ignorant of what I am: Sith Lords do not take orders from anyone. I will do what I want and destroy anyone who gets in the way of my goals.
(Her breaths come shallow and quick through her nose, face tipping into more upset. A soft sound escapes her lips: frightened, pleading.)
She can't scream, can't move. A deep horror within her swallows her whole no no no no, please. Peter strains against his hold, too-familiar black eyes swollen and wet and furious. Maul whispers something to him, releases the straining boy after her
they collide violently; heavy, the air knocked from her lungs. she's stuck beneath him, too heavy, too much, too sharp. hands scrambling at her throat, trying to crush, nails trying to tear at soft, fragile skin— stop stop i love you come back don't go ]
The house is dark and strange, and she is afraid. Somewhere, somehow, she knows that it's not longer safe here. He is here. After all the time and work spent into making it as safe as possible, he's here in her house. She searches, room to room downstairs — looking for him. Moves a quickly as she can but every step and movement is painfully sluggish, as if she were underwater. The urgency is almost painful, her body screaming at itself to move faster but she can't.
— she can't find peter where is he where is he where is he
A voice cries out her name. Or she thinks its her name; a sound that seems like her name. Upstairs, high up above her. Luna cries out back, and she races for the stairs. Climbs up and up but never seeming to make any progress, the steps stretching higher up before her eyes and even still — she moves so painfully slow. She has to get to him, she knows he has Peter — she has to get to him, keep him safe. Save him. It seems like an age of climbing, she makes it to the first floor landing and then hurries down the corridor, turning up the next flight of stairs to climb higher up — she needs to keep going, he's higher up please don't have him, please let him be safe—
The staircase ends into nothingness, the dreamscape shifting from her home to an open space of blackness. Something more abstract, sensations and textures: the cold, unpleasant scratching feel of stone brickwork, the biting chill of winter snow, the stale, damp air of a cellar. Things unpleasant, feeding the anxiousness within her
— something bad is going to happen something bad bad bad
Peter whimpers softly, held in a headlock by a tall figure. The scraping of metal on stone, two gold glowing eyes in the dark. Luna raises her wand, only to find her hand empty. She can't move. Maul grins, fangs bared. She doesn't want this. Please leave him be, let her have him. Don't take him away. Don't hurt him. His fingers sink into his temple as if it were sand, then twisting and tearing at something in one sharp, violent action. His voice echoes, distorted and snarling: And I'll tell you this, since you seem to be ignorant of what I am: Sith Lords do not take orders from anyone. I will do what I want and destroy anyone who gets in the way of my goals.
(Her breaths come shallow and quick through her nose, face tipping into more upset. A soft sound escapes her lips: frightened, pleading.)
She can't scream, can't move. A deep horror within her swallows her whole no no no no, please. Peter strains against his hold, too-familiar black eyes swollen and wet and furious. Maul whispers something to him, releases the straining boy after her
—not peter not peter. gone. gone gone gone.
they collide violently; heavy, the air knocked from her lungs. she's stuck beneath him, too heavy, too much, too sharp. hands scrambling at her throat, trying to crush, nails trying to tear at soft, fragile skin— stop stop i love you come back don't go ]
[That she's a light sleeper comes as little surprise, though it's saddening to hear. He could protest in turn that it was all the more reason to not disturb her (and feel as much, too)--but he doesn't have the reserves to pursue it beyond a quiet,] Even so.
[Even so, they as Sleepers owe each other so much. Like camaraderie, like an offered name and all that implies--so when she says she hasn't learned his, obliquely asking, there's a rueful note in his reply.] My people do not burden others with our names, when first--when first we meet them.
If there is something you would call me, I would answer to that. [She's one he trusts to give him a good one, from their past interactions. She is observant-- (He nods; he's been to the water.) --and hasn't lost a certain air of innocence despite the wisdom she's won in this world and the one before. Anyone who thought first of how to gentle and mend a beast rather than kill it deserved esteem.
In this particular case, however... He lets his eyes (the visible one, the hundred not) fall closed again, reaching out to his far-away Omen and querying her status. Thefriend monster they'd fled is still furious enough to chase her, though she's widening the gap between them as she squeezes between boarded-up basements in Crenshaw.] It stays distracted, for now. My Omen has it--she will say, if it slips loose, and call the Hunters. But this is not--this is not being a, mm, immediate worry.
[And, because he does not want her in Bigby's path, even if she's not there to kill him, Illarion adds quickly--] So we might sit here and speak of something more pleasant instead, yes? While I am regaining my strength.
[Even so, they as Sleepers owe each other so much. Like camaraderie, like an offered name and all that implies--so when she says she hasn't learned his, obliquely asking, there's a rueful note in his reply.] My people do not burden others with our names, when first--when first we meet them.
If there is something you would call me, I would answer to that. [She's one he trusts to give him a good one, from their past interactions. She is observant-- (He nods; he's been to the water.) --and hasn't lost a certain air of innocence despite the wisdom she's won in this world and the one before. Anyone who thought first of how to gentle and mend a beast rather than kill it deserved esteem.
In this particular case, however... He lets his eyes (the visible one, the hundred not) fall closed again, reaching out to his far-away Omen and querying her status. The
[And, because he does not want her in Bigby's path, even if she's not there to kill him, Illarion adds quickly--] So we might sit here and speak of something more pleasant instead, yes? While I am regaining my strength.
( This is a piece of the demon's capability that Peter doesn't share. The mental tether between Peter and Luna is vocal, whispered, little secrets apart from everything outside — a world of their own. But while Paimon can also access that tether, he can go... further. Dreams, nightmares, desires, fears, doubts, certainties... these are all things he has a certain sensitivity to. He can't quite walk alongside someone within their dreams the way Lucifer could — as a visitor that can be spoken to, interacted with — but he can shape and manipulate such things on a level that's emotional, psychological, but also spiritual in its ways. His intimate summoners would request such assistance from him — give him offering and invite him inwards to their psychological state. He would alter it to their requests, giving clarity, lucidity, doses of peace and understanding. Hallucinations, visions, some connection to a higher awareness. Snippets of the future itself.
...It could also be used in opposite. To terrorise, to stoke up nightmares from the deepest trenches of a person's soul, to cast vision and hallucination meant to personally unravel a human spirit. It's how he'd most recently been directed, only a few years ago.
He hasn't been specifically requested by Luna to do anything here, but the need and allowance to take care of her on such a level is something that comes with their Bond. He couldn't do anything that would alter her in the waking world without her specifically asking it of him — but granting her good dreams is something that has no lasting effect. All it does is temporarily soothe one little piece of the many things that are harming her mental state, lately. It isn't much. It's just.... some quiet, brief reprieve. Something he can do for her.
She won't see him there in her dreams. He's an invisible presence, and he sees what her consciousness weaves as though through a filter, something hazy and ghostlike. Mostly, it's the sensations that come through to the demon the strongest. And right away, he can feel how so much is wrong, here. Alone, afraid, searching, desperate. She can't find Peter. The house becomes something stale and damp and dark — like a dungeon, like the place that Paimon had witnessed for himself back in one of Luna's most horrible memories. The demon tenses, expecting the nightmare to play out such torture. The witch with a tangled mass of long, dark hair, and cruel, almost inhuman laughter. How she'd tormented Luna as easily as if she were an insect.
But it isn't the witch who stands waiting for Luna. It's Maul, eyes glowing like a creature in the dark. And in his grasp is Peter, and his fingers are twisting inwards to his mind, to what lives beneath, and Paimon understands what this is. Outside of here, in the waking world, his body shudders beside Luna's whimpering one, his eyes held saucer-wide and wet as he stares at her. Fear, horror, ache — are they her emotions, or his own? In the moment it's both, and the demon is so deeply upset by it, feels something inside himself shredding; it hurts. He doesn't want this, doesn't want to see this. But he won't leave her.
—not peter not peter. gone. gone gone gone.
He watches himself in this dreamscape — eyes too-full and yet somehow too-empty, lacking emotion or care towards the person he cares for the most, hollow like a shark that's smelled prey, springing at her little body with violence. He knows he'll kill her, rip out her throat; Paimon's watching one of Luna's worst horrors play out, and it's also one of his own. For a moment that feels too long, he can't act. Doesn't know how to. He's never changed a nightmare before, simply added things to it in order to make it something soft instead of cruel. But there's no way to add to this; everything needs to be taken away. Everything dark and scary and hurting. He has to stop this.
It swells up in him, louder and louder, all of his energy suddenly channeling into the concept of taking this away from Luna, and suddenly, abruptly — it all stops. Perhaps too suddenly. It's as if a book has turned a page, and everything that was on it has melted away, leaving an entirely new set of words.
Luna is outside, and there is no perpetual darkness. No night at all. Warmth kisses her skin from the skies above, from the sun that glows loving and secure.
The landscape is like a garden that never ends — lined in tall, bright green hedges, and leafy vines that trail down over intricate trellises. A meadow stretches as far as the eye can see and further still. The ground beneath where she lies — no longer trapped beneath an oppressive, snarling heaviness — is so soft it's like feathers, and everywhere are flowers. Their stems curl up between her fingers, their petals brushing delicately against her skin. And there are more still in her hair, dozens and dozens of flowers blossoming lovingly from inbetween her curls.
The grass is impossibly green and sweet, and there are trees spreading around in fantastical colours: purples, pinks, blues, and perhaps some in colours that no human has ever truly witnessed. Across everything is some hint of golden, sparkling iridescent and ethereal just there at the corner of the vision. It's beautiful, and dreamlike, surreal. A painting brought to life. Nothing could ever harm her here.
She isn't alone. Beside her is a boy, eyes closed and breathing quietly; he rests in the most peaceful sleep. Safe; Peter's safe. She has him back, and nothing can hurt him. Flowers bloom from his own dark curls.
When she sees him, Peter's eyes will slowly open to look to her, and he'll reach for her hand there where they both lie in the flowers. He'll smile, loving and warm, and human. And somehow, there's a thought, the certainty that exists in this beautiful, safe place—
This can last forever. )
...It could also be used in opposite. To terrorise, to stoke up nightmares from the deepest trenches of a person's soul, to cast vision and hallucination meant to personally unravel a human spirit. It's how he'd most recently been directed, only a few years ago.
He hasn't been specifically requested by Luna to do anything here, but the need and allowance to take care of her on such a level is something that comes with their Bond. He couldn't do anything that would alter her in the waking world without her specifically asking it of him — but granting her good dreams is something that has no lasting effect. All it does is temporarily soothe one little piece of the many things that are harming her mental state, lately. It isn't much. It's just.... some quiet, brief reprieve. Something he can do for her.
She won't see him there in her dreams. He's an invisible presence, and he sees what her consciousness weaves as though through a filter, something hazy and ghostlike. Mostly, it's the sensations that come through to the demon the strongest. And right away, he can feel how so much is wrong, here. Alone, afraid, searching, desperate. She can't find Peter. The house becomes something stale and damp and dark — like a dungeon, like the place that Paimon had witnessed for himself back in one of Luna's most horrible memories. The demon tenses, expecting the nightmare to play out such torture. The witch with a tangled mass of long, dark hair, and cruel, almost inhuman laughter. How she'd tormented Luna as easily as if she were an insect.
But it isn't the witch who stands waiting for Luna. It's Maul, eyes glowing like a creature in the dark. And in his grasp is Peter, and his fingers are twisting inwards to his mind, to what lives beneath, and Paimon understands what this is. Outside of here, in the waking world, his body shudders beside Luna's whimpering one, his eyes held saucer-wide and wet as he stares at her. Fear, horror, ache — are they her emotions, or his own? In the moment it's both, and the demon is so deeply upset by it, feels something inside himself shredding; it hurts. He doesn't want this, doesn't want to see this. But he won't leave her.
—not peter not peter. gone. gone gone gone.
He watches himself in this dreamscape — eyes too-full and yet somehow too-empty, lacking emotion or care towards the person he cares for the most, hollow like a shark that's smelled prey, springing at her little body with violence. He knows he'll kill her, rip out her throat; Paimon's watching one of Luna's worst horrors play out, and it's also one of his own. For a moment that feels too long, he can't act. Doesn't know how to. He's never changed a nightmare before, simply added things to it in order to make it something soft instead of cruel. But there's no way to add to this; everything needs to be taken away. Everything dark and scary and hurting. He has to stop this.
It swells up in him, louder and louder, all of his energy suddenly channeling into the concept of taking this away from Luna, and suddenly, abruptly — it all stops. Perhaps too suddenly. It's as if a book has turned a page, and everything that was on it has melted away, leaving an entirely new set of words.
Luna is outside, and there is no perpetual darkness. No night at all. Warmth kisses her skin from the skies above, from the sun that glows loving and secure.
The landscape is like a garden that never ends — lined in tall, bright green hedges, and leafy vines that trail down over intricate trellises. A meadow stretches as far as the eye can see and further still. The ground beneath where she lies — no longer trapped beneath an oppressive, snarling heaviness — is so soft it's like feathers, and everywhere are flowers. Their stems curl up between her fingers, their petals brushing delicately against her skin. And there are more still in her hair, dozens and dozens of flowers blossoming lovingly from inbetween her curls.
The grass is impossibly green and sweet, and there are trees spreading around in fantastical colours: purples, pinks, blues, and perhaps some in colours that no human has ever truly witnessed. Across everything is some hint of golden, sparkling iridescent and ethereal just there at the corner of the vision. It's beautiful, and dreamlike, surreal. A painting brought to life. Nothing could ever harm her here.
She isn't alone. Beside her is a boy, eyes closed and breathing quietly; he rests in the most peaceful sleep. Safe; Peter's safe. She has him back, and nothing can hurt him. Flowers bloom from his own dark curls.
When she sees him, Peter's eyes will slowly open to look to her, and he'll reach for her hand there where they both lie in the flowers. He'll smile, loving and warm, and human. And somehow, there's a thought, the certainty that exists in this beautiful, safe place—
This can last forever. )
Strange that a name might seem like a burden. [ It's a curious thing, but she understands it in ways. Things she's learned over time, reasons behind not giving names. There's power in names, for one. She's always so careful about giving Paimon's away, for one. ] So I can give you a name?
[ There's a small inhale at that in surprise; certainly it feels like big responsibility to do something like that. It's... admittedly not the first time she's come across something like this. ]
I knew someone once who didn't have a name at all, so I gave him one so I could call him something. [ There's a hint of a smile. ] I picked the colour 'Phthalo' for him. Would a colour suit for you?
[ There's a nod of understanding, quelled by the mention of there being no immediate threat. That's something at least. But it seems to be a bit of a sore subject — asking for something nicer to talk about. Not that she'll pry any further; it's his business. There's a rueful smile as she inhales, shrugging. ]
There's often hardly anything pleasant to talk about, considering this place. [ The last few months have been particularly difficult. But January seems to be a little calmer, kinder and — considering where they are now: ] Although it's nice Moon Presence has come down to the ground.
[ She turns her head for a moment to look up at the slumbering god behind them, smiling softly. There's a small hum of affection before she asks: ]
Do you know much about her?
[ There's a small inhale at that in surprise; certainly it feels like big responsibility to do something like that. It's... admittedly not the first time she's come across something like this. ]
I knew someone once who didn't have a name at all, so I gave him one so I could call him something. [ There's a hint of a smile. ] I picked the colour 'Phthalo' for him. Would a colour suit for you?
[ There's a nod of understanding, quelled by the mention of there being no immediate threat. That's something at least. But it seems to be a bit of a sore subject — asking for something nicer to talk about. Not that she'll pry any further; it's his business. There's a rueful smile as she inhales, shrugging. ]
There's often hardly anything pleasant to talk about, considering this place. [ The last few months have been particularly difficult. But January seems to be a little calmer, kinder and — considering where they are now: ] Although it's nice Moon Presence has come down to the ground.
[ She turns her head for a moment to look up at the slumbering god behind them, smiling softly. There's a small hum of affection before she asks: ]
Do you know much about her?
[ It's a strange shift, even in dreaming. The suffocating pressure, the sensations against her neck under the hazy lens of the dream — then nothing, a gentle ease. Sudden and almost jarring, but not enough to pull her from the dream even as she shifts slightly in her sleep — exhaling sharply. For a brief moment there's uncertainty where one stage ends and the next begins. It just is. She feels like she can breathe again, and the fear slips away like the brushing of a wave on the sand.
She slowly pushes herself up on her shoulders to find herself in a wonderfully strange place; like something she could paint, perhaps something she might have painted once. How the colours seem the breathe around her — some extraordinary, wonderful world. Luna's quiet for a long moment, taking it all in, flopping back down into the soft cushion of wildflowers. When she turns to find Peter, stirring beside her as she does, the previous dream is almost completely forgotten. She utters his name softly, turning to face him as he takes her hand with is.
'There— there are flowers in your hair.'
Luna smiles, her other hand reaching over and up to gently touch a little blossom in his hair. Yours, too. A warming sensation washes over her, something quiet and gentle. She curls in close beside him, her fingers tracing down the side of his face, ghosting down and along his jaw. There's a soft shyness in her, a little giddy. This is a good dream. She feels at peace.
There's a shuddering exhale from her as she sleeps, but nothing more, and certainly nothing of concern. Her furrowed brow slowly smoothens out once more, muscles slowly and gradually relaxing as the terror of the nightmare eases out of her. She makes no more sounds, no more whimpers or hushed sounds of fretfulness. For a long time, Luna is still save for the slight fluttering beneath her closed eyes — dreams quietly and softly in this little space he's created for her. The silence is tranquil.
And when she stirs after some time has passed, it's only with the natural shift of sleep phases — the stage of dreaming coming to any end and she shifts into lighter sleep. Only instead she's pulled slowly into the stages of waking, slow and groggy as she burrows her head into her pillow and groans quietly, frowning for a long moment before she tentatively opens her eyes — two softly glowing circles in the dark. There's a long silence from her as she takes in her surroundings, reminds herself where she is, and then slowly looks up to find a pair of too-full black eyes staring back at her. Luna blinks a few times, confusion flittering over her face for a long time but she can't quite bring herself to move — her body too heavy with sleep.
It's not Peter staring back at her. She's gotten too used to who she's looking at, the shifts in their gazes depending on who's in control. She knows it's not Peter who's awake, but Paimon instead. And of course, it's nothing too out of the ordinary — she's realised before Paimon might shift into waking and go off by himself in the house: up in the attic, perhaps. Or to Peter's room. He doesn't stay. So she's curious as to why he's still here with her while she sleeps. That's... not usual, she doesn't think? Then again, perhaps she doesn't actually know what's usual, if she's asleep the whole time. ]
Paimon. [ She speaks his name softly, her voice thick with sleep. ] Why are you awake? It's not morning, is it?
[ She doesn't think it is, although it's quite hard to tell under the perpetual emerald darkness. Even with time set aside as 'bedtime' and a time to sleep, even when they wake it still remains as dark as it had been when they'd went to bed. ]
She slowly pushes herself up on her shoulders to find herself in a wonderfully strange place; like something she could paint, perhaps something she might have painted once. How the colours seem the breathe around her — some extraordinary, wonderful world. Luna's quiet for a long moment, taking it all in, flopping back down into the soft cushion of wildflowers. When she turns to find Peter, stirring beside her as she does, the previous dream is almost completely forgotten. She utters his name softly, turning to face him as he takes her hand with is.
'There— there are flowers in your hair.'
Luna smiles, her other hand reaching over and up to gently touch a little blossom in his hair. Yours, too. A warming sensation washes over her, something quiet and gentle. She curls in close beside him, her fingers tracing down the side of his face, ghosting down and along his jaw. There's a soft shyness in her, a little giddy. This is a good dream. She feels at peace.
There's a shuddering exhale from her as she sleeps, but nothing more, and certainly nothing of concern. Her furrowed brow slowly smoothens out once more, muscles slowly and gradually relaxing as the terror of the nightmare eases out of her. She makes no more sounds, no more whimpers or hushed sounds of fretfulness. For a long time, Luna is still save for the slight fluttering beneath her closed eyes — dreams quietly and softly in this little space he's created for her. The silence is tranquil.
And when she stirs after some time has passed, it's only with the natural shift of sleep phases — the stage of dreaming coming to any end and she shifts into lighter sleep. Only instead she's pulled slowly into the stages of waking, slow and groggy as she burrows her head into her pillow and groans quietly, frowning for a long moment before she tentatively opens her eyes — two softly glowing circles in the dark. There's a long silence from her as she takes in her surroundings, reminds herself where she is, and then slowly looks up to find a pair of too-full black eyes staring back at her. Luna blinks a few times, confusion flittering over her face for a long time but she can't quite bring herself to move — her body too heavy with sleep.
It's not Peter staring back at her. She's gotten too used to who she's looking at, the shifts in their gazes depending on who's in control. She knows it's not Peter who's awake, but Paimon instead. And of course, it's nothing too out of the ordinary — she's realised before Paimon might shift into waking and go off by himself in the house: up in the attic, perhaps. Or to Peter's room. He doesn't stay. So she's curious as to why he's still here with her while she sleeps. That's... not usual, she doesn't think? Then again, perhaps she doesn't actually know what's usual, if she's asleep the whole time. ]
Paimon. [ She speaks his name softly, her voice thick with sleep. ] Why are you awake? It's not morning, is it?
[ She doesn't think it is, although it's quite hard to tell under the perpetual emerald darkness. Even with time set aside as 'bedtime' and a time to sleep, even when they wake it still remains as dark as it had been when they'd went to bed. ]
[ There's a kind of relief at how seriously he listens to her regarding Maul, the severe nods at her words. Of course she's still going to worry about him, about what might happen. But she's done all she can do. She can advise him, but the choice is left to him. Even if it might have been easier just to ban any interaction between him and Maul all together, she's going to allow Paimon to make his own choices here. She's sure he'll be able to do that; he knows to be careful, he knows to consider — and to ask if he isn't sure.
That's all she can do, and just hope things will be alright. And hopefully she might not have to step in. She does genuinely want the best for him, at the end of the day. Luna perhaps didn't realise how difficult it would be, but she's trying.
Perhaps once she might have been a little more fierce in her insistence that this body isn't his, that it belongs to Peter. She's certainly been like that before, when he was feeding his blood to Lucifer — or how she'd referred to him as a guest, when they'd made their bond. But now—? It seems like so long ago now. Now, Luna doesn't feel any sting of annoyance or defensiveness; it's more the sobering feeling of pity for the demon. The more time she's spent with Paimon, that she's gotten to know him — the more that pity for him has bloomed. She does feel sorry for him, now more than ever — she does care for him.
The fact is, he's in much an unfortunate circumstance as much as Peter is. With how he's been treated by those who came before her, with his placement within a human. Existing in a way that's so strange and unnatural at times, trying to find himself once more. It hasn't been an easy road for any of them.
And with that, with sharing himself with Peter — he doesn't have anything of his own. Well, he does have some things, of course. He has his relationship with her, with others he knows. He does have his own ways in which Luna interacts with him, how she might touch him, things she might involve him with that she wouldn't Peter. These things are his, for him. But still, he shares himself with Peter. Luna inhales quietly in realisation, watching him toy with the fabric of Peter's lounge pants. ]
It would have been easier perhaps if you had a different body, one you could truly call your own. [ She's quietly spoken as she offers it, sad for him. If such a thing would have been possible; if there was a way to have a body of his own that wouldn't involved needing to share it with another. Existing outside of one isn't easy, she's seen that — even if she doesn't think too hard about that brief time they had spent together like that, with him attempting to possess her — a delicate ethereal orb of light and her trying to communicate, not being able to truly experience existence.]
But... then I suppose we would be very different. [ Would they be the same, if Paimon hadn't been in Peter? Granted there might not have been any need to bond with him, considering the circumstances of it. But perhaps she might have still felt pity for him, wanted to help some poor lost creature regardless. Even if they wouldn't be the same as they are now, she's sure of herself that she would have still tried to help Paimon if he existed outside of Peter.
She feels at a loss with that melancholy, and with the gentle melancholy of her own. She can't help him with the fact he can only share his body with Peter, that he can't have his own. Paimon has to remain in Peter. She doesn't like that feeling of helplessness, her brow furrowing for a long moment. But even if she can't help with that, there is perhaps something she could help with. Her head tilts the side for a moment, in thought. ]
... Would it help if you didn't dress like Peter, when you're in control—? [ She remembers back at the Anniversary Ball in Deerington, how he'd been dressed. It had been... very not-Peter. Perhaps something more suited for a demon king: the gold, the soft tinkling sounds as he walked. Shirtlessness aside, he'd been far more comfortable and confident in himself. Proud, even. ] If we when out and bought you some clothes of your own?
[ Maybe... maybe that would help. Something of his own to distinguish himself from Peter. She knows sometimes the shifts between them can come without warning, like now. Or sometimes Paimon takes control when Peter can't manage — it's not always practical for a wardrobe change in those times. But perhaps on the days when he's scheduled to be with her, the days they spend together — that would be a good time he could wear his own clothes instead of Peter's.
A slow smile spreads across her lips, quite pleased with the idea. This might be quite good, actually. It might help him feel better. Trying to do her best to help him, in whatever way she can. She carefully reaches across for his hands, holds them both in her own. ]
Why don't we do that? We can go to Willful Machine and find you some things to wear, things you could pick out for yourself. You could wear them on our days together. [ Admittedly, the idea on going on a little shopping trip sounds quite fun. He might usually come help with the shopping (she adores Peter, but she knows fine well he's a lazy teenage boy who loathes chores most of the time), but going out to do something like this for Paimon is quite exciting. ]
We could get you a nice cloak, like one of mine. And some other things, whatever you like—! [ She might... try and advise him on some things, however. Luna thinks there's... a bit of practicality needed concerning fashion in Trench, despite how lovely the Pleasure citizens look in their bright colours. But she's sure they can compromise. She squeezes his hands gently, still smiling. ] Would you like that?
That's all she can do, and just hope things will be alright. And hopefully she might not have to step in. She does genuinely want the best for him, at the end of the day. Luna perhaps didn't realise how difficult it would be, but she's trying.
Perhaps once she might have been a little more fierce in her insistence that this body isn't his, that it belongs to Peter. She's certainly been like that before, when he was feeding his blood to Lucifer — or how she'd referred to him as a guest, when they'd made their bond. But now—? It seems like so long ago now. Now, Luna doesn't feel any sting of annoyance or defensiveness; it's more the sobering feeling of pity for the demon. The more time she's spent with Paimon, that she's gotten to know him — the more that pity for him has bloomed. She does feel sorry for him, now more than ever — she does care for him.
The fact is, he's in much an unfortunate circumstance as much as Peter is. With how he's been treated by those who came before her, with his placement within a human. Existing in a way that's so strange and unnatural at times, trying to find himself once more. It hasn't been an easy road for any of them.
And with that, with sharing himself with Peter — he doesn't have anything of his own. Well, he does have some things, of course. He has his relationship with her, with others he knows. He does have his own ways in which Luna interacts with him, how she might touch him, things she might involve him with that she wouldn't Peter. These things are his, for him. But still, he shares himself with Peter. Luna inhales quietly in realisation, watching him toy with the fabric of Peter's lounge pants. ]
It would have been easier perhaps if you had a different body, one you could truly call your own. [ She's quietly spoken as she offers it, sad for him. If such a thing would have been possible; if there was a way to have a body of his own that wouldn't involved needing to share it with another. Existing outside of one isn't easy, she's seen that — even if she doesn't think too hard about that brief time they had spent together like that, with him attempting to possess her — a delicate ethereal orb of light and her trying to communicate, not being able to truly experience existence.]
But... then I suppose we would be very different. [ Would they be the same, if Paimon hadn't been in Peter? Granted there might not have been any need to bond with him, considering the circumstances of it. But perhaps she might have still felt pity for him, wanted to help some poor lost creature regardless. Even if they wouldn't be the same as they are now, she's sure of herself that she would have still tried to help Paimon if he existed outside of Peter.
She feels at a loss with that melancholy, and with the gentle melancholy of her own. She can't help him with the fact he can only share his body with Peter, that he can't have his own. Paimon has to remain in Peter. She doesn't like that feeling of helplessness, her brow furrowing for a long moment. But even if she can't help with that, there is perhaps something she could help with. Her head tilts the side for a moment, in thought. ]
... Would it help if you didn't dress like Peter, when you're in control—? [ She remembers back at the Anniversary Ball in Deerington, how he'd been dressed. It had been... very not-Peter. Perhaps something more suited for a demon king: the gold, the soft tinkling sounds as he walked. Shirtlessness aside, he'd been far more comfortable and confident in himself. Proud, even. ] If we when out and bought you some clothes of your own?
[ Maybe... maybe that would help. Something of his own to distinguish himself from Peter. She knows sometimes the shifts between them can come without warning, like now. Or sometimes Paimon takes control when Peter can't manage — it's not always practical for a wardrobe change in those times. But perhaps on the days when he's scheduled to be with her, the days they spend together — that would be a good time he could wear his own clothes instead of Peter's.
A slow smile spreads across her lips, quite pleased with the idea. This might be quite good, actually. It might help him feel better. Trying to do her best to help him, in whatever way she can. She carefully reaches across for his hands, holds them both in her own. ]
Why don't we do that? We can go to Willful Machine and find you some things to wear, things you could pick out for yourself. You could wear them on our days together. [ Admittedly, the idea on going on a little shopping trip sounds quite fun. He might usually come help with the shopping (she adores Peter, but she knows fine well he's a lazy teenage boy who loathes chores most of the time), but going out to do something like this for Paimon is quite exciting. ]
We could get you a nice cloak, like one of mine. And some other things, whatever you like—! [ She might... try and advise him on some things, however. Luna thinks there's... a bit of practicality needed concerning fashion in Trench, despite how lovely the Pleasure citizens look in their bright colours. But she's sure they can compromise. She squeezes his hands gently, still smiling. ] Would you like that?
Luna,
If you're getting this letter now that means I'm gone, Herc too. I know you've dealt with so much where you come from and even more heaped on you here, more than your fair share. You're one of the bravest I've ever had the chance to meet. One of the brightest and strongest witches as well. Seeing you grow over the last couple of years has been a pleasure. It's been an honor to be a part of that.
I know this place has a habit of kicking us when we're down but don't let that keep you under its heel. There's more than's being let on. I think more than what we've seen so far followed us from the last place, so stay sharp, love.
I haven't always done right by you here and I've apologized for more times than I care to count. Did my best. Hope I did well enough at least. I never really considered the possibility of settling down with a home and a family but you're the closest thing I've ever had to a daughter and I'm proud of you. Truly.
Take care of each other. Take care of Peter, and Paimon. I know the bugger things he can handle it all but he's young yet. There's a grimoire, King Solomon's original text, in the shop and warded, you'll be able to touch it but he won't. He's free to look at it when he's ready. I think you'll know when that is.
The shop is yours to take over and look after, Willow is sure to help. I've been letting Wrench stay there, he's got a place in the back. He's lost a lot between the last place and here, don't let him wander off. Obi-Wan's been helping teach there some days as well, there's a schedule up.
The cabin should still be there, wards and all. If any of you need a safe place, it's as good as any.
Love you, little witch,
John Constantine
P.S. There'll be a few wrapped parcels at the shop with names on them. Don't be surprised if they stop in. Also, there's a woman named Rose I've been trying to help, do what you can for her?
Also, I've taken a bit of Ariadne's thread off the spool. Not a lot but here's to hoping it's enough that Herc and I don't get separated on the way out to whatever adventure is next, eh?
[ At the very bottom, scrawled hastily: ]
Nearly forgot, can't have those flowers of yours left without care, can I? The cup with the flowers you grew for me way back in the old town are on the window sill in the kitchen of the cabin. I know you'll look after them.
If you're getting this letter now that means I'm gone, Herc too. I know you've dealt with so much where you come from and even more heaped on you here, more than your fair share. You're one of the bravest I've ever had the chance to meet. One of the brightest and strongest witches as well. Seeing you grow over the last couple of years has been a pleasure. It's been an honor to be a part of that.
I know this place has a habit of kicking us when we're down but don't let that keep you under its heel. There's more than's being let on. I think more than what we've seen so far followed us from the last place, so stay sharp, love.
I haven't always done right by you here and I've apologized for more times than I care to count. Did my best. Hope I did well enough at least. I never really considered the possibility of settling down with a home and a family but you're the closest thing I've ever had to a daughter and I'm proud of you. Truly.
Take care of each other. Take care of Peter, and Paimon. I know the bugger things he can handle it all but he's young yet. There's a grimoire, King Solomon's original text, in the shop and warded, you'll be able to touch it but he won't. He's free to look at it when he's ready. I think you'll know when that is.
The shop is yours to take over and look after, Willow is sure to help. I've been letting Wrench stay there, he's got a place in the back. He's lost a lot between the last place and here, don't let him wander off. Obi-Wan's been helping teach there some days as well, there's a schedule up.
The cabin should still be there, wards and all. If any of you need a safe place, it's as good as any.
Love you, little witch,
John Constantine
P.S. There'll be a few wrapped parcels at the shop with names on them. Don't be surprised if they stop in. Also, there's a woman named Rose I've been trying to help, do what you can for her?
Also, I've taken a bit of Ariadne's thread off the spool. Not a lot but here's to hoping it's enough that Herc and I don't get separated on the way out to whatever adventure is next, eh?
[ At the very bottom, scrawled hastily: ]
Nearly forgot, can't have those flowers of yours left without care, can I? The cup with the flowers you grew for me way back in the old town are on the window sill in the kitchen of the cabin. I know you'll look after them.
Edited 2022-04-28 08:36 (UTC)
( It really isn't typical for him to stay in bed beside her when he surfaces, and if this were any ordinary night, Paimon would have slipped away off elsewhere. The Witch's Bed is a place he's really meant to be only when Peter is dominant. ...Which isn't to say that Paimon doesn't still get to experience sleeping beside Luna through Peter... and even Snuggling With Her, too (which is very nice and she smells very good).
But he's not meant to be the dominant one, when that happens. This is, however, a special situation. He couldn't leave her alone. Not when she's suffering, aching, afraid.... And waking Peter really wouldn't do much good; all the boy could really do would be wake her, and... that may steal Luna from her nightmares, but it would also cost her precious sleep.
No, this is something only Paimon can do. Lull her into a pleasant place, create somewhere safe and secure for her so that she can continue resting. Free of fear, anxiety, ache. He spins his creativity to give her a beautiful place, and he gives her Peter, and he watches the witch slowly settle, her breathing relaxing, her muscles still.
Time passes, and he doesn't keep track of how much. It could be hours; he stays where he is, lying beside her, eyes staring, every ounce of his energy focused on her. The dream has no agenda, no plot to unfold. He simply lets her rest there in the space, and makes sure that no darker things trickle in from the corners of Luna's mind. He creates his own boundaries against them, shielding her from any whispers of cruel things.
When she finally stirs, he still doesn't move. Not even when those wide eyes open, glowing out into the darkness like some creature of the deep sea. The demon needs to make sure she's still all right, that this isn't a segue into sleepwalking — as he knows she's prone to do. He's certainly followed her around the house on more than one occasion to make sure she doesn't get in some sort of danger.
But no, Luna seems truly awake. And it's then that she calls his name, and when she does his eyes shift and widen with a sort of glimmer of recognition. He stares at her for a long moment, letting the last of his influence trickle away. )
It is not morning. ( He answers softly. Somehow he knows, despite the fact there's no true way to tell. Somehow he's starting to know many things. The demon's voice quietens further, a soft hush that's almost a whisper. )
Everything is all right. Safe to go back into sleep. ( Since she's tired, groggy, she can rest more if she likes. Luna certainly could do with all the sleep she can get. )
Your dream was bad... scary. So I fixed it. It is safe now.
But he's not meant to be the dominant one, when that happens. This is, however, a special situation. He couldn't leave her alone. Not when she's suffering, aching, afraid.... And waking Peter really wouldn't do much good; all the boy could really do would be wake her, and... that may steal Luna from her nightmares, but it would also cost her precious sleep.
No, this is something only Paimon can do. Lull her into a pleasant place, create somewhere safe and secure for her so that she can continue resting. Free of fear, anxiety, ache. He spins his creativity to give her a beautiful place, and he gives her Peter, and he watches the witch slowly settle, her breathing relaxing, her muscles still.
Time passes, and he doesn't keep track of how much. It could be hours; he stays where he is, lying beside her, eyes staring, every ounce of his energy focused on her. The dream has no agenda, no plot to unfold. He simply lets her rest there in the space, and makes sure that no darker things trickle in from the corners of Luna's mind. He creates his own boundaries against them, shielding her from any whispers of cruel things.
When she finally stirs, he still doesn't move. Not even when those wide eyes open, glowing out into the darkness like some creature of the deep sea. The demon needs to make sure she's still all right, that this isn't a segue into sleepwalking — as he knows she's prone to do. He's certainly followed her around the house on more than one occasion to make sure she doesn't get in some sort of danger.
But no, Luna seems truly awake. And it's then that she calls his name, and when she does his eyes shift and widen with a sort of glimmer of recognition. He stares at her for a long moment, letting the last of his influence trickle away. )
It is not morning. ( He answers softly. Somehow he knows, despite the fact there's no true way to tell. Somehow he's starting to know many things. The demon's voice quietens further, a soft hush that's almost a whisper. )
Everything is all right. Safe to go back into sleep. ( Since she's tired, groggy, she can rest more if she likes. Luna certainly could do with all the sleep she can get. )
Your dream was bad... scary. So I fixed it. It is safe now.
Edited 2022-05-03 00:08 (UTC)
Hey Luna.
I saw your network post and I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing?
I've also got some news for ya but that can wait for a little.
I saw your network post and I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing?
I've also got some news for ya but that can wait for a little.
It is... But- It wasn't exactly something you could control either. Just try not to beat yourself up too much about it.
I think compiling information about how everyone goes all beasty is a great idea. And I hope it ends up helping out.
It is good news! I promise.
So- You know the whole bond things that came up the other month? I did one of those with Ange and well- I guess people seem to think that's kind of like getting married here in Trench.
So I uh decided to go all the way with Ange and I proposed to her the other day.
AND SHE SAID YES TOO
I think compiling information about how everyone goes all beasty is a great idea. And I hope it ends up helping out.
It is good news! I promise.
So- You know the whole bond things that came up the other month? I did one of those with Ange and well- I guess people seem to think that's kind of like getting married here in Trench.
So I uh decided to go all the way with Ange and I proposed to her the other day.
AND SHE SAID YES TOO
[ It's a strange little moment, finding him here where it appears there's no apparent or sudden danger at all. He's just... here, for some reason. When he's not really... meant to be (?). It leaves her with questions, ones she can't quite form through the haze of sleepiness. There's a quiet little grumbling with the clarification. No, it's not morning. It's far too early to be awake, it seems. She inhales slowly, her brow furrowing for a long moment as she nestles her head in the pillow once more and then sighs. She's tired, still. Wants to sleep a little more; Paimon's hushed assurances she's safe to do so are all she needs to hear, content to drift off once more. Perhaps he'll sleep, too. Or move to get out of bed to go do whatever it is he gets up to in the middle of the night.
But she doesn't, hearing the mention of a bad dream. Her eyes open a little more and she across at him curiously for a few moments. Her dream was scary, he... fixed it. Luna's expression shifts into uncertainty, taking a moment to recall. What had she been dreaming about...? ]
I was having a nightmare. [ She voices it softly, with that slow-dawning realisation. It feels so strange; to have a nightmare and to not wake up so disturbed and distressed. Even the ones that wouldn't have her up, crying and panicked, would have her waking in the mornings feeling uncomfortable, a little internally shaken before she would wake herself up and carry on with her day.
She's quiet for a long moment, recollecting; moving slowly, the rising panic, Maul. Peter's — not Peter — hands at her throat. And then... colour, softness; the warm fragrant breeze of a field of wildflowers, some fantastical place. ]
It changed. That... was you—? You did that—? [ She's stunned, even in the hushedness of her voice. Paimon... knew she was having a nightmare. ] That's... that's why I feel, I don't know.... good? Calm—? You did that.
[ Emotional support is not a concept she's unfamiliar with, considering her relationship with him, her bond. Offering that steadiness is something she's already experienced in ways, he's given that to her before. That he's sensitive to her, her emotions. But... dreams—? He can see her dreams—? She's sure, in some sleepy recollection, she remembers something about dreams. Still, it's not something she realised he was capable of, it's... new. ]
I didn't know you could do that.
But she doesn't, hearing the mention of a bad dream. Her eyes open a little more and she across at him curiously for a few moments. Her dream was scary, he... fixed it. Luna's expression shifts into uncertainty, taking a moment to recall. What had she been dreaming about...? ]
I was having a nightmare. [ She voices it softly, with that slow-dawning realisation. It feels so strange; to have a nightmare and to not wake up so disturbed and distressed. Even the ones that wouldn't have her up, crying and panicked, would have her waking in the mornings feeling uncomfortable, a little internally shaken before she would wake herself up and carry on with her day.
She's quiet for a long moment, recollecting; moving slowly, the rising panic, Maul. Peter's — not Peter — hands at her throat. And then... colour, softness; the warm fragrant breeze of a field of wildflowers, some fantastical place. ]
It changed. That... was you—? You did that—? [ She's stunned, even in the hushedness of her voice. Paimon... knew she was having a nightmare. ] That's... that's why I feel, I don't know.... good? Calm—? You did that.
[ Emotional support is not a concept she's unfamiliar with, considering her relationship with him, her bond. Offering that steadiness is something she's already experienced in ways, he's given that to her before. That he's sensitive to her, her emotions. But... dreams—? He can see her dreams—? She's sure, in some sleepy recollection, she remembers something about dreams. Still, it's not something she realised he was capable of, it's... new. ]
I didn't know you could do that.
I know. I'm trying. Even Paimon said something along those lines. Forgiving the part of myself that would never hurt people.
I hope so too. And if anything it'll be good to be busy. [ She needs that right now. ]
Goodness! Really? Congratulations, Ruby! I'm so happy for you both!!!
🥳🌈⭐️ 👏👏👏👏👏 🌻🌻🌻🌻
[ So many Emo-Gees In Celebration!!! (The sunflowers are for Good Luck. Yellow is very lucky for weddings). ]
I hope so too. And if anything it'll be good to be busy. [ She needs that right now. ]
Goodness! Really? Congratulations, Ruby! I'm so happy for you both!!!
🥳🌈⭐️ 👏👏👏👏👏 🌻🌻🌻🌻
[ So many Emo-Gees In Celebration!!! (The sunflowers are for Good Luck. Yellow is very lucky for weddings). ]
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