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Entry tags:
deer country | ic inbox
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 ]
the arms of the ocean are carrying me
the arms of the ocean delivered me
[ text | voice | omen | action ]
"unnecessarily long" is the only mood, here comes the Demon Introspection
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. )
all of the feels....
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?
possibly wrap! ♥
But Trench has offered.... a certain stability. Over time, Paimon really has been able to begin forming some kind of life for himself, here. To desire certain things, to have his own place here. It's... hard. Listening to Luna reflect on it now, what it would have been like if he had his own body, the demon is melancholy in his own reflection of it, gazing down at Peter's hands, the shape of them. )
Yes. If I had my own body.... I could be more.
( He's pretty much accepted that he has to be trapped within a human, and certainly he prefers this to being lost the way he was when Peter died back in Deerington. But if it was a body without a separate spirit, one he didn't have to share with....
....'But... then I suppose we would be very different.'
He looks back up at Luna, dark eyes studying her silently. ...She's right; he can see that, too. He probably wouldn't have his Bond with her, wouldn't live with her like this. Peter is the means through which Paimon was able to form the relationship he does with Luna. )
You are right. We would not be the same.
( He nods quietly, though that melancholy still stays with him. All of it is.... difficult, for all of them. It's a strange existence they all share with one another. Now that he's becoming more aware of what's lacking and actually able to talk about it, it's.... hard. But he pauses at what Luna says next, attentive to the concept she's presenting. If he didn't... dress like Peter, when he was in control.
Finding ways to establish his own identity has been its own journey, and there have been times he and Peter butted heads about it, hard. It's only been very recently that they have their own spaces, thanks to Luna helping him set up a little crafts area, and then the movement to make the attic space his own "room", so to speak. Peter's finally stopped throwing away Paimon's things, and Paimon's stopped having to hide them in shoeboxes under the bed; now he can set them out and arrange them in the attic however he likes. It's helped, immensely.
But when it comes to his appearance.... that is trickier. He has a few items collected over time: his various crowns, a couple of garments that have been given to him by others or by this place itself. But he never wears them, except on rare occasions when he is by himself. When he's out and about, he just.... looks like Peter.
The idea of having his own clothes....? Of shopping for them, with her? The demon's eyes widen as Luna takes his hands, staring at the way she smiles. He's actually a bit at a loss for words now, looking stunned. Whatever he likes, she says. Things he could pick out, garments to adorn himself in. He hasn't forgotten the party from before, the way he'd felt so comfortable with his physical appearance, a rarity. Peter's body is some strange mixture of being better for him than where he was before, but also.... not entirely right, either. But if he could decorate it? With brighter colours, with draping golds and creams, with a cloak like hers, with earrings that dangle and jewelry upon his wrists. With shoes that actually show his feet instead of covering them up in Peter's dingy "Converse"..... With glitter upon his eyelids. (His imagination is already running wild, here. This is... important, for what he is.)
'Would you like that?' )
Yes....! ( Excitement isn't easily expressed, in Paimon. But there's something to the lilt of his tone, to the way his eyes flash, how he abruptly leans in closer to her, nose practically brushing the tip of Luna's. The demon is.... intensely thrilled, energy practically bubbling in a stark contrast from how it was just moments ago. Goodbye, Peter's lounge pants. )
I would like that. I would like to do the shopping with you. And— ( His eyes widen further as he tilts closer, and now his nose does press against hers; he's.... so close.... ) —if I can wear things when my vessel is sleeping. My own things. I would be...... ( The word lingers behind him, something he's not quite accustomed to using in regards to himself. )
...happy.