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[creidim]

the arms of the ocean are carrying me
the arms of the ocean delivered me

[ text | voice | omen | action ]

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murder jhey time cw: body horror + attempted neck injury

[creidim]

[ 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.

— 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 ]

let's fuckin gOOOO (cw: mention of torture, attempted neck injury)

[possessum]

( 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. )

i started writing this like four days ago..........

[creidim]

[ 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. ]

[possessum]

( 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.

[creidim]

[ 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.

[possessum]

( The demon nods softly, watching her understand. Truthfully, he'd never intended on outright telling her, or at least not now. It's something he's simply been doing in his own time — not something Luna explicitly asked him to do, but something that comes along with the package of taking care of her energy. That in itself makes it equal; he doesn't need to be directed to do it. It's part of his role, to care for her. )

I did.... I fixed it.

( He doesn't even really know how to describe what it is, only that it's felt... right. )

I did not know either. Not for a long time. But now.... I feel... more. More whole. More better.

...I can do more things.

( This place not keeping him under a certain padding, not keeping his powers muted down.... His continuing to learn about himself.... forming more connections with others.... and Peter slowly growing just a little bit stronger, able to handle Paimon in certain ways that he once wasn't. All of these factors have perhaps helped the demon become more, again. Even if he still has a way to go when it comes to fully regaining his true self, if it can ever even be done. )

I can help your mind stop hurting. ( There's a soft frown as he remembers those soft sounds, and the way her face had looked. Upset, pained. )

...I heard you crying out, when you slumbered. Your dream was.... very bad.

[creidim]

[ Luna's quiet, staring up at him for another long, silent moment. She never asked him to do such a thing, and yet he did it anyway. He fixed it, shifted her dreamscape into something else, something more peaceful. And it's not the first time he's done it either — all of it without prompting.

And it's new; things even he didn't know he could do, either. Luna knows well enough the Dream affected them, it certainly put limitations on her magic — would exhaust her if she pushed herself too hard. Healing magic wouldn't work (and it still doesn't work here, it still has its limitations) but here in the Waking World, things are... much different. More so for him than her. She's awestruck as his words settle in. It's a far cry from how he used to be, the ways in which he's slowly regaining parts of himself — no longer so lost and weakened. ]

You saw my nightmare...? You saw what it was about? [ There's a stirring of guilt in her, something a little mortified too. Mostly of the fact he's seen something hurtful, something her own mind's conjured — her fears of losing Peter, of him turning into something that... isn't even Paimon, either. A shade of the demon who would hurt her, like when he'd attacked her back in Deerington. ]

I'm sorry— [ He'll tell her it isn't her fault, but she feels regretful he saw such a thing. She can't imagine it wasn't pleasant for him to see that.

But she's... deeply touched by the gesture, despite that guilt and odd mortification over the whole thing. He slowly reclaims himself, and then helps her; reaches in to manipulate her dreams for good, to stop her hurting. It's... a huge, strange sensation in her chest, hard to process. Her heart feels... full. She's stunned, lost for words.

It wells up in her, seeps through her in her tired, emotional state. Gratefulness, guilt, and a quiet kind of peace. Her eyes fill with tears, gravity quickly taking them and splashing them down — sideways over her face, over the bridge of her nose — into the pillow. ]

... I'm not upset with you. [ She utters it when she realises her tears. He'll know that, surely. He'll feel she's not upset with him. But she oddly feels the need to say it. ]

[possessum]

( There's a soft nod at the questions — yes, he saw. What it was about. It was... difficult, to see. Not only due to his concern for her, but the matter itself, was difficult. Watching it play out, her fears manifested into a shape that looked like him, and reached for her throat.

'I'm sorry—'

Indeed, he's opening his mouth to respond to that, when suddenly Luna's crying. Openly, the water leaking from her eyes, moving down. His own eyes widen, surprised, upset — reaching slowly towards her face with one hand. )

Oh— No—

( In his surprise, he almost sounds too much like Peter, fumbling with his own words a little. Fingertips find her cheek, brush against the tears there. She isn't upset with him, he can feel it, but he doesn't understand. It's voiced softly, though the worry's clear in his expression, the way he stares so intently, drawing close. )

Why are you crying? Is it still scary?

( Maybe she's thinking of it, still. Gently, his hand cups her face, the way she's done to him, the way Peter's done to her — imitates the gesture of comfort. His palm presses to Luna's cheek, so that any new tears won't run down it, but against his hand instead. )

[creidim]

[ Once she starts, she can't seem to stop herself. Too tired and emotional, not that Luna would ever really try to hide her tears. She swallows thickly, lets out a little shuddering breath and falters, seeing the upset in his face. Even with her assurances that she's not upset with him — she realises there might be cause to be upset with him. But no, not with him.

Is it still scary? She can feel the hand as her cheek, the quiet shifting as he pulls closer to her. Her head shakes, the slightest of movements — not wanting to disturb his hand from where it rests. ]

No, it's not that. [ She sniffles softly, trying to find the words. It's difficult for her to even explain. ] They're... kind of... happy tears...?

[ Kind of, sort of. Mostly. There's another long moment as she tries to put it the right way for him to understand. ]

You took away the nightmare, you gave me a good dream. Even if I hadn't asked you to. You helped, and I'm... I'm very thankful... in a way I can't... put into words.

But I'm also sorry you had to see the nightmare in the first place, because it was hurtful.

[possessum]

( Happy tears. It's.... still strange for Paimon to understand, but it must be like when she pressed her mouth to Peter's, and he had tears. He said he was happy.

That's the closest context the demon can draw from, though he's still concerned, gaze wide and searching — looking from one of Luna's wet eyes to the other, back and forth, slowly like that. He's sitting up more, so that he can lift his other arm and find her cheek with that hand too, cupping her face with both now.

She's thankful, and he's pleased to hear that, but... he's worried. She's sorry, too. The demon stares; he knows what sorry is, by now. He's said it to her himself, after what happened with Maul. It means... you feel bad. Regretful. )

No... no, my witch. My little one. Do not be sorry. ( The endearment comes as he's smoothing his palms back against her cheeks over and over, slowly and gently, some gesture of petting. But.... her words do give him pause as he thinks about it. )

....I did not like watching it. ( Paimon has to admit, quietly. Seeing that strange thing he knows he can be... remembering her fear. She'd dreamed of it, and perhaps.... )

Are you still.... scared of me?

[creidim]

[ It's... nice, being held like this. It's more often that Peter might do this, or really that she might to Paimon to comfort him, to steady him. It's strange in its ways; these offerings of endearments and comfort that don't quite fit 'demon king' but then snatches of him being something more — touching something closer to what he's supposed to be. Not something lost. But this is nice, even with its strangeness — quietly comforting, and she's lulled by it for a long moment.

The question has her taken aback, though — scared of him—? Enough so that she can't answer straight away, can only stare with parted lips. Quickly she shakes her head, still trying not to disturb his hands. No, she's not scared of him. Of course, things have not been easy between them over the last year. With Maul interfering, with Paimon's attempted possession of her, and perhaps even with Peter falling to Corruption back in December.

But his own awareness of himself, and how his actions (even often through no fault of his own) have affected her — it's driven him to be careful with her, to be gentler. He's mindful. And it's certainly helped to mend the damages done between them, Luna's been grateful. Their relationship has been better, as it still moves and grows and evolves within this new world. ]

I— I know you would never choose to hurt me. [ She knows that, and believes it wholeheartedly. One hand reaches up to rest it on top of his as it holds her cheek, a gentle kind of reassurance. There's a tired smile, but it falters. It doesn't explain the dream does it—? ]

I suppose... I'm always scared of what you might become. Of losing Peter. [ So much has been going on, especially in the last few months. Things that will always be rattling around in her mind, pressed down to not actively think about them but — they're there. There's a long exhale, weary. ]

And— perhaps those fears will... always be there. And I'm sorry that they will be. [ She sniffles, shakes her head once more. She's regretful of that, that he's had to see that. She will always worry of losing Peter, it's the price ones pays for loving someone.

... But she'll worry about losing Paimon, too. Him becoming something he's not, turning into something cold and violent. It's something shaped differently to how she feels for Peter, a deep care — she doesn't want to lose him either. ]

But I don't— please don't think that means I'm scared of you. I know you. You're a good demon. You're very good to me, and that... means so much.