[ Emotion hits like a tidal wave, a surge of emotions pressing into her. Her own head is already full of her own thoughts and feelings, of Peter's too — and now the force of whatever Paimon is on top of that, saturating her with how wildly he feels.
Peter's far more gentle, tentatively reaching out for her — filling small spaces within her. This— this is... it's too much for her. Untempered gratitude with an intensity that it burns — too bright, too sharp. Even when it stumbles away, overwhelmed by her in return, it brings little relief because it pushes back again to quickly.
Luna's head falls into her hands, cradling it gently. To the outside world, it appears as if she has a headache — mentally, she's burning out from Paimon's total abandon. ]
Paimon. Stop—
[ It's too overwhelming, especially when she's still recovering from her death. Easily taxed before mentally and physically. It must know, surely. That she's ill. If it's aware of her, then it must be aware of Peter's own thoughts — Luna isn't blind to his fretting over her since they reunited. ]
Careful. Please.
[ She doesn't know if it even understands the world. It speaks as if it's learning, bolstering itself on her and their conversation. She goes quiet for a short while. She's still there, still connected — the soft, melodic of consciousness drifting through with a soft hum. She hasn't left, just mentally shifted back a little — finding a little silence, a little stillness. Space to think.
It isn't something placed upon Peter, then. Not in the way she thinks it is. But something that... inhabits. Paimon inhabits Peter. It feels and thinks and speaks — it is aware. And happily so. Pleased to be around her, to be aware of her. It's a strange thought — to have something she like this happy because of her. Almost fond of her. It's... oddly comforting, in a way.
Gingerly, she reaches back again: ]
Then you're not a curse, are you? Curses don't have sentience. They're not... like you. Not like the ones from my world. [ It won't say what it is, other than 'Not Peter'. But if it's aware, then maybe it can do other things: ] What do you want?
no subject
Peter's far more gentle, tentatively reaching out for her — filling small spaces within her. This— this is... it's too much for her. Untempered gratitude with an intensity that it burns — too bright, too sharp. Even when it stumbles away, overwhelmed by her in return, it brings little relief because it pushes back again to quickly.
Luna's head falls into her hands, cradling it gently. To the outside world, it appears as if she has a headache — mentally, she's burning out from Paimon's total abandon. ]
Paimon. Stop—
[ It's too overwhelming, especially when she's still recovering from her death. Easily taxed before mentally and physically. It must know, surely. That she's ill. If it's aware of her, then it must be aware of Peter's own thoughts — Luna isn't blind to his fretting over her since they reunited. ]
Careful. Please.
[ She doesn't know if it even understands the world. It speaks as if it's learning, bolstering itself on her and their conversation. She goes quiet for a short while. She's still there, still connected — the soft, melodic of consciousness drifting through with a soft hum. She hasn't left, just mentally shifted back a little — finding a little silence, a little stillness. Space to think.
It isn't something placed upon Peter, then. Not in the way she thinks it is. But something that... inhabits. Paimon inhabits Peter. It feels and thinks and speaks — it is aware. And happily so. Pleased to be around her, to be aware of her. It's a strange thought — to have something she like this happy because of her. Almost fond of her. It's... oddly comforting, in a way.
Gingerly, she reaches back again: ]
Then you're not a curse, are you? Curses don't have sentience. They're not... like you. Not like the ones from my world. [ It won't say what it is, other than 'Not Peter'. But if it's aware, then maybe it can do other things: ] What do you want?