( It's not something Peter would ask about, usually. If he were in his usual state of mind, cautious and careful about asking too much, about approaching things that might be too hurtful, painful. But here he stands, emotions so intensely heightened by the strangeness of this fresh rebirth, and too many voices within himself remembering how to speak again β speaking over each other, and all the memories flooding to the surface....
....Though perhaps it's ultimately a... good thing...? That some of this is getting said? Even if this isn't how he'd ever usually go about it. Even if the expression on his friend's face hurts deeply, and Peter's own expression crumbles as he listens to him. An outside force... that's right, he remembers that too, now. Deerington did that to them all, a lot. Whatever happened, it was maybe because of the town, targeting Diarmuid.
But the subject still wounds him in a very particular way, one that flickers in him like a quiet light. He suddenly remembers that he knows what it is to feel like you want to die. And the relief that it hadn't been like that for Diarmuid in this instanceβ Peter gives a loud, shaky exhale. )
No, Iβ I believe you. I remember now, too. How that place.... did things like that to people. I'm sorry, Diarmuid. Whatever happened to you.... I'm really sorry.
...And I'm sorry Iβ he was involved. I remember... wanting to protect you from him, so badly. I wish I'd been able to. I'm so sorry.
( He remembers that he couldn't even tell Diarmuid about the demon for the longest time. That he'd been so afraid to lose him as a friend. )
You needn't apologize, Peter. It wasn't you. And if you are to blame for not protecting me from him, then I am to blame for not protecting you from him, too.
... If anything, the being trapped inside you should be the one apologizing to me.
He was terribly rude to do that.
[He says it, of course, like Paimon had just said some unflattering comment to him and hadn't been prepared to sacrifice him in the woods. Such is the way of things, when you live in Deerington. Trench now, it seems.
( 'Terribly rude' is definitelyβ an understatement, but it seems so distinctly Diarmuid to say something like that, that Peter actually breathes out a sound that halfway sounds like a laugh. The other half sounds like something upset, and he swallows a little bit after. )
He was. It wasβ really, really rude.
( It's only just now dawning in him that the thing had slipped from him so easily mere moments ago, not having to force its way out like usual, but.. more free. Speaking a breath after him, capable of that kind of control. Peter curls his fingers in for a minute, lets his nails pinch the palms of his skin. Some silent way to keep ahold of himself, maybe. )
I'mβ I'm okay. But you... god, you've got to be freezing. ( Peter looks around, spies another robe lying in the sand not far away, probably dropped by one of the people helping. He moves to it, takes it and then spreads it out over Diarmuid's shoulders. )
Here. Let'sβ we can go find you some food or something, if you want? Or somewhere you can sit down and rest...
[Ah...! He hadn't really noticed, but he's shivering now. Getting used to being human again is quite a feat, and as he moves to take a few steps to follow Peter, his legs wobble a bit under him. Sorry if he uses your arm for balance at the moment, a chara.]
That β yes! Yes, I'm a little cold...!
[Pulling the robes tighter around him, he offers an almost apologetic smile, as if he were feeling a little guilty that the other had to help care for him even a little. As is his way.]
I think... resting would be good. Food! Oh, how strange everything feels right now.
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cw: suicide discussion, brief mention of suicidal ideation
....Though perhaps it's ultimately a... good thing...? That some of this is getting said? Even if this isn't how he'd ever usually go about it. Even if the expression on his friend's face hurts deeply, and Peter's own expression crumbles as he listens to him. An outside force... that's right, he remembers that too, now. Deerington did that to them all, a lot. Whatever happened, it was maybe because of the town, targeting Diarmuid.
But the subject still wounds him in a very particular way, one that flickers in him like a quiet light. He suddenly remembers that he knows what it is to feel like you want to die. And the relief that it hadn't been like that for Diarmuid in this instanceβ Peter gives a loud, shaky exhale. )
No, Iβ I believe you. I remember now, too. How that place.... did things like that to people. I'm sorry, Diarmuid. Whatever happened to you.... I'm really sorry.
...And I'm sorry Iβ he was involved. I remember... wanting to protect you from him, so badly. I wish I'd been able to. I'm so sorry.
( He remembers that he couldn't even tell Diarmuid about the demon for the longest time. That he'd been so afraid to lose him as a friend. )
no subject
You needn't apologize, Peter. It wasn't you. And if you are to blame for not protecting me from him, then I am to blame for not protecting you from him, too.
... If anything, the being trapped inside you should be the one apologizing to me.
He was terribly rude to do that.
[He says it, of course, like Paimon had just said some unflattering comment to him and hadn't been prepared to sacrifice him in the woods. Such is the way of things, when you live in Deerington. Trench now, it seems.
The chilled boy sighs.]
Are you alright now?
It has been a taxing day, I think.
no subject
He was. It wasβ really, really rude.
( It's only just now dawning in him that the thing had slipped from him so easily mere moments ago, not having to force its way out like usual, but.. more free. Speaking a breath after him, capable of that kind of control. Peter curls his fingers in for a minute, lets his nails pinch the palms of his skin. Some silent way to keep ahold of himself, maybe. )
I'mβ I'm okay. But you... god, you've got to be freezing. ( Peter looks around, spies another robe lying in the sand not far away, probably dropped by one of the people helping. He moves to it, takes it and then spreads it out over Diarmuid's shoulders. )
Here. Let'sβ we can go find you some food or something, if you want? Or somewhere you can sit down and rest...
( His turn to take care of Diarmuid, for a bit. )
no subject
That β yes! Yes, I'm a little cold...!
[Pulling the robes tighter around him, he offers an almost apologetic smile, as if he were feeling a little guilty that the other had to help care for him even a little. As is his way.]
I think... resting would be good. Food! Oh, how strange everything feels right now.