[ It's an odd situation all the way around: they're in some underwater city, a place of mystery and danger and never enough of anything. And yet in this moment, settled on the floor among sparse blankets, back pressed the wall and Luna curled in his lap, Peter feels some sense of normalcy through everything else.
...Even when it happens, the strange feeling and the strange thought-sounds in his head, ones that don't belong to him. He just can't be afraid, the way he normally would be. Not when Luna's with him. Not when her fingers are entwined in his. He keeps her safe, but she keeps him just as safe.
He watches her listen, watches her think — because he knows by now the way her eyes get when she's thinking. They might look lost with the wide openness of them, fogged-over moons, but she's somewhere deep and thoughtful, and he stays quiet, waiting.
He doesn't know what she hears. It's somewhere inside him that he can't reach — hidden away deeply. Paimon doesn't communicate with him much, doesn't want to. The demon keeps a mental distance between them, with occasional sounds and hums and whispers leaking through; Peter's heard the clucks before, echoing like his sister's ghost in his mind. But not the way that Luna will hear it. ...Intentional. Purposeful. Paimon feels her there and is warmed by her sudden, strange presence. Soft white fingers gently reaching inwards to the blackness he stays in, and he's surprised by it, surprised and happy and reaching back out to her.
They do both hear Luna's mental "cluck" — quiet, like the after-ripples of a stone cast onto the water, a reflection of what's in Peter. Paimon's excited surprise surges, swelling fast — she knows he's here; she spoke back to him — but Peter doesn't understand the exchange. He simply blinks, lids fluttering slightly, but not yet piecing together that the sound came from her; he thinks it's just another one of his own mental sounds, and he tries to ignore it. Peter... knows what's inside him, even if not the exactness of it or what it needs. He knows by now that it's alive, even knows what it's supposed to be called. Demon. He remembers feeling it in louder forms on the ship, remembers being constantly aware of its Hellfire. It's quieter now, a gentle murkiness that blends into him rather than fights him. Maybe it's tired. Maybe it's at ease.
He has to tell her. He has to tell anyone that he cares so deeply for. But he... can't, now. It's too much, and he has to be careful, and he'll need Ben to help him with... the form of that, and... he's afraid. He's very, very afraid in ways he hasn't even been able to touch on at all, refuses to. Sometime. For now, they have to just survive this place, and for now he has to help Luna, who's still so sick and frail.
'The curse'.
He cocks his head slightly, eyes widening — those were actual words this time. What.. Where...?
'I think that's you. I can hear you.' ]
...Me?
[ It takes him longer than her to figure it out, and he blinks glossily, but follows along with her suggestion. After considering it for a moment, he's thinking something quietly but clearly: ]
I'm really hungry.
[ ...A simple message...but one that has weight; hunger is a constant state in this place. He feels a little bit silly, though, ducking his head slightly just after the thought, a little grin splitting his expression as his hand simultaneously gives hers almost a subconscious squeeze. Whatever this is, it isn't bad. Just strange. ]
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...Even when it happens, the strange feeling and the strange thought-sounds in his head, ones that don't belong to him. He just can't be afraid, the way he normally would be. Not when Luna's with him. Not when her fingers are entwined in his. He keeps her safe, but she keeps him just as safe.
He watches her listen, watches her think — because he knows by now the way her eyes get when she's thinking. They might look lost with the wide openness of them, fogged-over moons, but she's somewhere deep and thoughtful, and he stays quiet, waiting.
He doesn't know what she hears. It's somewhere inside him that he can't reach — hidden away deeply. Paimon doesn't communicate with him much, doesn't want to. The demon keeps a mental distance between them, with occasional sounds and hums and whispers leaking through; Peter's heard the clucks before, echoing like his sister's ghost in his mind. But not the way that Luna will hear it. ...Intentional. Purposeful. Paimon feels her there and is warmed by her sudden, strange presence. Soft white fingers gently reaching inwards to the blackness he stays in, and he's surprised by it, surprised and happy and reaching back out to her.
They do both hear Luna's mental "cluck" — quiet, like the after-ripples of a stone cast onto the water, a reflection of what's in Peter. Paimon's excited surprise surges, swelling fast — she knows he's here; she spoke back to him — but Peter doesn't understand the exchange. He simply blinks, lids fluttering slightly, but not yet piecing together that the sound came from her; he thinks it's just another one of his own mental sounds, and he tries to ignore it. Peter... knows what's inside him, even if not the exactness of it or what it needs. He knows by now that it's alive, even knows what it's supposed to be called. Demon. He remembers feeling it in louder forms on the ship, remembers being constantly aware of its Hellfire. It's quieter now, a gentle murkiness that blends into him rather than fights him. Maybe it's tired. Maybe it's at ease.
He has to tell her. He has to tell anyone that he cares so deeply for. But he... can't, now. It's too much, and he has to be careful, and he'll need Ben to help him with... the form of that, and... he's afraid. He's very, very afraid in ways he hasn't even been able to touch on at all, refuses to. Sometime. For now, they have to just survive this place, and for now he has to help Luna, who's still so sick and frail.
'The curse'.
He cocks his head slightly, eyes widening — those were actual words this time. What.. Where...?
'I think that's you. I can hear you.' ]
...Me?
[ It takes him longer than her to figure it out, and he blinks glossily, but follows along with her suggestion. After considering it for a moment, he's thinking something quietly but clearly: ]
I'm really hungry.
[ ...A simple message...but one that has weight; hunger is a constant state in this place. He feels a little bit silly, though, ducking his head slightly just after the thought, a little grin splitting his expression as his hand simultaneously gives hers almost a subconscious squeeze. Whatever this is, it isn't bad. Just strange. ]