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NOTE: I am forever backtag friendly and absolutely open to doing things from past events that won't really have an effect on things at any given time. For example, if you'd like to do something with Peter aged down or when he was his spider dream guide, etc.
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But then Luna smiles, and looks away, and the anxiety coiled in Peter loosens; he exhales, soft, as he watches her. He knows shyness, too, and it surprises him to see β but in a strangely pleasant way. The soft flush to her white cheek. He stares there, at her cheek, and then his own eyes drift away as though to give her privacy, or space. Those little human things β smiles, flushes, tendernesses. He's still shy to them, too. They're still new for him.
He sees the lapse in her shyness, something else taking hold β but subtly. And then Luna's agreeing to stay, in what she says next. 'It's fineβ it's perfectly good to me.'
Relief eases out of him that Peter hadn't been aware he was withholding. If she were to leave, that would be all right β he'd insist on walking her back, so he'd be able to make sure that she got there safely, but... but there's something to the fact she's staying that feels right. Because that means he can watch over her directly for a few more hours.
He means the offer to let her use him as comfort however she needs, sitting there near the wall, and then Luna directs him to stay where he is, and Peter does. He stays as she moves closer, and then β up and into his lap, turned so that her thin shoulder is a soft pressure against his chest, and Peter doesn't breathe for a moment. It does surprise him, stuns him into silence for a moment. There is that part of him that feels a certain timidity to this level of intimacy with someone else β once again, an average teenage boy, inexperienced, distanced from others. Someone in his lap β a girl no less β is a new experience that would usually shake him to the core. (Not in a bad way. This isn't bad. ...It's actually quite nice.)
But the him that exists now, the one who isn't only a teenage boy anymore, feels the intimacy in a different way. A... vulnerability. She rests childlike against him, tucked inwards, letting him hold her. The last time someone had been bundled up in his arms so small was when Charlie hadβ
βhe doesn't think of it. He can't. Some part of him knows it, but it's buried down too deeply.
Peter's arms are slowly going around Luna, slowly accepting, drawing her in, inviting her towards himself ever-so-slightly. He isn't good at comfort. He doesn'tβ know how. But he feels her small frame, how weak and tired, and he wants to help her. He wants to hold her the way he often needs to be held. ]
This is okay. [ He replies softly, lips barely moving, his heart feeling an odd ache of witnessing her vulnerability. It isn't the first time. He'd felt her trembling against him that nightmarish evening in the forest, saw Luna trapped somewhere awful. But this isβ different. Neither of them are caught in the whirlwind of their terrors, grasping each other desperately, fingers digging in. This is.. a choice, a plan, a decision made by both of them, to hold one another. Something swells in his chest, and Peter lets it.
Then she's reaching to take his hand and he watches her, hardly moving, not wanting to disturb her as she rests against him. It takes him a moment longer to notice it than she does β he's simply blinking down, wordlessly watching as she turns his hand, explores his digits β and then the boy notices it, too. Red, glinting. A string. It would be enough to frighten him usually, but he's making this discovery with Luna, and something to that fact makes him... braver, makes him okay. The feeling blooms so subtly that he isn't aware that it's spreading outwards once they both see the threads, that the connection between them sparks, that something strengthens. ]
I see it too, [ he murmurs, almost... awed. Peter gently turns his hand, watches the thread vibrate softly, connected to her. ] What... How is that...? [ ...working? How could it possibly exist? It's intangible, and yet it's clearly there; they're both gazing downwards at it. He looks up to meet her moon-eyes then, confused butβ not afraid.
There's something else there. He feels it before he sees it, cotton-soft. Melodic, whispers of thoughts. Not his, but in his mind. He should be afraid of this, too, and usually he would be, butβ not this time. Peter reaches for Luna's hand then, slips his fingers into hers. The act is almost subconscious; he grasps onto hers both to seek support and to give support. To anchor both of them. The red threads are brought together in the act, caught between their palms. ]
Do you hear that? Someoneβ talking? Or... almost talking?
[ It's Luna's thoughts, or snippets of them, though he doesn't know yet. 'What is that?' he thinks, and his own mind is a little louder, uncertainties drifting through. ]
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Sleep pulls at her, coaxing her with as much gentleness as Peter offers her. But the thread between their fingers keeps her temporarily captivated. Peter's words come with hushed awe and she feels the same β not afraid of this, but curious. Her eyes like saucers as the ghost-like thread shivers between them and then looking to him, equally as mystified as he is.
She's still staring at him as his fingers slip between hers, lips parting at the action in surprise β the sound comes. Inhaling softly but shakily, her fingers close downward, quiet whispering resounding in her mind: hushed, like soft breathing. Peter's voice echoes inside of her and Luna grows still to hear it: What is that? Luna blinks β Peter? Absently, her thumb brushes against his knuckle β self-soothed by the movement, and of him holding her hand and she holding is β as she listens. ]
Yes, I hear it.
[ She breathes it out, not wanting to raise her voice. She's enthralled by it β by the array of whispers she hears. And then she notices it: beneath the louder vocalisations, there's another set of noise. Low, echoing in the background. Luna stares at Peter for a moment longer before her gaze shifts down towards her hands. Her eyes glaze over and lose their focus as she mentally sifts through the sounds, trying to order them. She listens carefully, concentration etching into her face before she blinks suddenly β there, she hears it. Butβ what is it?
It doesn't sound like words, not really. More like a low hum at first, a white noise that almost soundsβ sound content. Odd, chittering static β absent but definitely quite at ease. Luna listens for a moment or two until the soft echo of a 'cluck' vibrates in her mind, startling her slightly. She knows that noise. She repeats it quietly in her own head β her tongue gently touching the roof of her mouth, silently sounding it.
Her head tilts, realisation dawning on her face. Peter has made those sounds before. He made them the first time they'd met. She's heard them since β could this be his thoughts she's hearing? But then... the noises β those aren't really Peter, she doesn't think. Something else, but certainly coming from him. The curse, she thinks quietly. Whatever plagues him, has seen plague him. Her gaze lifts towards him once more, eyebrows raising. ]
I think that's you. I can hear you. [ Perhaps they should test it out. The need to know, to confirm suspicions is a strong one. ] Think of a word, or a phrase. Anything you want.
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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 β 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 β 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" β 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 β she knows he's here; she spoke back to him β 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 β 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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She knows something is inside of Peter; knows something lurks in there, has looked at her and tried to reach for her before. But she has no idea of what it is, really β what kind of magic presence it truly is.
Now is not the time to go throwing herself into it, not when she's not sure what's going on between the two of them β how they can hear one another. Care... is needed. She isn't the steadfast and impulsive makings of a Gryffindor, after all. Her house favours caution in the face of new knowledge.
Her attention focuses back onto Peter, onto working out this strange communication between them. She watches him carefully as he considers for a moment and her eyes widen when his voice clearly rings inside of her mind β not quite as if he'd spoken aloud, more... intimate than that, somehow. Like a secret.
But she can't help but smile a little at him, making soft sounds of mirth at the words she hears. It's... a little silly, yes. But it works. She'd heard him. ]
I'm really hungry, too. [ At least she has her appetite back these days, as small as it is. She barely ate at all in her first week back from death.
Is this... some kind of Legilimency, though? It's the only word she knows for it, to look into another's mind. But it seemsβ seems shared. As if they both are Legilimens. Luna finds herself quite at ease with that wondering, inhaling and exhaling softly. Silently, she leans into him, resting easily against him β settling herself more comfortably. He's warm, the fabric of his rich clothing from the ship soft against her cheek. Itβ it feels safe.
She swallows slightly, concentrating for a moment β working to gently direct the words to him. ]
It's alright, though. I'd prefer to sleep first.
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Paimon feels her surprise β she's just as stunned by the awareness of connection between them as he is β and he lets go, almost as abruptly as he'd moved to greet her. The tether is still so new, so fresh, he doesn't know how to hold it in his hands just yet. He lets go, but not reluctantly β willingly. She'd known he was there, she'd spoken to him. Cluck.
This is.. something. Something to think on. Something to... approach, with caution as well. Paimon has waited and watched this entire time, inbetween those little moments of being able to reach out of Peter. It seems he's able to do that more and more these days but... he needs to be careful, too. He slips back, still warmed β a vibrating hum easing back into a comfortable place, lets Luna have only Peter again.
The odd fluttering exchange of emotions and presence between girl and demon remains largely unnoticed by Peter, only some of it leaking through to him, but like an after-thought. A phantom. What he's paying attention to now are the subtle shifts in Luna β some he can see in her face, and some he can... feel, behind her eyes. She smiles, and he can feel her smile in his mind as much as see the movement of her mouth.
Typical boy, thinking with his stomach. Peter grins again, but something else this time β a sort of cautious delight, eyebrows lifting. She'd heard him, heard exactly what he'd said. How is is possible...? But then, they've faced all sorts of impossible things together.
'It's alright, though. I'd prefer to sleep first.'
Soft as down, her voice is within him. A pressure, but not demanding. Not aching. Comfortable, gentle, warm. He nods, as carefully as possible so as not to move her at all where she rests against him, ear and cheek tucked to his chest. He's alright, too; the hunger isn't demanding right now. It's an emptiness he's grown almost accustomed to, he's fine with it. He's at ease.
Peter adjusts himself slightly, gently, and then goes still, sitting with his back against the wall and Luna in his lap. One arm lifts to find the thin blanket nearby, fingers drawing it over her petite frame and his arms settle back over her that way, tucking her in against himself, protective. He feels the fever-warmth of her skin, contrasted with the chill of her, and frowns softly to himself, but after a moment, exhales, slow and even, coaxing the anxiety out of himself. He has to make himself the most comfortable place for her. ]
Let's sleep, [ he agrees, tentatively trying it out again β easing his thoughts towards her. A soft smile touches the edges of his mental-smile, shy but warm. ]
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It's thoughts for another time, but ones that she won't let slip too far away from her. This is... important. Something more direct than brief flickers behind his eyes, or wild thrashing without any coherent thought. Her eyes glance down to the thread β what has it opened between them?
Luna purses her lips for a moment, thoughtful but then distracted by something else. She can feel a little anxiousness and she knows it isn't her own. Some quiet fear that doesn't belong to her β but slips through and gently fills the spaces in her mind for a brief moment. The presence isn't the only one who feels warmth β she's sure it's coming from Peter, too. That he's comforted to be here with her.
And she feels comforted in return, it seems to drift through them, a constant. Safe. That word seems to sound out again. She feels safe. Luna leans on that word, that feeling. Inhales it, draws it in to her and exhales it out to him β a soft whisper of emotion. It's sincere: she is safe.
He pulls the blanket over her. It's strange, this. A nice strange, despite its newness. She settles against him, muscles finally relaxing β there's little room for relaxing in this place. But... she can do it here, right now. Her body quietly aches for it: for rest, for dreamless sleep.
Peter speaks again and she exhales a breath, amusement in it. She... likes this. Some silent little secret between them, speaking like this β soothed by his voice in her head. ]
Thank you. [ It's soft, sleepy β a sigh that sounds more peaceful than she's been for some time now. Her thumb moves again, absently brushing against his knuckles of their clasped hands, the ones holding the strings between them.
It doesn't last long, the motion growing slower and slower as sleep inches closer. It's barely a few minutes before her breathing finally begins to even out into easy, shallow breaths β slipping into sleep. ]