( There are layers to all of it, and so too, to his own hurt. There's so much to mourn — and in such strange ways. Emotion wrenching at him the way it does; he isn't truly meant to experience human emotion this particular way, and he can't quite process it. And it's through too many people, that he feels, that he aches. The losses of the humans in his life, how they were so many different roles to him. (They were pawns. They were family. "Cruel" is the word Luna uses, and it is the only word that can be used for what was done. He wants to cry out, and for a moment— to let his own anger come out in full-force, to find something to direct it to.)
But he sits there trembling instead, face wet and cold. And the word... the name... uttered from her lips as Luna begins to cry; 'Charlie' — hearing it aloud makes him shudder more violently, abrupt all of a sudden. The child, the child is still the strangest part amongst all of the strange parts, and he can't....... deal with it too much in the here and now. He can't sift through those Truths, not yet, not the way they need to be sifted through.
So he just sits there in silence as Luna cries, quietly voicing aloud more of her pains, more of the cruelty that was done. She reaches for his face to cup it, and he finally looks back up into her eyes, the wet grey pools. He is supposed to protect her, but he is the cause of why she cries now. Essentially, he is — it was wrong, to be given this body, but it happened, and now he is here, and Peter is not. His eyes continue to leak, and it is unpleasant and frightens him, how he cannot control them, cannot stop them.
The demon stares at her as she asks the question, and then it is his turn to slowly reach up to the witch's face in return. Fingertips shaking, unsteady, he finds her cheeks and holds, apologetic, upset. He does not want to answer. )
.......I do not know. If he is still.... inside, I do not know.
( He's tried, in the spaces when he's more like himself again and able to; he's reached for Peter's spirit, tried to find it within the deep oceans of himself, but..... )
....There are whispers. Echoes. Of... things. ( Things absorbed from so many hosts, from the pieces he'd absorbed and scraped deeply into; there are so many ghosts. But his host's spirit is different from those, it is an entire soul, a person. He would know it through the strangeness of everything else imprinted within this body. It's true that Peter's spirit has "disappeared" before, gone into such a deep state of sleep that it's as though it's vanished — so perhaps it may stir again, but as of now.... )
....I can not feel him.
( She looks to his heart, and there is a beat, and he can feel that. He can feel blood pumping through him — strange blood in this place, glittering — and he can feel everything to this body. But it feels as though it is only that. A body, a heart. Skin, organs; a shell, a container. )
But if he is still here.... ( Gently, the demon reaches for one of her hands, places it to the front of his chest, against the pulse of his heart. )
....then it may help him, to know you are close. To feel your...... love.
( It's still a strange word for him to voice aloud. His wet eyelids flutter softly, and his other hand gently strokes against Luna's cheek the same way she has for him. Quietly offering support of his own through this (whatever this truly is, whatever it may become.... if that may be permanent loss, and grief). At least for this moment, he's able to become something more like himself — as he eases from being comforted to comforting her. It may not last, he may become strange and broken and small again, too soon. But for this moment.... he will hold her, and his thumb imitates her gesture, slowly brushing back against the girl's cheek with an aching affection. )
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But he sits there trembling instead, face wet and cold. And the word... the name... uttered from her lips as Luna begins to cry; 'Charlie' — hearing it aloud makes him shudder more violently, abrupt all of a sudden. The child, the child is still the strangest part amongst all of the strange parts, and he can't....... deal with it too much in the here and now. He can't sift through those Truths, not yet, not the way they need to be sifted through.
So he just sits there in silence as Luna cries, quietly voicing aloud more of her pains, more of the cruelty that was done. She reaches for his face to cup it, and he finally looks back up into her eyes, the wet grey pools. He is supposed to protect her, but he is the cause of why she cries now. Essentially, he is — it was wrong, to be given this body, but it happened, and now he is here, and Peter is not. His eyes continue to leak, and it is unpleasant and frightens him, how he cannot control them, cannot stop them.
The demon stares at her as she asks the question, and then it is his turn to slowly reach up to the witch's face in return. Fingertips shaking, unsteady, he finds her cheeks and holds, apologetic, upset. He does not want to answer. )
.......I do not know. If he is still.... inside, I do not know.
( He's tried, in the spaces when he's more like himself again and able to; he's reached for Peter's spirit, tried to find it within the deep oceans of himself, but..... )
....There are whispers. Echoes. Of... things. ( Things absorbed from so many hosts, from the pieces he'd absorbed and scraped deeply into; there are so many ghosts. But his host's spirit is different from those, it is an entire soul, a person. He would know it through the strangeness of everything else imprinted within this body. It's true that Peter's spirit has "disappeared" before, gone into such a deep state of sleep that it's as though it's vanished — so perhaps it may stir again, but as of now.... )
....I can not feel him.
( She looks to his heart, and there is a beat, and he can feel that. He can feel blood pumping through him — strange blood in this place, glittering — and he can feel everything to this body. But it feels as though it is only that. A body, a heart. Skin, organs; a shell, a container. )
But if he is still here.... ( Gently, the demon reaches for one of her hands, places it to the front of his chest, against the pulse of his heart. )
....then it may help him, to know you are close. To feel your...... love.
( It's still a strange word for him to voice aloud. His wet eyelids flutter softly, and his other hand gently strokes against Luna's cheek the same way she has for him. Quietly offering support of his own through this (whatever this truly is, whatever it may become.... if that may be permanent loss, and grief). At least for this moment, he's able to become something more like himself — as he eases from being comforted to comforting her. It may not last, he may become strange and broken and small again, too soon. But for this moment.... he will hold her, and his thumb imitates her gesture, slowly brushing back against the girl's cheek with an aching affection. )