deercountry | i've looked at clouds from both sides now (𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥)

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i've looked at clouds from both sides now (𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥)

^{Who: Peter Graham + you! Prompts will be placed here.
What: Canon update business, potential event things, tba.
When: Through the month of November.
Where: Various places in Trench / tba.

Content Warnings: This character comes with demonic possession by default. There's a gif including nudity (non-sexual, just a couple of people shown naked from behind) in one of the posts.}^{Additional warnings will be placed in individual spaces.}

^{( On Peter's birthday and Blessed Month, he will go through a canon update that's given him updated memories. For weeks 1 - 3 he will mentally be MIA, and Paimon/Charlie may be interacted with. On week 4, Peter will return. Closed starters will be placed under the appropriate posts. Please hit me up @ plot post / plurk / large bat#2354 / pm if you're interested in a starter / if you'd like to plot for the month! )}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hey, neither am I. As the saying goes, "a king may be a king all his life, but once a knight's enough for most men."

[A huff of laughter accompanies this-- it may be egotistical to laugh at one's own jokes, but Dito's been around enough serious-minded people to figure that he's the only one who would. The young man summons fire in his hand without any sort of fanfare or flashy magic, and Dito feels the warmth immediately begin to drape over him like a woolen blanket. He puts his hands up to the flames, letting out a soft sigh as feeling begins to creep back into his fingers.]

Mmn... worlds better.

[Dito's gaze flicks upward to the other man's, his gold eyes flickering in the light. There's something shrewd and calculating in his expression now.]

You're not human, are you? I mean, I know there are human magic users-- they were part of our army back home, matter of fact-- but I get the feeling that's not what's going on with you. Am I right?

( The demon stares more intensely at the laughter that comes with the words, curious, even if not quite understanding the nuance to the saying — that it's meant as a joke. But he understands laughter, sounds of mirth, and if the young man (or whatever his new companion truly may be) is making those sounds, it must mean he's amused.

Paimon can't quite smile, can't find the shape of it or work his vessel's features in certain ways, but something alights in his eyes. That black, glittering gaze brightens, especially as the other lifts his hands to warm them. The demon keeps the flame there, controlled and steady. Head turned to face Dito's, he takes in the sight of those golden eyes up close. No, those can't be an ordinary human's eyes. Not to be golden like that. And somewhere beneath the surface of this host body, his own eyes are just as golden. )

You are right. I am not human, although I live within one. ( He glances downwards for a moment, as though looking himself over, before dragging his eyes back up to Dito's. Though he knows to be careful what to reveal and how, he didn't come to this meeting with the thought to hide himself from this person. This is... an introduction, a real one, and so he'll reveal what he is. )

I am a demon, among other things. ( There are different words for what he is, but "demon" is the most simple. And speaking of knights and kings— ) I am a king of Hell. I am of Lord Lucifer.

( Whether that name will mean anything to his companion has yet to be seen... but he's looking him over carefully. )

You are also not human?

[A demon. A king of Hell. Dito's very familiar with those sorts of terms, though he's never had the privilege of meeting any in person. His brow furrows in an expression that is altogether skeptical, his head cocked curiously to the side as if in the process of puzzling something out.

There is something otherworldly about the young man standing before him-- fire conjuring notwithstanding, he speaks and carries himself as if he's unused to having a body in which to do so. Or in the wrong body, as the case may be.

Dito shrugs in response to the young man's question.]

Yes and no. It's complicated. I'm a disciple, and I'm not talking about those religious freaks you see roaming around this town. Back in my world, a disciple is someone chosen by a powerful witch known as an Intoner. We're endowed with superhuman abilities and resilience, molded to be the perfect servant.

[His lips curl in a sudden smirk.] Maybe not so perfect, in my case. I did kill my Intoner, after all.

( The demon's curiosity blossoms as the young man alongside him speaks, describes what he is — some terms are familiar and some are not, but the overall, encompassing concept of it.... an entity chosen by a powerful witch, an entity meant to serve.... Ahh.

He's quiet as he listens, keeping the flame there at a comfortable warmth for his companion. )

The one you spoke of mutilating. She was your Intoner.

( He says the word as easily as anything — mutilating — he has no weak stomach towards the idea. He is pleased that this being was able to get his vengeance on someone who abused their power over him, and perhaps some of that shows in the way the demon's mouth curls a little at the edges, and his eyes brighten as though with mirth. )

Was there any... consequence upon you for it? For killing this witch?

No. No, I wasn't punished for it. Hell, I probably built up so much karma from being smothered by her tits night after night that the universe decided to give me a break. Or something like that.

I don't really believe in that shit-- I figure you're in charge of carving out your own place in the universe. Even if it means carving up a few people in the process. Especially if it means that.

[The fire dances in Dito's eyes; casts eerie shadows on his otherwise pristine, youthful face, causing his smile to also glimmer unnaturally.]

So are you possessing that poor sap or is he just some corpse you're wearing like a full bodysuit? I know which one I'd prefer. [He winks.]

( There are rules to what King Paimon is. Ancient and sacred. To kill a witch in his world would be, should be, unthinkable. Something to his spirit does ripple uncomfortably, but only for a moment.

For the rules of himself have been twisted, and by witches themselves. He has been... mishandled, mistreated. Misused. The balance of his own universe made upset. For what was done to his spirit, order should be restored. If he ever finds those witches again, he will rip them apart. And as he quietly listens to this being, he truly can only feel a curling pleasure at the thought of her suffering by Dito's hand, an outcome that didn't end with consequence for a witch being killed. Good.

Paimon gazes back at the fire flickering in the reflections of the young man's eyes, the way it makes the gold of them burn brighter, hotter. Some may flinch back from the sharpness and the violence that laces the boy's words; the demon king is drawn closer. He slowly tilts his head to the other side, long neck bent. )

I am.... possessing it. Him. ( "Possession" is a term that still sits strangely against his tongue; it's rare he says it aloud. )

This Vessel was given to me. By witches of his world. ( Paimon's eyes cut back to the flame for a moment. ) They desired to.... keep me there. On Earth's plane. So that I may grant them things.

( A flicker of something white-hot and angry flashes across his own eyes. The flame swells a little, sparks with a crackle. )

I was to be kept caged.

[Dito stares brazenly into the demon's unnaturally glowing eyes, completely undeterred by his sudden anger from recalling undoubtedly unpleasant memories. That rage is something he knows all too well. He'd felt it numerous times, whenever the overfed harpy cooed his name or wrapped her arms around him or spoke in that irritatingly throaty voice that made him want to tear his ears off. He knows how hot the anger burns, how sometimes it was the only thing warming you when the chill of despair nipped at your psyche.

How sometimes it was the only thing that kept you sane.]

Being worshiped and loved [--the word is spoken with the utmost distaste--] doesn't mean squat when they're the same ones keeping you shackled. Believe me, I know.

I also notice that you talk about that time in the past tense. Did you kill them, those "followers" of yours? I hope you did. I hope it wasn't quick.

( 'Believe me, I know.'

It is..... nice, to be known. To be seen. It's the first time that Paimon's really encountered another whose experience is so similar to his own in some ways — although for Dito, it had been carried out further. This whole thing is like looking into a glimpse of what his own future might be like back in Peter's homeworld. Being... shackled, actively. )

My vessel awoke in the Dream, the one that came before this place, before I could punish them. Back in his home world, perhaps they have me.... shackled there. A captive to their desires.

( It's an extremely unpleasant thought, and that unnatural swollen black of his eyes deepens, inky voids set in the middle of a human face. )

However, I desire that they may come here. So that I may punish them. Restore balance. And it will not be quick.

( He uses the same words that Dito did, voice slow, tasting them. It will not be quick; he likes the way that sounds. Feels. It wouldn't be the first time he'd tormented something past its limits. He broke apart Peter's family from the inside out. But that was by the cult's command. This would be by his own. )

[Dito shivers, and this time it's not because of the cold. A pleased, self-indulgent smile is on his face now, as if Paimon had talked about a fun gathering or an entertaining play he had seen once.]

Oh, I have no doubt that you'd take your time. Make sure you let me know if that ever happens, yeah? I love a good display of karma.

[He shifts a bit, adjusting his hands in front of the fire as the heat begins to get uncomfortable. One of his fingers brushes the back of the demon's-- his vessel's-- hand, and Dito's expression doesn't give away whether or not it was accidental.]

What do you look like under there, by the way? When you're not wearing a "vessel", I mean. I'm assuming you have some sort of form of your own-- that's how possessions typically tend to go in my world.

( Rarely has Paimon seen such a reaction to concepts of punishment and prolonged pain. Apart from Darth Maul, most that Paimon know in this place would flinch away from such things.

But here, it is met with a reaction that turns physical, the young man shuddering as though the spark of it is a thrill that travels through his skin. Paimon is intrigued, especially by the request. To share his restoration of balance with another... Perhaps this is what things are like back in his home world, with his fellow demons. He was always meant to have companions. )

I shall. ( The words may be few, but there's a weight to them, a severity; he does not break his agreements.

Paimon glances down to his hand at the gentle brush of contact, giving a thoughtful hum at the words. He doesn't mind such questions; in fact, he likes them, the attention given to him, as a being that thrives on such things. )

My true form..... I am not certain how to describe it. I do not think most are capable of seeing it. ( It's something beyond a certain type of perception; on Earth's plane, he can only be perceived as what is essentially light, by those his spirit has touched upon. )

However, there are forms I enjoy taking, and I fashion them for myself. Humans have depicted them over time. ( He's frequently drawn in grimoires and other books in the same type of way. But Paimon pauses, as a thought comes. Rather than attempt to explain, there's an easier option. )

I could... show you. In here. ( A hand lifts, fingertips lightly grazing Dito's forehead. ) If you would like.

[Dito can't help it-- he flinches as Paimon's fingers reach out to his forehead. It's a small reaction, barely perceptible to someone whose attention wasn't completely centered on him, and his face is completely devoid of expression as he allows the demon to touch him.

It's not Paimon's fault. Dito has always been acutely aware of the mark of Five on his forehead, a brand that remains invisible until activated by his magic. He imagines he can feel it burning even when inert, a hideous scar that denotes him as her property. It was probably this mark that allowed her to control his actions and expressions for so long.

But she's dead now, right? Killed by his own hand. So there's really no point in having these sorts of reactions anymore. She can no longer control him, cut to pieces the way she is now.]

I'd like that. [It's said with more bravado than necessary, and there's a certain overabundance of caution that prompts him to add:] You're not going to be able to read my thoughts or anything, right? There's a lot going on in this sick mind of mine that's better left unearthed, you know what I mean?

( As much as his attention is fixated on the boy, the demon sees the flinch, feels it, subtle and brief, like a flutter of an insect's wings. The demon pauses, hand slowly pulling back, breaking contact by a few inches. At first, he thinks perhaps he's harmed him, but as Dito speaks again, he realises. It wasn't pain.

It was fear. Or, something adjacent — perhaps not an active fright, but something deep-rooted. An instinctual reaction. He has seen it, felt it, time and time again inside of Peter. His host flinches and shudders from so many things. Sometimes subtle, like this. Sometimes more outright, even violently.

He's staring at the boy very intensely, and then there's a soft shake of the head. )

I can not. Not unless you requested it of me.

( Technically, he can break into a mind, but that is.... an unnatural thing, something the cult had willed him to do. And so it goes beyond his usual rules, how he's meant to function for others. Not by force. )

I will only give to you. Not take. A... picture. Knowledge. It will not hurt. It will feel like a dream.

But only if you desire it. It is all right if you do not.

( Dito may have just said it was all right, but Paimon does want to make sure. His fingertips can still feel the sensation of the flinch. )

[Fuck. Of course he felt it. Dito curses his body for betraying him; for reacting to pain and injustices that had long ago become irrelevant. Shame runs hot in his bloodstream, and he finds he can't quite look in Paimon's eyes for fear of seeing pity there. Fuck this. Fuck her.

Dito grabs the demon's wrist before it can retreat too far, pushing his fingers once again against his forehead. It's a belligerent move, made only moreso by the aggressiveness in his voice.]

Did you not hear what I said? I said I wanted it. I'm made of sterner stuff than you give me credit for, Your Royal Hellness. So stop fuckin' pussyfootin' around and give me a show.

[His eyes are sharp and defiant. Don't you DARE fucking pity me, they say.]

( Paimon's eyes widen just slightly as the boy grabs his wrist, fingers forced back to his forehead. There's that anger again, and the demon, who is so sensitive to emotions, to energies, stares down to those eyes. Razor-sharp and challenging.

The demon king is not used to being challenged, and is not meant to be challenged, defied, spoken to so aggressively. Disrespectfully. It ripples unpleasantly against the spirit of himself, and something within him curls with an anger and a heat of its own. He goes very still, inhumanly so. Nothing moves, there is no breath from his vessel's lungs. His eyes swell impossibly black, two holes that threaten to swallow everything in front of them alive.

But the flash of displeasure begins to dissolve, quietly. This is no insolent child. This is an entity whose true age and species and composition Paimon has yet to truly learn. This is something that has known witches (and pain from them, and suffering). The boy's voice, energy, will not back down.

And so the demon king will match that energy, and he will not back down, either. He will provide what the boy demands. The passion for it intrigues him, the rawness of that anger. Humans are rarely so genuine with their emotions.

Paimon's fingers push forwards, splay across the boy's forehead. It's slow and gentle, but not hesitant. Still staring into the sharpness of Dito's eyes, he concentrates, wills his own energy to blossom and spread. And soon, Dito will feel hazy, perhaps pleasantly so — like being in the lulled aimless safety of a dream. Floating. Observing.

The demon conjures thoughts for him. Concepts more than anything static. A pulsing alien thing that transcends description but can be felt, brilliant light coalescing into iridescence, colours no human has seen. None of it hurts, not shared like this. This is only a projection of his spirit, not an actual exposure to it.

After a few moments, he changes it into something that has more form, almost becoming images, though still hazy and dreamlike. A figure sits proudly atop a humped animal with a long, slender neck — a dromedary camel. The figure's head is crowned in great horns and a sparkling golden crown. It's clearly a man, but its face is effeminate, lips bowed, soft. He is Lucifer's most beautiful king, and he knows that he is.

Other things may slip through into the vision, snippets of disconcerting inhumanness — scaled legs and clawed feet, a thin whipping tail. The shapes of those even change, though, into various types of claws and scales, sometimes feathers, an amalgamation of ideas. Humans have depicted him a number of ways, though all similar enough. None of this is his "true" form, but it is still a way to introduce himself.

Through everything is the feeling of something that has existed for a very long time, moving through the sand.

The "dream" will end as it began, hazy, gentle, the smoke rolling away and gradually clearing Dito's vision again. )

[As Paimon moves to once again touch Dito's forehead with one splayed hand, Dito feels the heady sensation of the demon's mind touching his own, like sinking into thick and tepid waters. The descent is gentle and pleasant, almost like being comfortably drunk, and yet he has to quell the instinct to rebel; to struggle against it like a body's involuntary response to dreams of falling. Paimon had told him that his mind could not be entered without permission, and Dito remembers something he'd read about demons-- how they, unlike humans, were incapable of speaking anything but truth.

Fractured images flash across his eyes, images of otherworldly beauty and animalistic hideousness both. The latter interests him much more than the former-- humans were infuriatingly anthropocentric when it came to their supernatural imaginings. A final image comes to him-- a humanoid figure with a beautiful mask hiding a gaping, cavernous maw deep with sharp teeth. The image lingers even as the mental link fades, like the spots that linger after one has looked at the sun too long. A golden unnatural glow seems to brighten his eyes, before he blinks and the light disappears.]

So you're a centuries-old demon in the body of some weak-looking kid. Seems like you got the short end of the stick, all told. Does he know you're in there? Why was he chosen?

( He slowly removes his hand, lowers it back to his side. Gives a long, slow exhale, feels his spirit shift and move within itself as though it, too, is taking a breath of air. It's been a very long time since he shared himself in this way — not as an object of terror, but simply being seen and known. As much as something like him can be, at least.

Even for Luna, whom he shares a literal demon-witch-bond with, he is careful with exposing himself, given past incidents and accidental pain inflicted upon the girl with his spirit. So this is... nice, to be able to stretch certain muscles, to reveal his spirit to someone else, even if it's only the concept of a thing, dreamlike. It's still an introduction that reaches deeper than trying to explain who he is, when he still struggles with such a thing. He feels pleased, and a spark of thrill. This is an important connection he's making. )

He knows of me, though it has taken.... much time for him to understand what I am. ( Paimon existed within the boy for nearly a year before Peter even so much as learned his name. It's been a long process. A difficult one. As he speaks, the demon adjusts the flame again, having noticed Dito pull back from it a few moments ago as though uncomfortable. It dies down into a much softer glow. As for why Peter was chosen... it's strange, complicated. Paimon is quiet for a few long moments before he responds. )

The People who summoned me... I was to be kept hosted within a specific bloodline. He was meant to be mine from his birth, but... he was kept from me, by his mother. I was placed within a temporary vessel until he could be removed from his mother, and made ready for me. Made vulnerable.

( Paimon glances down at himself, the body he lives within now. Contained, like a bird within a cage. )

He was not meant to.. remain. His spirit. But when we awoke in the place before this one, the Dream.... he stayed with me. He is weak, and he flinches from me still, but I desire to teach him to grow stronger. He grows older, and I will shape him.

[Dito can't imagine what it must feel like to share a body with another person. It was bad enough feeling Five's influence through his every facial expression; every forced pitch and cadence of his voice. If he had been made to actually feel her presence in his mind, he didn't know what he would have done. Gone insane, most likely. Or vomited copiously until his stomach ruptured. Anything would have been better than having her live inside him like a cancer.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts when he feels his face twisting in disgust, and once again thanks his lucky stars that he now has the freedom to make such expressions ("such unsightly faces", Five would have said, with that pout of disapproval that always made him want to drive his spear through her own face). Dito crosses his arms over his chest and tosses his head.]

Tch. Seems like a lot of work just to deal with a squatter. I would've just killed him first chance I got. Why bother trying to "shape" him? What does that get you?

( There's a small flicker of something like mirth to the demon's dark eyes. Oh yes, that is a very good question. He responds without hesitation, sorry not sorry, Peter. )

I intended and sought to be rid of him. I was nearly successful.

However..... when we arrived in the Dream, we found a powerful witch. She grew to feel love for him. And so she and I came to a deal. She became my witch, to work and grow with. In return, I would allow her to keep him. I would not swallow him whole. ( He glances back to Dito with a hum of thought. )

He is not as burdensome as he once was. There is much work to be done of him, but someday he will learn from me and assist me, as my human container. In this place... I will be more powerful if we function together. I must simply be patient...

( It has taken time, will take more time. The demon king is not one to rush, but his eyes flick back to Dito. He's willing to bet the mysterious child with the sharp teeth and claws would much rather take immediate action, and he almost smiles as he flicks his hand to summon that gold coin he promised all those months ago, holding it up to him. )

...for rewards will come once they have been promised, to those whom have waited.

( It's all so exuberant... but Paimon took that network post very seriously, and he's looking at Dito with what is meant to be Kingly Adoration. Unfortunately, given the alien intensity of that gaze and the offbeat curve of his mouth, it probably just looks like he's something particularly delicious that the demon wants to eat.... )

[There's something preternaturally savage in that expression, something that seems both strangely fitting and startlingly out of place upon that pretty, boyish young face. The discussion of love never failed to dry up any of Dito's libidinous thirst, but that look of hunger on the demon's face as he speaks of patience; of rewards long overdue...

Dito's tongue darts out to lick at suddenly dry lips. He suddenly realizes that he's unconsciously taken a step forward, close enough to feel the intoxicating heat radiating off of the demon's body. He wonders if it's the hellish power within the demon or merely the temperature of the body it currently resides in, and decides that it doesn't really matter. He reaches up to take the coin, feeling a delicious shiver pass through him as his fingers accidentally brush against Paimon's.

The disciple's voice is low and throaty when he finally replies, the offer leaving his lips before his brain can properly catch up.]

...Do you wanna get out of here? Out of this cold, I mean. My place is in Crenshaw, not far from the lamp. Or we could head back to your place, if you prefer.

( Paimon, ever-attentive to the subtle shifts and nuances to the other, sees it, perhaps also feels it — an intensity reflected right back. This entire interaction has been a perpetual force of intensity, of observing and learning one another, and there is much more to learn. But the important thing is that connection has been established, and it pleases the demon king so very much. It's important, even essential to how he functions.

When Dito steps closer to accept that coin, Paimon hums contentedly, eyes sparking again; oh, he can grant so much more than simple gold, but in this place, it's a start. It should be sufficient for Dito to barter with, or perhaps simply to keep as a trinket if he prefers. But there is more, so much more, to be given to those he becomes close with. And perhaps he is on that journey with this mysterious young man whom he has shared his spirit with.

The way the boy looks up to him, the brush of fingers, even the drop in his tone — Paimon perceives them all as Dito being affected by his presence, by what has transpired between them. Feeling the importance of everything just as much as Paimon is. A thrill shudders through him, one that feels like static electricity. He is being invited to spend time at one's abode, an important and respectable thing....! )

I should like to see your home. ( He practically purrs, making the fire he'd conjured vanish away into a little curl of black smoke, so that he can move with Dito. ) Do you live alone?

[Wait, that actually worked? This interaction's going better than he'd hoped. It's a testament to Dito's character and how his mind works that he immediately starts wondering about the logistics of copulating with a creature who's currently inhabiting someone else's body. He's read a bit about demonology and possession-- even fought with soldiers who were controlled by vengeful ghosts-- but to actually interact with such a phenomenon is a whole other beast entirely.

Was it possible for demons to exist outside a host's body, even for a short time? Or was it like a parasitic scenario where the demon would be sent back to wherever they'd come from? He supposes he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. The idea of forming a dalliance with such a creature is exciting, but not when it comes with a hanger-on like this pathetic looking kid.

He answers Paimon's question as they begin to walk in the direction of the lantern.]

Yeah, I live alone. No roommates to bother us or anything like that. I guess you'd know all about how irritating that is, yeah?

( Paimon's all too happy to fall into step, sweeping quietly alongside his new companion. There's another head-tilt at that, the demon taking a few long moments to consider the words. Irritating roommates....? Oh— )

—You mean my Vessel. ( He Gets It, after a few moments of thinking about it, and gives a soft sound that's almost a sigh. ) It is... difficult, to share space with him. We are very different. He does not take care with things.

However.... my Witch also lives with us, and she has helped me to establish my own space, to keep my things. It is... up high. I can show you some day.

( But back to roommates... if Peter is a problem, then Luna is the complete opposite, and he's glowing as he speaks more about her. )

My Witch is not at all irritating. I enjoy living with her. We spend... much time together. Reading. Making things. Do you like making things?

[Dito can't imagine sharing a body with someone else; being locked in the recesses of their mind until you could occasionally take control. Nor does he really want to-- having every bit of his personal space occupied by Five at any given moment was torture enough. If she'd had access to his thoughts, it would have been a fate worse than death.

Dito shivers again and draws his coat tighter around himself.]

Depends on what you mean by "making things." I know how to make an edible meal, and I'm pretty good at mending clothes and things like that. I'm more of a destroyer than I am a creator, though. Unless you count creating chaos. Which I do.

[He flashes a smirk in the demon's direction-- from what little he knows about the concept of hell, chaos is exactly what Paimon's type is acclimated towards.]

( A destroyer rather than a creator.... chaos. Paimon catches that glint to the boy's mouth. Oh, he certainly knows of chaos. But for him it is a cycle, requires a certain stability. His spirit is formed from the essence of chaos itself — discordant and loud, brass and percussion and wailing. His true voice is a roar that must be softened for his summoners, or else it may destroy them.

But he is also a being of creation, inclined towards and supportive of those in the Arts as much as the Sciences. People have come to him over time for assistance, for strength: for music, painting, singing like a bird. All things in creativity. His spirit shines for them. )

Creating chaos is an art form in itself. ( He sounds amused as he says it, almost jovial. ) However... there are things like the painting, and the instruments. Taking things apart and... reshaping them. ( He makes dolls out of anything he can find, has a magpie's collection of little bits and baubles to be used.

But he'd caught that shudder, and while he'd conjure another flame, it may be dangerous to carry it along with them, even if hovering in the air. )

You are cold, again. You may have my Vessel's clothing, if you wish.

( Just offering Peter's coat like this, sorry not sorry Peter...... but Paimon's seen him do it for Luna when she gets cold... )

[The sudden weight of the coat around Dito's shoulders startles him out of his reverie of chaos and destruction. Dito jerks slightly in surprise, his feet stuttering in their stride. The unexpected warmth enveloping him, caused by the demon's-- the vessel's-- residual body heat, causes another shudder to run through him. Whatever he had planned on contributing to the conversation flees back to the recesses of his mind.]

Hey. I ain't a charity case, all right? If I wanted some willowy milksop's clothing I'd just ask-- [It suddenly occurs to him that he doesn't know enough people around here for that descriptor to apply, and he finishes lamely:] I'd just ask, got it? I'm made of sterner stuff than most people give me credit for. I'm not weak.

[Despite his rough words he doesn't turn his head to look at Paimon, and appears to have no intention of shrugging the coat off or giving it back. Damn his weakness for creature comforts.]

i've looked at clouds from both sides now (𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥)

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(cw: vague mentions of sexual abuse)

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AAA.... my canonblind ass literally touching upon Dito's Bad Spot :')

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(cw: vague mention of eye injuries)

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