That's actual gold. The child has only seen it maybe twice in his life, flaunted by the obscenely wealthy in their silks and brocades.
He's careful about trusting it, taking the coins almost gingerly before closing his eyes, and pressing them with his thumb. There is no scent of leaves or stone, just the faint gleaming oily scent of precious metal.
...So it's not an illusion.
The coins vanish into his sleeve and he passes the two bottles Paimon selected into his hands.
"Onii-san paid a bit too much," understatement of the year, "and I cannot make change. But in turn, I will show you something good."
If he was human, it wouldn't be a problem. He could just take the gold from someone who clearly doesn't know the value of things and run. But the child isn't human, and that means there are things written in blood and bone and things older than stone that compels him to square any debt, real or otherwise.
He packs away his bottles and cloth in a grubby little sack before gesturing for Paimon to follow.
The demon is silent and still as he watches the child examine the coins, patient and then pleased when they earn approval. A demon king giving out gold without being explicitly asked for it is not... entirely how his type of entity functions, but this place has bent and warped and reshaped certain rules. In many ways he is a trapped thing. In other ways, he has become more free.
He's ready to conjure more coins if needed, but this seems to be enough — more than enough, apparently, and Paimon finally blinks with curiosity (well, it's sort of a blink, more of a half-flutter of the eyelids; working a human face is still weird). Something good...? Oh, he's extremely excited to see this for himself, reaching to gently tuck the potion bottles into his bag, safely nestled inbetween the other items.
With that, he moves to follow the mysterious thing, head dipped and eyes alive and aware with a certain brightness. The concept of exchange is at the very root of his functioning, at the core of what he is, ancient and sacred. If the child needs to give him something to make up a difference, then he will certainly follow that — and he's driven by a sparkling curiosity to see what it may be.
no subject
That's actual gold. The child has only seen it maybe twice in his life, flaunted by the obscenely wealthy in their silks and brocades.
He's careful about trusting it, taking the coins almost gingerly before closing his eyes, and pressing them with his thumb. There is no scent of leaves or stone, just the faint gleaming oily scent of precious metal.
...So it's not an illusion.
The coins vanish into his sleeve and he passes the two bottles Paimon selected into his hands.
"Onii-san paid a bit too much," understatement of the year, "and I cannot make change. But in turn, I will show you something good."
If he was human, it wouldn't be a problem. He could just take the gold from someone who clearly doesn't know the value of things and run. But the child isn't human, and that means there are things written in blood and bone and things older than stone that compels him to square any debt, real or otherwise.
He packs away his bottles and cloth in a grubby little sack before gesturing for Paimon to follow.
no subject
He's ready to conjure more coins if needed, but this seems to be enough — more than enough, apparently, and Paimon finally blinks with curiosity (well, it's sort of a blink, more of a half-flutter of the eyelids; working a human face is still weird). Something good...? Oh, he's extremely excited to see this for himself, reaching to gently tuck the potion bottles into his bag, safely nestled inbetween the other items.
With that, he moves to follow the mysterious thing, head dipped and eyes alive and aware with a certain brightness. The concept of exchange is at the very root of his functioning, at the core of what he is, ancient and sacred. If the child needs to give him something to make up a difference, then he will certainly follow that — and he's driven by a sparkling curiosity to see what it may be.