deercountry | Chrollo Catch All

Entry tags:

Chrollo Catch All | February [Open]

Who: Chrollo, & others
What: Various February happenings
When: All month
Where: Around Trench
Warnings: None in main post; Will be added to comments as needed

Wait For Me; backdated to the end of January

A month since Chrollo washed up from the sea, it was time for more Sleepers to come ashore. He had no interest in helping any wayward soul who happened to need a hand, so he lingered further back and let those with an interest in such things greet new arrivals.

The only people Chrollo cared to see were his own. If one of the Troupe washed ashore, he didn't want to miss their arrival. There was also a chance that a squid could take on a less than friendly face. Being unable to permanently kill them was a hindrance, but knowing sooner rather than later would still be better.

Wrapped up to wait out the cold, Chrollo watched, and waited. The sudden feeling of stiffness was a surprise, there was no obvious source of it. Soon, he couldn't move at all. There was no apparent source of danger, as the twelve legged spider omen on his shoulder remained small but visibly agitated. It looked like he'd be waiting longer than expected.

You Take My Breath Away

After the past month, Chrollo was becoming accustomed to the sudden onset of effects with no obvious source. Suddenly being unable to breathe was still surprising enough that Chrollo reached up to his throat to reassure himself there was nothing around his neck. Even though he hadn't anticipated holding his breath, he still had at least a few minutes before the situation was going to become desperate.

A nearby commotion made it obvious he wasn't the only one struggling, and as soon as he caught sight of someone else visibly struggling to breathe he was hit with a sudden need to reach that person.

As far as coercive abilities went, Chrollo didn't have much experience with being on the receiving end of them. But he didn't have many options, and the only risk was to himself. Without giving it more thought than that, Chrollo made his way over and reached out.

Speed Dating

Chrollo Lucilfer, emotionally unavailable and married to his work. He enjoys reading, acquiring antiques (especially books), spending time with his friends, and exploring the darkness in other people's souls.

Chrollo has never done regular dating, much less the 'fast' variety where you're given only a few moments to get to know someone. As far as ordeals go, he's had a much milder time with this month than the previous one even with his odd run of bad luck.

He knows the motions to go through well enough, he's met people and 'hit it off' to get close to them when a situation required it and he's stolen more than one priceless artifact or ability that way.

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"I don't know much about it. Him." Peter admits. His family were never religious — his father, a psychiatrist and a man of science; his mother, whose side of the family had their own... odd beliefs, rituals. She always seemed afraid of them. Peter never had much interest in looking to anything spiritual.

The name was his mother's choice, and he's wondered before why it was that one.

He's listening with a strange bated breath, afraid to hear the words but needing to all the same. When that shock comes — and Peter blinks, startled no matter how many times he's seen it or felt it happen to himself. Brow knit, he swallows, disturbed by the concept. Visibly disturbed further by the response that finally comes.

".....The Devil," he says after an odd pause, voice barely above a whisper. There are things he could ask, and the man would have to respond honestly — are you the Devil? He's afraid to, doesn't want to. He shudders against Paimon, an ancient ghost that presses its cold fingers up under him, yearning to be closer, to learn more.

Peter's fingers curl into his palms, and he lowers his hands down into his lap. He won't ask if this man is Him, but he at least confirms—

"That's what it means?"

"Yes, that's exactly what it means." Belief has never offered much to Chrollo, the only part of it he held onto is believing in the existence of souls. That part is comforting when little else is, and now he has more or less confirmed that souls exist, so that's not really a belief anymore but a fact.

"Is that why you're afraid?"

Peter couldn't lie even if he wanted to. He can't suppress the visible reaction, the fear to it. The Devil... the entity, the concept, all of it, terrifies him. Everything about it.

And as much as it terrifies him, something in him is drawn to it. Paimon is meant to be with The Devil. Longs to return to his side.

"Yeah." It comes out sounding much younger than his true age, and for a moment he feels like a little kid. Dark eyes sweep down to stare at his hands, unable to look up at this stranger and whatever he truly might be.

"Back home, in my world... I didn't think things like him really existed. I was wrong."

"The world is always much larger than people realize. You used to not believe, what changed your mind?" Chrollo will be disappointed if it's a simple matter of coming face to face with evil or magic mistaken for something more.

Humanity's capacity for cruelty and malice knows no bounds without the need for any external influence.

It's a complicated question, or maybe it's not the question itself that is, but the answer to come. There's different ways to answer it, even to shape it so that technically nothing is a lie. He could get around the real truth of things.

...But what's the point? There was a time Peter tried so desperately to hide all of it. Now...? It's not acceptance, not really. It's more... giving in.

Even so, he knows he needs to be... careful. Around this person especially, maybe. Assuming this man can't already sense what's in him — Peter has no idea what he might be capable of.

"...There was this.... cult, back home. I didn't know what they were. They just looked like... normal people." He's staring down at his hands, fingers tugging gently at the ends of his jacket sleeves.

"But they worshiped something... ancient. A demon. Later I found out that he's one of Lucifer's kings." A pause as he drags his nervous gaze back up to Chrollo's eyes, watches to see if there's any hint of... recognition for such an idea.

It's not enough for Chrollo to tell if it's real or simply human malice and cult worship. He's seen all kinds of men and beings receive such a following. Whatever Peter saw must have convinced him. There's also something strange going on that he can't quite place.

"They were angels, once," Chrollo muses, at least that's how it goes in his own world. The ancient texts don't always agree on what kind of angel they were, everything from dominion to cherubim. "Who chose to follow. Did you meet the one they worship?"

"I've.. heard that too. The angel thing. There's so much about him... he's known as so many things." A fallen angel, a god, even a goddess... sometimes a djinn, sometimes something else entirely. To Peter, the implication is horrific: Paimon is a type of entity that's been around so long and been perceived in so many different ways. He's... so much. And there's something like that, fucking locked inside of him.

The young man shudders again.

"Yeah." A hesitance, strained. He can still feel Paimon pressing within him, a light that threatens to overwhelm. Peter knows the demon will make itself known, one way or another; his back is against the wall. There's really no other choice than to say it, though he's careful and guarded, waits to see how this mysterious stranger (Lucifer....?) might react. "He's— ....inside of me. They put him inside of me."

Chrollo isn't quite certain how to interpret the comment that this entity has been put inside Peter. Parasitic nen beasts are a thing he's heard of, but not encountered himself. Those tend to not be a separate entity the way the being Peter describes is, and he doubts there's an easy parallel in his field of experience.

But he is undeniably and visibly interested. It explains the odd ripples in Peter's aura. There's nothing, mortal or immortal, that Chrollo truly fears. His fears are more abstract, and in Trench they are out of reach. So he's free to indulge his curiosity.

"And yet, you're still afraid of even my name even with someone like that inside you," Chrollo muses. People respond to fear and tragedy in so many ways, but running away is a common one. Clearly, Peter hasn't moved on to the others even though he's well past the point where running away would've done him any good. Chrollo can't decide it that makes him resilient to still be at that point instead of just being numb to the fear, stupid, or both. "You can just call me Chrollo if it's too much for you. You can't say his name either, can you."

Peter's waiting, watching — tense and drawn into himself, to see how this person reacts to everything he says. There's no outward hostility, though he's certain he's gotten the man's interest, which is.... unsettling in itself. (And again, Peter knows there is no other choice. He knows that it was probably only a matter of time before Paimon made connection with things like this man anyway, the way the demon has time and time again.)

He sits there, uncomfortable in the face of whatever scrutiny the man has of him, mouth held in a soft frown. He is. He's afraid of the man's name — and the offer to call him Chrollo is met with a surprised glance back upwards, some sweep of relief.

"No," he admits, breathes out the word like a confession, almost ashamed. He is afraid of names, of Lucifer's, and Paimon's, and all of the other names he's so reluctantly read about. "His name... there's power in it. Saying it can make him come out." And it's how things make contact with Paimon, strengthen the energy of him.

"...But he knows you're here. I can... feel him." The young man shifts, fingers twitching oddly every once in awhile, like spider's legs reaching out, seeking.

"It doesn't work like that where I'm from, though there are some people who think it does," Chrollo says. Centering an ability around saying a name would be too difficult, even if names are often used as part of a set of conditions to fulfill.

A demon who knows he's here, and if the twitchy movements and nervous behavior are any indication, wants to come out and say hello.

"He wants to come out, doesn't he." It probably works more like a manipulator's ability than a nen beast of any kind. Chrollo can understand why Peter's reluctant if that's the case.

Peter tenses at the question that isn't really a question; there's no use trying to pretend otherwise. And truthfully, Paimon could come out whenever he wants to, could tear his way from Peter at any second. The fact he's hesitating.... clawing but not tearing through just yet, twitching and restless and on the brink of it.... could it be that he's waiting for permission from this being? Or maybe he's waiting for the opportune moment, maybe energy has to be met halfway — the demon's reasoning, functioning, is often lost on Peter.

He just sits there in his discomfort, fingers and limbs and blood pulsing, giving a soft, sudden little gasp. His pupils are strange again, swelling and contracting like two sucking black mouths. The energy to the air is uncomfortable, a chill that sweeps to the bone, and that odd static crackle.

"—Yes. H-he wants to."

But still, Paimon doesn't come through, not fully, stays there on the precipice, and Peter gives a soft, pained whine in the back of his throat. The demon will wait for the man (the thing that is not simply a man) to guide him one way or another. If encouraged to reveal himself, he will. If Chrollo Lucilfer does not, the demon will slip back away. It waits, hungry for direction either way.

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Chrollo Catch All | February [Open]

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