pieces of body and fractions of self

[possessum]

<sup>Who: Peter Graham (possessum) + various
What: catch-all.
When: end of March + April.
Where: various places in Trench.

Content Warnings: Character comes with a default demonic possession warning, others to be added in.</sup>

Comments

( 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 ) — luz & luca

[possessum]

King Paimon is still such a strange, lost thing in so many ways. Yet over time in this place, he has been regaining his truest self, finding the shape of it again. And at the very core of himself, he is a teacher, one meant to guide and assist those who practice magic. It's been his role for so many ancient years; it lives there within his spirit. To his delight, he's found young ones interested in what he can offer, and he has been forging connection with them. Helping them with their studies, with magic and alchemy, with what secrets this universe has to offer. Reading, exploring, experimenting.

He has been enjoying his time with the young witch Luz and the young sea nymph Luca, and when the idea to take them on a "fieldtrip" of sorts bubbled into fruition, Paimon couldn't be more thrilled.

And so, after packing some supplies and making arrangements, Paimon meets his students and heads off towards the Trenchwood on a warm afternoon. They're an odd little procession: a demon, a witch, a sea monster, and.... a camel. The dromedary can carry supplies for them and serve as a mount if anyone needs a rest from walking. The creature, tall and proud, is led from a thin rope by Paimon, who walks alongside it. Every so often, black smoke uncurls from its nostrils and eyes; the camel is just as otherworldly and ancient as its owner, and something with an odd energy. Perhaps a little intimidating to stand beside, but it's gentle with the pair of teens, occasionally sniffing at their hair or giving them a lick with its strong tongue. (Sorry for any cowlicks, guys.)

Paimon has carefully planned the trip so that it will align the right way. They visit Ache first, when the afternoon is a soft glow. There, they spend some time collecting herbs and spices, things that can be used in the potions or other concoctions that Luca and Luz may be studying about most recently. A being of old witch magic, Paimon is happy to demonstrate exactly what certain ingredients can be used for — conjuring illusions of the end products so they can see for themselves what they will look like when they mix things back home.

By the time they're finished in Ache, bags filled with items, it's become dark, the moon full and swollen. And that's truly what Paimon has been waiting for, heading out with the children to the Salt Lake not far away. As they draw near, the beautiful pink water becomes clear, sparkling and so full of its healing energy. The demon king breathes in the feel of it, then turns towards the two, attentive. He has a few activities planned, but first....

"Is anyone hungry? Perhaps a break, and something to eat, before we begin our studies here?"

Paimon doesn't really care for eating, but he's aware that he has two growing young people on hand who might need to refuel.... There are fish in the lake, mushrooms growing along its shores, and he's also brought some supplies from home — jerky, granola, some bread and cheeses. A little lakeside picnic would be nice, wouldn't it?

[imaglyphwitch]

Lus is absolutely thrilled for this day! It had been some time since she and Luca had spent some time together (outside of a Trench fiasco), and to become essentially a classmate alongside him was an interesting change! While Paimon took the reins, Luz was happy to come along and observe, just so she had an idea of how a day of learning went. She was happy to hang back with the camel, so of course Luz had several cowlicks that she sported proudly! Owlbert was flying overhead in case Luz needed him, and Tempest weaved in and out of the group, also enjoying their leisurely pace.

It wasn't all just taking in the picnic, of course. Luz had luckily gotten some basics about herbs, so some things were old hat and some were new, which Luz eagerly jotted down and stored the items appropriately. She made sure to text Lexi of course, but Luz mostly was lost in the feeling of being out and learning more about what concoction made what, and asking questions when she was curious.

All in all, Luz was taking in more this time, similarly curious as to how Luca took in information.

Once it was nightfall, Luz felt her excitement rise a bit: overtime, Luz found she was more of a night owl anyway, even though her job demanded her attention, so she couldn't go roaming all the time. When she had the chance, she did like it, and today lit a few small light glyphs that gave them small light.

When Paimon asked about food, Luz did feel her stomach gurgle, and she nodded. She turned to Luca.

"Wanna see if you can nab us a few fish, and I'll descale and prep it for us?"

[schoolingfish]

Luca is excited for this lesson and fully engaged with everything Paimon teaches them, asking a million questions about each of the herbs and spices they pick and doing his best to commit all the answers to memory. He watches with giddy delight whenever Paimon creates an illusion to demonstrate something, before launching into his next inquiry. As they walk to new areas the camel sometimes licks his hair, which automatically makes his hair turn into fins before it slowly changes back to hair as it dries.

He's too focused on everything he's learning to even think about food...until Paimon mentions taking a break to eat, and he realizes he's starving. At Luz's suggestion that he catch some fish, Luca nods.

"All right. Be right back!"

That certainly will be easy enough for him. He goes to the Salt Lake, appreciating how beautiful it is under the full moon, before stripping down to the swim suit he's wearing under his clothes and jumping in, instantly transforming into his sea monster form as he hits the water.

[possessum]

The demon looks from one child to the other, delighted by their enthusiasm, and their plan to work together. There's a deep importance to teamwork and camaraderie, to energy combined to strengthen. Both Luz and Luca are skilled on their own, but together....? They can accomplish much, he has no doubt about that. He's already been observing their friendship with one another, something that's clearly been forged over time.

With a pleased nod to them both, Paimon will then turn to his dromedary, reaching to unpack things from its back and start arranging. Peter's telescope from home has been brought along, but the demon sets that aside for the moment; he has plans for it soon. In the meantime, he unrolls a large, thick blanket, laying it out on the ground. Upon it, he sets out a few small throw pillows that can be sat upon for comfort, as well as containers of the snack items, and some fresh water.

There's also a kettle set aside (he has plans for that, too). The demon arranges everything very neatly and meticulously, before moving to sit on one of the pillows, long legs folded inwards. Reaching for some of the fruit he'd brought along, he begins to peel apple slices, occasionally tossing one to the dromedary.

As he works, he looks up towards the lake as he hears Luca swimming around in there, before his head slowly turns towards Luz.

"The two of you work well together. It is a good partnership."

( 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 )

[possessum]

— mob

[possessum]

( Peter is, assuredly, not having a great time in Mob's body right now — wherever he's wandered off to. Paimon isn't concerned with that. No, he has his own things to worry about at the moment....

For the demon has found himself now sharing his host body with someone else's consciousness, and of course that someone is Mob, whom he isn't exactly on spectacular grounds with. Really, he's mostly curious by the boy, but there's also the fact that Mob is an exorcist and also that Paimon had a bit of an upset with whatever cacophonous force of power was piloting the boy's body not long ago... they haven't talked about it. It's awkward. He's not sure he wants to be here.

He stays silent for a long time after the initial switch, observing, waiting. But Mob may be able to feel something of him — because the way he occupies Peter's body is as something that's too much. He's too much light, sound, static; he's glittering gold and brilliant white-hot. He can temper himself down, and he does now, trying to stay lowkey, but it's impossible to make himself truly invisible. He's there. He watches, something eyeless but everywhere. At times, Mob might feel a prickling sensation, and a soft whisper, a chill behind his eyes and under his skin, a ghost moving around. On occasion, a cluck-sound might echo in his mind. With this body and its wrongness also comes other unfavourable symptoms that might rear up here and there: nausea and cold sweats and fatigue, aches of the bones and muscles — chronically on the cusp of something flulike.

But if Mob does take notice of him and tries to speak to him, the demon won't respond. Not yet. Not for some time. It's only after a few hours have passed that he finally does, mentally addressing him from the inside. )

CHILD. DO YOU HEAR ME? IF YOU CAN — SPEAK.

[centile]

[the whole body swapping thing is weird. like trench weird, which is basically normal in terms of what happens on the day to day, but it's hard to take comfort in that when he was sunny for a while, jun. peter now. he has facial hair. it's itchy, he doesn't really like it if he's honest. the being taller is kind of nice though.

then there's the not being bogged down by cosmic powers, but given the body he just switched with isn't exactly empty well... that's complicated too.

the weird thing is that shuddering too much too bright too loud is almost comforting. maybe living in a maelstrom made silence more uncomfortable than earsplitting noise, but compared to being in jun or sunny's body mob feels- it's not as empty, not as unsettling. not wholly unfamiliar, like a chasm. just mostly unfamiliar, foreign to the static and fullness he's used to, moving with more purpose than he's used to.

paimon, he figures. the demon he does try to talk to once or twice before deciding either paimon was shy or kind of dramatic. both seemed to fit what he knew of the demon, which isn't much.

(he hopes peter doesn't feel like this so often though, that flu-like tug, the ache and fatigue. the people who did this to them, to paimon and peter, he thinks they're especially cruel.)

he's taking a slow walk through the trench, trying to be careful since it's peter's body and not his. he's thinking about maybe getting some icecream, there's a little shop and the weather is warming enough for it. then paimon speaks.

he blinks. peter's face completely devoid of expression is probably something to see.] Hi Paimon. [ah, he probably shouldn't say that outloud. probably wouldn't be fun for peter if people saw him speaking to himself on the street.

so, he tries thinking it pointedly.] I was going to get some icecream. Do you want some?

[possessum]

( Truthfully, Paimon doesn't know how the child might react to him now that he's addressing him. This is..... strange. He isn't meant to share space with another's consciousness, which is part of the huge problem with Peter.... but they've formed something of a dynamic, which is mostly that Peter doesn't speak to him and is afraid of him.

But Mob.... doesn't seem to be. The boy even greets him by name, which is something that Peter has literally never done. He doesn't know where they stand with one another, what might come of this. The demon's a little taken aback, tensing up, that static prickling with little pops and sparks. He almost has to wonder if the child is mocking him, by saying his name so easily. Perhaps it's a lack of respect. Perhaps he means to try and control him—

'I was going to get some icecream. Do you want some?'

................................. )

WHAT

( 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 )

[possessum]

^{CW / INFO: cultists, stalking, Paimon will be doing A Gruesome Murder in some of these (feel free to poke me for specific plotting or anything you might want to avoid!) Cool with prose or brackets 🤘}


THE LEADER
It's a nightmare, he thinks, because it's one he's had again and again.

There's a woman there, and she's calling his name as though it's the only thing that matters, gentle but desperate in her need to have him see her. To catch his attention. To catch him. "Peter! Peter!"

He's lived this nightmare before, and he stands there in a fog, and then he feels his heart beating too hard and too heavy and too real, and he can feel a soft breeze brushing through his hair and hear the city around him, and he realises that he's staring into the opening mouth of something strange, a space that widens further, revealing more of what's inside of it — a portal, a doorway.

This is not a nightmare.

The woman's voice is gaining an edge. Harsher, more upset. Angry in her upset, in her desperation. "Peter!!" Her face twists, mouth opening wider. Her voice becomes a shout, demanding. She grips her skirts with tight, white knuckles.

"PETER! COME HERE NOW! COME TO ME!"

He's frozen, and then he's falling, he thinks, body suddenly loose, emptied out, hollow. He feels himself hit the ground, and the woman's still shouting at him, voice rising in pitch, a scream. The portal isn't wide enough for her to get through; she's kept on the other side. But she's tethered to him, and has been, and always will be. She worships the thing inside of him; she is the one who completed Queen Leigh's desire, the new leader of the cult, the one who freed Paimon from his former host and guided him to take his new one. Vulnerable, vulnerable, the ritual was completed and the vulnerable male vessel was filled with His light, and yet— the boy remains. The boy has fled, somehow, taken their king away. But she's found him now — found them.

"YOU WILL RETURN HIM TO US, AND YOU WILL SUCCUMB TO HIM! IT IS HIS WILL! PETER!!!"

---

THE PEOPLE
They show up throughout the month. Different ones at different times; there is no predictable pattern. They take turns from the portals, coming out and in and out again, using their time out to wander the city. To search. To watch.

They can be found anywhere. People, men and women of varying ages; most are older, the ages that long-established teachers and doctors and lawyers and members of a church would be. They dress like normal people — and maybe your definition of "normal" is a little different — but for a very average earth from the 2010's, they seem normal enough in their blouses, jeans, skirts, suits. Even if such attire here in Trench may be atypical, they don't stand out much. They seem like they could be any fairly new Sleeper, with the way they wander around the markets and shops, a part of any crowd, looking for food and drink and protective incense. They don't seem strange.

Although maybe, if you're perceptive, you notice that you're getting stared at by a stranger. Maybe it happens more than once for you over the month. Maybe you feel eyes on you, an odd pinprick of awareness, and you can't quite see where it's coming from until, there — the woman far across the shop is staring right at you. She smiles a little, friendly. It's strange, though, how she doesn't stop staring. Maybe you notice that everywhere you go through the month, someone different seems to be watching you each time. But it's harmless, really. If you hold eye contact long enough or seem to get agitated, they'll turn away. If you try to find them again, they'll be gone.

It could happen to anyone, but if you're someone who could have been seen with Peter at all through the month, on some day, at some time, you may notice that you're being actively followed. Maybe you're on your way home, walking along, and at some point you realise that the man you could have sworn you'd passed by is behind you, following you. The next time you look back, he's closer. Maybe you're in the Archives or a shop and maybe it's quiet and you thought you were alone, but a face peeks around the corner of a shelf. Maybe there's a stranger outside of your house, staring at you from down below your window.

---

THE FRIEND
Maybe you're with Peter somewhere in the city (accompanying him on a grocery run or for some other type of shopping, there's safety in numbers; heading to or from the Archives where Peter's been studying more often these days; some other reason to team up, there's plenty). Or maybe you're walking and happen to see him not far away, close enough that you could call out to him, catch his attention.

However it is that you're in Peter's immediate vicinity, someone either interrupts what the two of you are doing or catches Peter's focus before you can. A voice calls out, youthful enough. It belongs to a young man — he's tall and thin, wearing a blue hoodie and jeans, and part of his dark hair is tied into a bun at the back of his head.

"Dude! What the fuck? I can't believe it's really you."

He's speaking to Peter with bemused familiarity, eyes lighting up, a smile on his face. A little astounded, but happiness blossoming quickly. Like a person running into an old friend they didn't expect to see.

Peter isn't moving. He's frozen, eyes as wide as saucers, staring with some strange expression. It's a horror to be sure — but not quite fear. Not mostly, anyway. No, it's..... pain, it's a soft sound drawn inwards as though he's just been hit. It's a prickling at the corner of his eyes, a heat that burns like chemical splashed across his vision, makes him blink several times, lightly, rapidly. He's stunned. But he also understands, sees this for what it is. It hurts, it hurts, so deep.

"Pete. It's me. God, where've you been?" The figure takes a step forwards, still smiling, and none of it looks fake on the surface. The boy is genuinely happy to see his friend, it seems.

Peter takes a step backwards, and whines low in his throat, like a trapped animal. No. No, no, no. Whatever he might be carrying (books or a backpack or groceries) slips from his limp limbs, falls to the cobblestone beneath.

He can't remember the boy's name; the impossible, horrible light within him has eroded those details over the past few years. But he remembers something else, and he'll never forget that. Not ever. The young man who was his friend back when he was still Peter, kneeling at King Paimon's feet in reverence.

THE FRIEND

[fogsong]

They're on the way back from the range in Prufrock. The session had gone well and Sharon had been impressed with how far along Peter has come. He's far from perfect and holds the gun like it's something to be afraid of, but she's got a feeling he'll get there with a few more months and some gentle guidance.

She moves in stride with him, a tiny bit of pep to her step, as she offers him a few pointers that will help him the next time they train, a complete lack of judgment in her voice, and then follows it up with assurances that he's doing well when a young man's voice cuts her off. Peter freezes beside her and her attention whips over to him, taking in his wide-eyed expression before her attention turns to the teenager approaching them.

Instinctively, protectively, Sharon takes a step forward, moving between Peter and this stranger. She hears Peter's bag hit the ground but she doesn't dare turn back to look, her eyes glued ahead, expression darkening.

"Who the fuck are you?" She snaps out, keeping her body between them, one hand trailing down to the gun that's nestled against her hip. It doesn't really matter who he is, what matters is Peter's reaction. The fear and the hurt she saw in his eyes.

[possessum]

He can't move for those initial moments, aware of his bag making contact with the cobblestone below his feet and a few things spilling out, but unable to make any movement to retrieve it. No, Peter just stands there, heart in his throat, unable to breathe for a moment. Until Sharon's suddenly in front of him, a barrier inbetween him and the other boy, and that's when Peter manages to exhale a ragged, shaky breath as the other teen gives a sort of startled laugh in the face of Sharon's aggression, brows shooting up.

"Uh— I'm one of Pete's friends? From Utah? Dude, I don't know what the fuck's going on right now or where this is." He runs a hand back over his forehead, looking stunned. "I think I came up out of the ocean...?"

It's a lie. The cultists have been watching and observing how this place functions, and they've seen how "Sleepers" emerge. It's the story he's been told to tell to Peter, to make it seem like he's joined him here, earn his trust. The boy's tall, thin frame tilts a little, trying to peer around Sharon at Peter again.

"She your girlfriend? I promise I'm not gonna bite. ...Pete, don't you remember me?"

But Peter's not answering him, instead tilting into Sharon from behind, trembling fingertips finding the back of her clothing. He can't explain just yet, can't really form words, but he's shrinking back behind her more, eyes wide with terror.

[fogsong]

Sharon's head tilts with the other teenager's as if she were trying to keep his gaze on her, her eyes locked on him as if he were a target. It's not so strange that someone from Peter's home might wash up on these shores, even a friend, but Peter's reaction told her all she really needed to know: this boy was not a friend.

And if this boy was not a friend, that made him an enemy.

"Stop trying to look at him and look at me," she grinds out as she feels Peter's shaking hands grip at the back of her Hunter's jacket. She knows Peter is a sensitive man, easily frightened, but this didn't feel like some overreaction. This was visceral. This came from somewhere deep inside of him and he was shaken to his core, "I'd say he remembers you well enough."

There's only one type of person from his home she thinks would draw out this kind of fear and it makes her insides burn, "You're one of them."

[creidim]

[ For as much as the month of April has granted Luna's blood with an aura of peace about her, it hasn't been quite enough to shake off the feeling of being watched. It's nothing that's troubled her greatly, but it's an unpleasant prickling that seems to follow her all over the city. No matter where she goes, the feeling is there. And sometimes she catches it, although she isn't faced with what she expects. A woman stares at her from across the market, smiles. When Luna stares back long enough, she turns and disappears into the crowds. Another day, Luna looks up from her books and notes to a man somewhere in his late-fifties gazing intently from across the countless desks within one of the study halls of the Arcane Archives. He smiles and when Luna looks up a second time, he's gone. Another man stares at her through the window of the shop in Willful Machine, but by the time she heads outside, he's gone too.

Moments scattered over the course of the month. Innocent, perhaps. She is used to being stared at. Still, it's an unpleasant feeling even if she isn't too worried by it. It's harder to keep track of that feeling in Gaze, there are always eyes upon a person in that particular district. She doesn't realise to separate the two sensations of being watched when she heads home one day. And for the rest of the evening, slowly turning into night — nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The house is quiet, still. Luna awakens with a soft grumble, for once there are no nightmares. The calm of her blood and Paimon's vigil over her dreamspace keeps most of the bad dreams at bay lately. She turns over, her mouth dry, and slowly sits up to wipe at her eyes before slipping out of bed in search of water. She'll grab some from the kitchen to bring back to bed with her, not even bothering to bring her wand along with her in her haze-filled sleepy stupor. Even in the dead of night, it's still light enough. The swollen green Wild Moon is bright, filtering through the windows to show the way down towards the kitchen. She treads quietly through the house half-asleep, briefly stops by a window to smile at the sight of Moon Presence gracefully gliding through the skies — her form silhouetted by the moon for a moment. And then down she continues, making her way carefully through the dark house towards the kitchen.

The prickling feeling comes once more as she heads through the hallway and into the kitchen. Of eyes being on her once more. The shape of something tall, shining eyes in the green glow of moonlight. Instead of continuing through the dark, she flicks on a small table lamp. The light isn't bright, but it's enough—

It takes her a long moment to process the sight: she stares for a long moment at the stranger stood before her, half-hidden in the dark. Broad and tall, fair-haired. She doesn't recognise him. Her right hand flexes, but she remembers it empty — her wand still beneath her pillow upstairs. She inhales but makes no sound, no further movement. There is a strange man in her home. How did he get in? How was he able to get in here? Is he alone? Or are there others, and she doesn't realise it yet? Her stomach lurches, painfully tight. An internal panic and alarm she can't fully press down, her chest rising and falling soundlessly but with growing pace. She doesn't dare look away from him, but she knows there's little time. She is wandless, and she needs to do something before this moment breaks.

Softly, she calls. Slows her breathing. Even if she doesn't speak the words aloud, she feels them as she speaks them with her breaths — grounds herself with them. An asking for help, something ancient and powerful to call to him, to rouse him. She needs him.]

« Linan tasa jedan Paimon. »

[ She keeps her next words to him short, quick. And then another instruction to her Familiar with that. ]

« Intruder. Kitchen. Ariel, my wand. »

[ The Familiar knows where she keeps it to sleep, the being will be able to fetch it for her. The wait is painful, and she feels the panic rise up in her once more. But she's outwardly calm, lifting her chin at the man as she finally addresses him: ]

What do you want?

[possessum]

( The man stares down at the girl, just as calm on the surface, movements slow. He knows what she is; they've been watching her for some time now. Witch, although not quite like themselves. This one uses a wand to channel her magic, and although the wand isn't with her now, his guard isn't at all let up. He hasn't come without certain preparations of his own.

Now he sees her face to face. She's really much younger than any of them could have expected. More girl than woman, cheeks still soft and voice like bells, doll-like as she stands there in the dim lighting. Despite this, the man knows not to underestimate her, but there's a certain thrill in catching her off-guard. Beneath it, a rippling, boiling anger. She is keeping their King prisoner here.

Still, when he answers, it's with a slow-growing smile. Not friendly, not angry, only hungry. )

Him.

( At the same time, an eyeless gaze opens at once within Peter — and on the surface of him, the human pair of eyes snaps wide. A voice has spoken directly to his spirit, deeper even than the mental connection that he has access to with Luna by virtue of her bond with Peter. This is something between only Paimon and his Witch.

He's there, and quickly. Too quickly — within moments, an impossible speed even for the ways he can manipulate his vessel's body to move faster than Peter could ever be capable of. The demon king appears (did he teleport? from there to here?) just behind where Luna stands like her second shadow, with no physical movement, not stirring a hair on her head. But close, so close he could breathe against the girl, if he were breathing. The only shift to anything is a crackling static in the air, a buzzing thrum, a flicker of that dim lighting nearby.

The man's glinting eyes were locked on Luna and now snap up to the figure standing just behind her like some big shadow, like a pair of black wings unfurling themselves from her back. Gaze widening — a quiver to his features, a soft gasp. He dips his head, then bows with his entire body, a movement that carries him down to his hands and knees, voice shuddering with emotion. )

My King, oh, my glorious King.... It is you..... I am here at your feet.

( The demon stares, bewildered, alarmed, and changing in one inky movement to stand in front of Luna, protective, his mental voice seeping into her. He sees the glint of circular gold hanging by a thin chain from the man's neck, the swirls of his sigil, and he realises, tensing. His energy prickles in response to the essence of the witch bowing before him. )

« He is of my host's world. He is one of them. The People. »

[creidim]

[ Her chin lifts at the answer, almost in defiance. An answer before she even speaks. Him. He wants him. Her sleep-hazed state is quickly dissipated, she's awake, alert, aware. There's a soft exhale; of course she knows who he means. Who it is exactly that he wants. It's there in her eyes, things falling into place, understanding being reached: they were the ones watching. The people in the streets, around the city. They were the ones watching her — because the one they want is under her roof.

She opens her mouth to speak, but then stops. There's another realisation: she has been heard.

It's a strange sensation, but not unpleasant. A vibration within her, affirming and steadying. Her feet feel more firmly planted on the floorboards. She feels... more balanced, strengthened. A thrum, around the air and within her. The lamp flickers, and this time it's Luna who's the one to smile, her expression shifting to comforted.

But the man crumples to the floor before them into a bow, deep in reverence. Luna's smile doesn't last long. She peers around the demon at him, her eyes narrowing. There's the soft beat of wings behind them, travelling through the house. It's taken Ariel a little more time than the demon king, but they'd heard her too. They're on their way. ]

« He wants you. » [ Her expression twists. It's hard not feel the anger within her, and she does feel it — something deep within her stomach, roaring. ] « Do you remember what I said to you? I would never allow them to have you, not after what they've done. »

[ But she keeps that anger tempered, for now. If this man is the only one here in the house, then perhaps he can be the message. Luna has no lust for bloodshed. She doesn't want to fight. She'll give them a chance, it's more than they'll ever deserve. Maybe they'll have the sense to take the offer. Ariel flutters over head, her wand held carefully in their beak. They perch up high, ready to return it to her, but Luna raises her hand to hold for a moment. ]

I'm going to say this once. [ She says to the man, her voice steady, serious. She moves forward, to Paimon's side. ] You dared to come to our house. You want him. You can't have him. He is not yours.

How dare you have the gall to come here for him. You wrenched an ancient being from his domain for your own greed, you twisted him into what he should never be— [ There's venom in her voice, even if she doesn't raise it. Her anger is ice-cold and cutting. ] and forced him into a boy without his knowledge, let alone consent. You have meddled with things you had no right to involve yourself with. The damage you have done is unforgivable.

Leave. Now. You will get nothing. Tell the others they will get nothing. You will have no command over King Paimon.

The Leader

[aetherweaver]

Nara'a is nearby and hears the shouting. Peter's name is being called, and he doesn't like the tone that's being used. He frowns and makes a decision, swapping into his reaper outfit in a blink as he runs towards the portal, that shining circle he can see in the distance.

As he closes in he skids to a stop, looking between Peter and the woman. The resemblance is... maybe his mother? He's not sure. What he is sure of is that he wants her to stop bothering Peter. Peter's on the ground and she's still shouting and finally Nara'a raises his voice - something he rarely does.

"Enough!" He takes out his scythe and swipes at the portal - it does nothing, but that wasn't his aim in the first place. He can feel the entity at the back of his mind waking, hungry for aether and confused at this ruckus, and -

It has permission. In a burst of red and black energy an entity appears behind Nara'a before draping itself over him, resulting in a changed appearance for the miqo'te. He turns his (their?) burning red eyes towards the woman and speaks in a low voice that seems to reverberate.

"You will leave the boy alone. You will leave him here. And you will be silent." His head jerks to the side suddenly, and he points the scythe at the woman. "If not... we will find you. And it will not be pleasant."

[possessum]

He knew it would happen. It's been the pressing inevitability, as much a piece of him as anything he was ever born with — that he would fall to the cult's hands. It's how it was meant to be.

Peter sits there on the ground in his stunned horror, unable to move. Though the portal separates the woman from coming closer to him, her screams press inwards, the way she'd once screamed at him from across the street, before he ever knew what she was or what she was doing to him, to his soul. Peter! I expel you!

Suddenly, there's someone else there. Even through his stun, Peter realises he recognises the man, gives a ragged sound as he stares up at Nara'a, watching him swipe at the portal. And then— there's something else there. Peter recoils in some terror as he watches the thing drape over the other, changing everything about him, his appearance, his eyes, his voice....

Joan's flinching too, surprise and a dose of fear widening the woman's eyes at the sight, but through that..... something brightens too, some curiosity. What is this entity.... Perhaps something like Paimon? Something great and powerful, clearly blooming with supernatural prowess.... perhaps another of the goetic kings? Despite the shudder that moves down her spine at sight of the being, there's respect to the way she tips her head forwards. The words she speaks are emphatic, emotional, strong voice quivering with them.

"Forgive me, I know not your name or title. But I request your mercy, for I am the witch responsible for conjuring and securing my lord Paimon into this healthy male host. The boy.... is meant to fulfill his role as my lord's vessel. He must return."

cw: threats of violence, horror movie smilies

[aetherweaver]

"I need no name. I need no title." This Voidsent gave up having such things long ago. All it wants is to survive. "I do not need your excuses, summoner." The tone it puts on that word makes Nara'a feel a little uneasy - but he's not the one who initially summoned this one, nor is he summoning voidsent when he is summoning things.

The creature knows that its partner cannot hold its aether for long, so it will be brief. "You are not welcome here. He has moved on to a different purpose. He is fulfilling his role just fine as far as we can tell. You did not consider what would happen when you summoned something with intelligence, did you?" It pulls Nara'a's mouth into a wide grin, revealing fangs and teeth that are even longer than usual. "You are not wanted by any of us." If she thinks it's the same thing, it's going to go with that. "You are hereby dismissed. He is one of ours. Who are you to think that you command power over the Void? Run along, little summoner. Run and play... but be wary in the night. You will be destroyed by that which you desire. Turn from your path now, and you may be spared. Fail to do so..."

It points the scythe at her again, glowing with red and teal energy. "You will be torn from your body and destroyed. We will make it painful. And we will find you." Its eyes flash brightly again, and it reaches a clawed hand out towards the portal. "... What are you waiting for? I did not mean 'now' as in 'eventually'. I mean now."

THE PEOPLE

[terribibble]

[It would probably take a while for most people to notice. Most people aren't Fiddleford McGucket, already stretched thin and prone to paranoia, terrified of unknown eyes staring him down. He shakes it off the first time, sure: once is once. Trench is an odd place.

But it keeps happening. It feels like the hair on the back of his neck is permanently on end. He never feels safe; as if he ever felt safe. Except... except for when he knows these strangers aren't the only ones watching him. Between his work with the Trench natives and the mysterious portals, there's an awful lot of figures in red robes moving quick and quiet around the city. He's not alone. But he is getting kind of tired of being tailed.

It's when one of them gets too close to his house -- his house, that he worked so hard on, that is one of the few places he considers safe ground -- that he snaps. He whirls on the man tailing him, harpoon gun in-hand, and fires. It's a warning shot. The bolt sinks with a heavy thonk into the wood of a post several feet to the left.]

I don't know what you want but you either are gonna ask me to my face like a normal person or I'm goin' to have to ask you to leave.

[Down the alley to his right he catches the faintest movement, a little flash of red. Good.]

[possessum]

( The man currently tasked with following Fiddleford McGucket is suddenly met face to face with his target — jumping a little in reaction to the shot that intentionally misses him. A pair of hands come up, defensively, and there's a stuttering sort of laugh.

The man is, by all standards, extremely normal-looking. He's shorter in stature, hair and beard white, dressed in a yellow button-down, a pair of jeans, and a brown flat cap. He wears prescription glasses. He could be a teacher, or he could sell insurance, or maybe he could be in human resources. He could be anything. He could have two kids at home, and a wife of he goes out to dinner with every Friday evening, and a comfortable house in the suburbs. He goes fishing on Saturday, and attends church every Sunday. In his spare time, maybe he likes gardening. He likes to watch small things grow, take care of them. He looks like, Just A Guy. )

Woah—! Didn't know you had that.

( There's a dimple in the stranger's left cheek when his smile shifts, apologetic and a little amused. Like this is all some accident. The truth is that of course he knew Fiddleford McGucket had the weapon. It's one of the many things they've observed about him over the past few weeks. )

Sorry I spooked you. Guess you can never be too careful with strangers these days.

( What does he want? From behind his glasses, the man's eyes soften. )

Just looking for someone— my nephew. He's tall, curly hair— well, here, it'd be easier just to show you. ( The man fishes for his wallet, flips it to show a picture of Peter, and holds it out — cautiously, slowly, with the other hand still lifted into the air. He's no threat, see? Just needs some help. )

Do you know him? ( He knows Fiddleford does; they've observed that, too. )

[terribibble]

You tailed me all the way 'cross town to ask me that?

[It would be smart, usually, to appeal to him this way. Family, missing family, is one of the surest ways to get your foot in the door. It's just that it doesn't add up if you think about it. If a man was worried about his nephew, if a man was worried about his nephew in a place like Trench, he wouldn't wait to ask after him until somebody else forced the conversation. That's wasting valuable time for no good reason.

He flicks a switch on the side of the harpoon gun and then bolt withdraws, snapping back into place as the metal wiring connecting it to the body of the gun winds back up again. Just. You know. To have it ready to fire again. Just in case. Did Peter ever mention an uncle? He can't recall them ever talking much about Peter's family at all, so either he's forgotten or it didn't come up. But he feels like Peter would have told him if his uncle was here, would have introduced them because that's the polite thing, and if that were the case then this man should already know where Peter is or know that Peter is prone to wandering and it's nothing to be too troubled by.

He thinks of the little rose clipped into his jacket that could very easily solve this problem and decides not to mention it.]

What do you want him for?

People

[imaglyphwitch]

If there was one thing Luz was not fond of, it was the feeling someone was watching her.

Luz could tell too: she'd spent enough time in places being quiet or trying not to be noticed to be able to tell she was being watched. At first it was in the bookshop, but after that, she suddenly started to feel like she didn't want to travel on foot right at the moment.

Today it was a particularly overcast day, and Luz was coming back from her job on her staff on foot when she heard the footsteps. They were keeping in time with her speed, staying a little bit back but still not far behind. Luz contemplated using her invisibility glyph, but kept losing the person, so she figured she'd hop on her staff and head home.

But she probably decided that a bit too late.

[possessum]

The little witch has certainly caught the attention of Paimon's cultists. Over the past days, on into the month, they've been watching her, observing her. To them, it seems obvious what has happened: their king has been stolen and is being manipulated by other witches in this strange place.

They take their time learning things about Luz. Where she works, glimpses of any magic she might use, the people she's close to. Today they will follow her home and learn where she lives. The man assigned to the task trails along after her, a tall and thin second shadow, slipping back from time to time to allow her to move forward before he trails closer again — and there's a pause of surprise when she seems to be preparing to mount her staff.

The witches of Paimon's clan operate quite differently, and aren't the sort to fly on broomsticks or use magic in perceptible displays. They work in silence and shadow, etching shapes and casting spells that require sacrifice and offering. The cultist lifts a camera and takes a quick snapshot of the sight, to report it back to Joan. There's a click and whir from behind the girl as the photograph takes, an eerie evidence that someone is indeed watching her.

But there's someone else nearby, someone coming down the pathway towards Luz, opposite where the cultist is following her from behind. Perhaps it seems a strange coincidence, but it's much more than that. By now, Paimon's learned of his followers' appearance here in Trench, and has actively been patrolling for them. It's some connection between himself and those witches that leads him to seek out the essence of one now, only... the demon pauses, alarmed when he spots the young witch he knows up ahead.

"Luz?"

[imaglyphwitch]

Yup, there was definitely a feeling of creepy crawlies singing on Luz's skin, the feeling that she was being tailed and that someone was, in fact, trying to track her. Luz supposed she could have turned into a bird or attempted to give chase with the Fathiers (THAT would have given them a shock) but Luz was just concerned for now. She was unused to someone being able to follow her in such an unseen fashion, and she had no idea why anyone would even bother.

Her mind forgets this for the moment though, when she sees Peter approaching.

"Oh, hey...Paimon!" By now she could tell who was whom. "What's going on?"

[possessum]

The demon's drawing closer with a strange, fluid movement — one that seems almost a little too fast, bordering on inhuman. It sweeps him closer to the girl.

"I am..... looking for something." He tenses, casting a gaze out into the gloomy shadows, breathing in the scent of looming rain from the grey skies up ahead. There is one of them there somewhere nearby, he can feel it. And they're here near Luz..... Have they done anything to her, yet? He knows not to underestimate them, and he's looking back at her, emotion perpetually distant and alien in him, but there's something concerned to how his eyes search hers. He can feel prickles of something odd emanating from her, perhaps an anxiety.

"Are you all right? Has anyone harmed you?"