and for a brief moment, we could stop the time.

[possessum]

^{Who: Peter Graham / possessum + various!
What: Catchall through endgame. I'll be placing starters for folks here to indulge in. If at any time you would like to do something with Peter before the game ends, please hit me up ♡
When: June - August.
Where: Various places in Trench.}

BUT WITH THE STARS AND THE MOON, I WOKE UP IN THE NIGHT.

Comments

deer forms.

[possessum]

— threads featuring deer form interactions. May be with Peter's deer form or others.

( Luna)

[possessum]

( Peter's still so afraid to be peeled back, exposed, reduced to the most "pure" form of himself. He's terrified of what it may be. His mind conjures up horrors, something burnt and small and frail, so grotesque and hurtful for Luna to be faced with.

Or maybe something ugly in a different way. Something raw and dangerous, something dripping with the demon. Maybe there's nothing of Peter left at all.

But maybe what he's most afraid of is if the thing he is beneath isn't the demon. Maybe what he's most afraid of is that it is just himself, only he's cold and unfeeling. That he regards Luna not with the gentleness that her own deer form displayed for him, but something harsh and unsafe. Something that would leave her feeling.... alone.

But it's important that he do this, too. And there's something perhaps funny to the fact he's more afraid of this than he is to have exposed his Beasthood form to her for the first time earlier in the month.

It took Peter a couple of times to make the initial ritual work, his heart such a shuddering thing, but when the door opened, this time, he stepped through.

When the stag returns, he moves very slowly, dark hooves quiet against floorboards. He stands tall, antlers stretching out, (difficult to get through doorways like this, really....) The deer's head turns slowly, cautious but calm, and with an eerie light seeping from his eyes, like tendrils fluttering, ghostlike. )

[creidim]

[ Luna has been far less apprehensive over the whole thing. There's more of an excited anticipation that has her rocking on the balls of her feet a little as she helps direct Peter with the ritual needed to ask Doorway to show him the way. Peter will be fine; he'll be fine when he steps beyond the threshold into the dark, into the little void of space where Ramona exists. She had meant what she'd said to him over the network. Whatever it is she would be greeted with when he returned, she wouldn't be disappointed.

Why would she be? How could he disappoint her? To her, he's never been anything but wonderful at his core. She loves him, loves who he is. And to meet that in its rawest, purest form is something exciting, and deeply intimate in a way. It's something she feels honoured with.

It's enough to make her stop rocking when a deer returns, softly gasping at the sight. Part of her laughs slightly, deep down: she'd been right about him being tall. But there's so much more than that, almost overwhelming with something she cannot place. She's reminded gently of the deepest, darkest parts of the woods — a strange sensation she can't quite grasp: something silent and still and old. It swells within her, and her hands clasp tightly in front of her, expression softening. ]

Oh, look at you. [ She breathes it out softly. Emotion blooms in her chest, a soft exhale with the curve of a smile at her lips. ] Hello, Peter.

[ After a long moment, she takes a step forward — a hand reaching slowly out to him. He looks so soft. He looks magnificent. ]

[possessum]

[ Any trace of caution melts almost immediately as the deer steps back through the threshold. He's a shy thing to be sure, but— he knows what this place is, of course he does. It's home. He couldn't possibly be afraid of it.

And there's the girl, his girl, his wonderful person, waiting for him. The deer stares, calmly greeting her with its strange haunted stare. 'Hello, Peter.'

Gently, his head tips forwards, and he takes steps closer. Right to her hand, gently nudging his forehead against the girl's palm. There are no words, he can't verbally speak, though he remembers her echoing way of speaking when she's in this form, an ethereal chorus of whispers, single words at a time. He isn't worried. Luna will be able to understand his heart; he knows this.

As he nudges against her hand, those two fluttering ghost tendrils slowly lift, and gently reach out too — up, up, the ends of them seeking her. They don't hurt, don't feel like anything corporeal, a whisper of fog. But they do seem insistently curious, gently reaching out for her cheeks, and sliding up more. Heading— towards her eyes, maybe. Perhaps a little concerning. If batted or coaxed away, however, they will obey — slithering back into the stag's eyes. ]

[creidim]

[ She'd remembered words being difficult. Odd ones, here and there. But communication in general hadn't been something that came easy. Perhaps the fact everything else seemed so simple, there was nothing complex like language in her when she was like this. Maybe it's the same case for Peter, but she isn't troubled by it. They have their own ways of talking.

There's a bubble of amusement that escapes her throat as he bumps his head against her hand, her fingers gently curling into his fur for a moment before brushing back then down his neck. He does feel soft, she's delighted to find. Unsurprising in a way, especially considering how much she already enjoys playing with his hair. She leans in gently, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

She doesn't try to bat the tendrils away, but she does take a moment to study them briefly. Hm. Curious. She does try to touch them, however, raising her other hand to try to grasp at the wisps of light with her fingers, as if she might be able to curl them around them. ]

You look very beautiful. [ There's a pause. It's a small thing inside her. Something niggling. Her expression shifts into a quiet frown for a long beat. ] I told you I wouldn't be disappointed. Didn't I—? I just—

[ The words fall away and she inhales, looking at him for another long moment. She feels... sad, she thinks. She doesn't know why, at first. And then she thinks she does, her lips pursing. She doesn't want to upset him because she's upset. ]

[possessum]

[ Everything does seem simple. The world exists just as it is — and he can see it quite clearly. See how he exists within it, too. There's no need for words, he can be silent, the way he feels most comfortable.

And he's here for her. That is the stag's purpose, the purpose of Peter's spirit like this, he knows. To comfort and protect Sleepers. When his precious person brushes her fingers along his neck and strokes him, the deer dips his head forwards a little more towards her, mindful of his antlers, but desiring to give her comfort in the sensation. Certainly, it feels good for him too, and his lean form ripples gently as she kisses his forehead. A familiar thing between them, a safety. He's right here for her.

Those odd tendrils of light seem to react to the girl's touch, not only allowing her to touch them but welcoming her to. One does curl gently around her hand, and despite not truly being corporeal, it seems to have an energy of its own. A faint, soft sensation. It winds slowly around her wrist, while the other continues its journey towards her cheek, brushing gently upwards. Examining her as much as she is them, maybe. Or maybe they know her, recognise her. Either way, there isn't any harm to come from them. They exist as a part of the deer — something unnatural, but a part of him.

Meanwhile, he's gazing solemnly at Luna as she speaks, listening. But her words seem to falter a little, and a quiet melancholy hangs in the air. He's a strange thing, there are soft aches that come with his presence. Slowly, he lifts his head again and moves his face to her other cheek (the odd tendril is still patting along one....), where he nuzzles there before giving her cheek a soft lick of his tongue. ]

[creidim]

[ It's surprising how easy this is, but in many ways it isn't surprising at all. Not in the slightest. It's Peter. So much of them comes so easily to them: the gentleness in the silence, mute understanding. She gives him another few gentle pets after the kiss, very much taking her time — his fur is so soft, she's truly enchanted. This is fine, she's just going to pet her deer!boyfriend, she's having a wonderful time.

The wisps of light are a curious thing, though. And curious of her, too. She watches as it wraps gently around her, a ghost-touch of sensation. Perhaps like how a sunbeam through a window feels when one passes by it, or something like it. She's not particularly startled by it, though. This is... just Peter, she supposes. There's nothing scary about him, certainly nothing about him that scares her. Why would this be any different?

There's a little sound: half-laugh, half-sob. She's briefly at a loss for words, then comes the very gentle lick at her cheek. She playfully brushes his muzzle away, a little bashful, but then moves to hold him in both hands. She utters a very gentle sigh of his name under her breath, staring at him for a long moment.

Finally, she lets the words tumble from her mouth, and it comes so incredibly easily now to let them slip: ]

I just wish you could see yourself how I see you. [ With it come tears, swelling from her eyes quickly and streaking down her face like falling stars. She barely recognises them. ] That you're something... good. Wonderful. You are perfectly you.

[ He had been so worried about being something bad, with this. That he would turn into something bad being a deer. It isn't something that's a new concept either; plenty of times before any of this she's known the kind of thoughts in his head. That he isn't something good, someone good. But it's not true, she's never believed it to be. And here? Merlin, look at him now. ]

I wish that the dark clouds inside you would stop not letting you see that.