All men must die, but first he must live.

[reddosmod]

SEPTEMBER 2021 EVENT

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: Woman holding skull in bag. ]
[Image Two: Plants sprouting out of earth.]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Woman rocking back and forth in dark.]
[Image Two: Woman rowing down river with corpses on stakes on horizon.]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Beef cake man breaking arrows off of shield with a sword.]
[Image Two: Beefy man slamming axe into troll-like creature, spraying blood.]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

GROWING PAINS

WHEN: September
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: Minor blood ritual.

---

September, for many in Trench, is considered a month of personal sacrifice. It is the month of self-actualization and promise. To grow your future, you must first be willing to sacrifice your past. You cannot walk forwards while walking backward. All throughout Trench, natives can be seen in yards and on plots of land digging small holes and planting a variety of items. Some plant seeds, some drop in a ring, others bury small parts of a body. But the ritual is simple: bury something that represents your past and seal it with a promise for your future.

You can write yourself a note or cut off a lock of your own hair. The ways in which people do this are limitless since it's a largely personal experience. Find a small patch of soil and dig yourself a shallow hole. Bury the item inside, say goodbye to who you used to be, and cover the item up with dirt. Once you are done, you must shed at least one drop of blood onto the sacrifice. It must be your own blood willingly given. Once the blood hits the soil, a small flower will miraculously grow out of the earth within seconds.

A single, powerless flower, but this flower will be completely immortal. You can either keep it on the patch of land or dig it up and bring it home. The flower will be a representation of your progress in Trench: if its petals wilt, you are lingering too much in the past. If it is in full bloom and vibrant, you're on the right path to a better future. If the flower starts to rot, you're heading down a dangerous path.

The flower may not be able to sway you one way or another, but it may serve as a valuable reminder of the kind of life you wish to lead. Some people abandon the flowers entirely and never bother with them. After all, there are no real consequences if you let the flower rot. If a character is dropped, their flower will fleck away like dust. Many believe that the flowers are made of the same stuff omens are made of.

You can dig up other people's flowers and watch their progress (make sure to get player permission) instead. After all, not everyone will care enough about their own flowers to really observe them closely. The flowers can come in any species or size, even fictional flowers, but they will only be replicas. Meaning if your character's flower is typically used for healing, there will be no healing properties in this replica. The flowers cannot be destroyed.

Many natives in Trench will repeat this ritual a few times every couple of years since the ritual is for letting go of the past. After all, the promises you make to yourself now won't be the same promises you make to yourself ten years from now. People change and so too will their flowers. What the characters bury is largely open to interpretation.

RIVER OF REGRET

WHEN: September
WHERE: Some obscure location within Gaze
CONTENT WARNINGS: Mangled corpses of loved ones, birds eating corpses, themes of regret.

---

You will find raven feathers all over Trench. They may drift through the air, lightly touch you, or you might decide to pick one up. The moment you come into physical contact with a feather, a conspiracy of ravens tears through the air and scoops you up into a whirlwind of feathers and caws. It only lasts a few seconds before you're deposited into a canoe drifting along a still river. Another Sleeper is in the boat with you. You pass beneath massive stone walls carved into the likeness of Never Mind and his ravens.

The world is silent around you. There is no rain here. Instead, sunlight pours through breaks in the clouds. Sunlight dapples across the water and golden-red leaves of nearby trees. It's more serene than most places in Trench.

You turn a corner and smell it before you see it. The picturesque summer day is dampened by the stench of rot. Then you come upon them: corpses. Corpses tied up to posts with barbed wire, corpses put through spikes and suspended in the air. Ravens flutter to and fro, picking at strips of meat. It isn't until you're close enough that you realize you recognize the corpses.

They are the corpses of people you have hurt. And that doesn't just mean people you killed or physically harmed. These are the bodies of people you have deep regrets towards: a lover you wronged, a best friend you lied to, an enemy you wish you had forgiven. Not everything is as black and white as murder, after all, and this grisly graveyard of mangled bodies says as much. Sometimes our regrets haunt us like the dead, and it seems like yours have followed you to Trench. You might even see your own body up on a post or the body of your canoe companions.

You have one of two choices: ignore your regret or face it.
Choosing to ignore your regrets doesn't seem to have any ill consequences at first. You pass by the corpses and continue on your river voyage. But the water grows thicker, and you come across the same corpses only in a worse state. The situation gets progressively worse each time you ignore it, and the river gradually becomes a river of blood and gore. The stench becomes insufferable and you will become increasingly corrupt. Some may even turn into beasts right there on the river.

Facing your regrets means talking about them, even mildly, to your canoe companions. You simply need to acknowledge the corpses, acknowledge the slightest truth to your feelings towards those regrets. When everyone in your canoe has acknowledged their regrets, the ravens will come for you once more. You will be brought back to Trench and awaken in the School of Mutter. Those who faced their regrets will discover that they have been gifted a white gold compass. The compass's needle will always point in the direction of the nearest Lamp Friend no matter the chaos going on in the world. But the compass only works once you have calmed down and focused.

QUICK FACTS

1. Each boat can hold up to 4 people. There can be multiple canoes in the same area.

2. If you try to leave the boat, you will drown in the River of Regret.

3. This does not have to encompass every regret someone's had. It can only represent one or two things. The regret should have to do with another individual or one's self. Something like "I regret not going to college" wouldn't necessarily work within the parameters of the prompt.

4. The river can only be accessed by touching a fallen raven feather. Touching a raven feather attached to the bird or a quill does not count.

5. Characters can engage with this prompt as many times as they touch a raven feather.

6. Characters with no regrets will not see corpses, but they will still be able to interact with characters who do have regrets.

BLOODSPORT

WHEN: During the Blood Moon
WHERE: Everywhere but specifically, The Gate
CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, fighting, forced aggression/violence, forced fighting.

---

The Blood Moon invokes religious reverence among Trenchies. September and October are the ultimate months of sacrifice to pay tribute to the gods and the blood that rules this world. An energy begins to swell among Trenchies and you keep hearing the same word whispered excitedly around the city: "Bloodsport."

As the Blood Moon floods the streets in red, you begin to feel antsy, like you don't know what to do with yourself. You're not necessarily angry, you just have an abundance of energy. You don't need to be told what it is: your blood is reacting to the moon. The Blood Moon enhances blood powers significantly and you're simply not used to that yet. You don't feel in control of your own power or maybe even your own mind. At least until you exert some power, some force. Slam a door shut or swing a sword, shoot some electricity or spit some poison and you'll feel at peace with yourself. That nervous energy will ease out.

Only to come back twice as strong. It starts to put you in a real fighting mood and you start to realize why the locals call this Bloodsport. Hunting down beasts and monsters might seem like the fun thing to do right now, but the real attraction for Bloodsport takes place at The Gate. You can hear the roaring crowd blocks away. Hundreds of Trenchies have settled in to watch Sleepers duke it out with each other or with locked-up monsters. Maybe join in the fight. At least you know the other Sleepers there want to be there...Right?

Unfortunately not. Those who resist Bloodsport will find themselves passing out more and more frequently. Eventually, they will be taken by Mysterious Forces to The Gate to be pitted against other Sleepers and monsters. Some Sleepers will be forced into a gladiator-style fight that they either must win or die trying. Most fights at the Gate do end in death, but there are some circumstances where someone surrenders. Of course, that never stops their opponent from killing them anyway...Hopefully, you're fighting someone who is still relatively reasonable. Both parties can be resistant to fighting, but they will feel obligated to fight each other. If they don't, monsters will be unleashed into the arena and your situation will get a whole lot worse.

Bloodsport can greatly enhance a Sleeper's ability and many believe it is a gift from the Pthumerian gods. It is generally considered an advantage to Sleepers during the Season of Blood to prepare them and train them to hone their skills for the Season of Bone. Many believe it is wisest to submit to Bloodsport and let yourself get used to the motions of violence in order to survive the remainder of the year.

QUICK FACTS

1. Casual physical training will alleviate Bloodsport feelings. You could get through the month just by jogging around a lot.

2. Characters forced to the Gate will not remember how or when they arrived - they will just wake up and be thrown into the Gate by some shadowy force.

3. Characters who willingly participate in violence/fighting will feel temporary relief from Bloodsport only for the feeling to increase.

4. Effects of Bloodsport last as long as the Blood Moon shines through September and October.

5. You can treat symptoms of Bloodsport with calming techniques such as aromatherapy, meditation, medications, etc. Can be based on what would ICly help calm your character but it should require a lot of it.

6. You can invent the monsters/beasts that are at the Gate. They should be killable creatures and easily captured for the purpose of the Gate.

CODING

Comments

[entreats]

[ This is so strange.

Every single bit of interest Ange might still have had in the lecture that's going on is totally gone at this point. Instead all of her attention is turned towards this weird boy at the next table over. The handmoving thing was already a little odd, but this reaction only makes the entire thing even odder. It's obviously surprise, but a weird kind of surprise, like it's half-muted, and Ange isn't too sure why.

(It's not like she knows that there's only one half of the body sitting next to her active right now, after all.)

Still, she's interested enough to want to see more of it. So she tries to focus - this still doesn't come too easily to her, as she's still adjusting to the way she's found her powers stronger in this place than they were before in Deerington - and raises the pinky of her left hand, twisting it in the air a little and forcing the butterfly to change shape while it's still sitting on that hand. The light shifts and morphs into a dragonfly, then a fly, a beetle, before it changes into a shape akin to a small hamster. ]

[possessum]

( He's so transfixed by the conjuration at his hand that at first he doesn't link it to the person doing the conjuring — just staring wide-eyed at the little creature made of light, shimmering golden. The shine reflects in his liquid-dark eyes for a moment: or is that a golden hue coming from within them....? Paimon's own energy is golden too, and maybe his true spirit moves more to the surface of this human vessel, as though to greet the incorporeal entity perched upon his hand.

But then the insect is changing, morphing — his eyes grow wider, wider still. His throat flutters with little movements; he feels the immensity of his own spirit straining against its human container.

It's when the light shifts to something larger, that mammalian thing, that Paimon is suddenly aware of her. At once, as quickly as he'd opened his eyes, they snap over to where the girl sits a table over from him. Locked on, he stares at her. The Conjurer, Magician, perhaps Witch...

Slowly, he pools more control from Peter's slumbering spirit, quenching it, taking proper control of the body — and finally lifts his head. Carefully, quietly, his head now turned directly to face her.

...And he clucks his tongue again, but this time at her, as though in communication. It's not terribly loud, especially not at the very back of the room, but a student in the row of tables in front of them does turn and look back for a moment, startled.

Sorry, Ange.... You have officially secured the very intense attention of a very strange demon. )

[entreats]

[ The sound makes her frown in thought. Its repetition makes her assume that it's at the very least a form of trying to grab her attention, if not just outright communication - but it's not any kind of communication she's used to, that's for sure. Maybe he's just doing it because they're in a classroom and he doesn't want to talk and catch anyone's attention?

.. then again, that tongue sound is definitely going to catch people's attention too if it goes on like this. Ange frowns, thinking of a good solution, but then just gives him a meaningful look before grabbing her bag and leaving the room.

It's a 'follow me' kind of meaningful, though she's not too sure if this odd, odd boy will catch on to that fact. It's why the little golden creature remains with him, and if he doesn't stand up to follow her, then that hamster is definitely going to try and nudge and tug him into doing so.

Either way, Ange will be waiting out in the hall to see if he'll come. At least there they can talk without grabbing the attention of the entire room.

And she definitely wants to talk. She's too curious not to do so. ]

[possessum]

( The demon stares, unblinking, his wide gaze not leaving the girl's face. And he's equally fixated on each little movement she makes — he's moving to follow her without needing to be further coaxed, though he does cup the golden creature in his palm, keeping it with him. Peter's notes and backpack are quietly snagged along the way, and he follows the girl out of the lecture room, out into the hallway. It's almost instinctive; he didn't have to even think on it. She has magic, and it's golden; of course he'll follow her.

Stood out there in the hall, he's properly unraveled: all six feet of his vessel, thin and tall and more shadow than person. He regards her with a solemn silence for a long few moments, unsure how to address her. She doesn't seem exactly like his Witch — a certain young Ravenclaw he's been Bound to — but he knows there are all sorts of other types of magic-users. Some use wands, others use incantation, and ritual. Some, perhaps like this young woman, conjure seemingly by will alone.

All of them are important to what he is. What he's meant to do.

After a long moment of just staring at her, he finally speaks. His tongue flutters a little oddly, like those click-sounds are just at the edges of his voice, but he does actually form true words now. He sounds like a boy with a very soft voice, like Peter, only he isn't a boy at all. )

You have magic. ( He holds the little golden creature up closer to his face, drawn to its light. Once more, something golden seems to flash in his own eyes. ) Are you a witch?

[entreats]

[ It probably says something about Ange that even in the face of all of this, she's still looking as calm as ever. Not even a single muscle of her expression twitches as she regards him with a complete pokerface. After all, she's seen stranger things than this when it comes down to it. This just feels like yet another day in the way her life has rapidly become stranger and stranger over the past few years.

For a moment her gaze falls upon the creature in his hands, still sitting there, apparently just fine with its position on the demon's hand. It's still moving, seeming like it's alive, but in a calm way. It doesn't seem like it's planning on moving from its spot, at the very least.

And then Ange's gaze turns back to the demon, briefly wondering if that golden light was just a reflection of her own magic, or something inside of him. ]

I am.

[ The words come more natural to her than they used to. She truly has accepted it at this point. ]

And you definitely are not just human either.

[possessum]

( Her calm energy helps keep him calm, too; if she were to react to him with sharpness, with fear or abrasion... it would prickle the edges of him like static. The demon king is especially sensitive to energies, meant to function through reciprocation of them.

So he stands as her mirror and just as calm, if not showing his own curiosity a bit more outright — eyes remaining unblinking, very intense. They water a little, Peter's eyes strained. She is another witch. He's met a good few in his time through Deerington, but each excites him; each are a certain connection he latches onto. He is meant to work with those with magic, and he's still such a lost thing... There's so much left for him to regain, to learn about himself. Those with magic can help him. )

No. I am not human. ( He clarifies in return, breathes out the words, eyes widening further. She's shared what she is with him, so he returns the gesture — though he has, at least, learned to be a bit more careful revealing too much of himself. He can only be truthful; the rules of himself dictate as much, but there are ways to speak without saying every single thing directly. And outright saying he's a "demon" feels... strange. )

I am Lucifer's most loyal king.... I am..... of the West.

[entreats]

The West?

[ A few things are already obvious, even before she speaks those words out loud like a question. After all, just the mention of Lucifer makes it very, very obvious what he is. Though his appearance still puzzles her a little in that regard. Sure, the demons she met back home took on a human shape as well, but they were always so obvious still.. off. You could tell that you were dealing with a demon, if not just from their looks.

But the one standing in front of her right now truly just looks like a normal guy. Just any regular boy that could have sat next to her in class just now. Even if his behaviour is odd enough that it stood out to Ange, the way he looks is totally ordinary. It's puzzling. Is it because he's stuck in Trench, or for some other reason?

Shoving that thought to the side for now, she tries thinking. It's obvious the knowledge isn't at the forefront of her mind, requiring her to dive in a little deeper. One of the demon kings, of the west..

It's only thanks to the fact that she studied up on this stuff in an effort to see if she could get anything done in Deerington that Ange manages to arrive at the right answer. ]

Paimon. [ It doesn't sound 100% sure, but it's not too far off. ] Right? It's rare to meet a demon, even in this place.

[possessum]

( It still feels very... textbook, the way Paimon knows to introduce himself. These are facts he's learned about himself over time, mostly thanks to Luna — information to cling onto. He knows those facts like he's memorised them for a test: he belongs to Lucifer; he is one of the great four Cardinal Kings. He bestows knowledge and treasures to his summoners, in exchange for offering. He is... was a great teacher, once. Now... he barely knows himself at all, much less how to teach and guide others. Now, introducing himself feels like talking about someone else.

He knows it was human hands that did this to him: mutilated him, tore his feathers out so that he could no longer fly. They intended to keep him caged so that they could use him. He was freed from them when Peter woke up in Deerington, and this place has unleashed him more, but... he is not free, still. This body is still a sort of cage, and he peers out from it at the young woman, visibly stunned when she says his name.

His eyelids flutter; he feels his true spirit stirring within him. He's still such a lost thing, but his spirit is still in there. It reacts to the witch saying his name — a bright light of colours not of this plane and countless incomprehensible languages, a cacophony, shimmers within him. The energy around his vessel thrums; she might feel it, the air tightening, humming, as though buzzing. ....In particular amongst the demon kings, Paimon's energy is a very intense one. )

You...... know of me?

( Then a thought, because he knows he once worked with witches before he was damned to Peter's bloodline. Could it be possible—? He isn't thinking on the fact that she obviously had to search for the information, that she says his name without clear certainty. Immediately, he just latches onto the concept of being known by someone. )

Have you..... worked with me?

[entreats]

[ It's odd. Ange thinks back on all the demons she's worked with. She thinks of her friends, and the way they're always so chatty, so energetic. It's such a difference from the demon in front of her right now, who seems much more.. unsure, perhaps, though Ange feels like it's an odd word to connect to a demon of all things. Perhaps it's just because his body looks so much like a regular awkward teenage boy - it might be strengthening that impresison, Ange figures.

Especially since it's such a weird contrast to the energy that currently hangs in the air. It doesn't make Ange nervous, since she's never felt nervous while being faced with a demon before, but she can definitely sense it. Like a tight tension, or a simmering energy that could burst at any moment. ]

Not with you. [ She replies, though feeling kind of glad she was right on the money. It seems that her studying did pay off for something after all, even if Ange wasn't quite expecting it to happen like this. ] I've worked with other demons. I've worked with Lucifer.

[ .. though it seems that his world's Lucifer and her world's are pretty different, since she can't imagine her Lucifer having kings serving under her.. Sorry, Luci. But it feels like a technicality, not worth mentioning right now, since it might only complicate things. ]

But I've read about you.

[possessum]

( Lucifer. Paimon reacts immediately to the name spoken again between them, giving a hushed sort of exhale, and that intense energy of him winds tighter. It makes his vessel's body twitch again, soft spasms seeming to ripple up under his skin. She has worked with his master.... Though he has, at least, learned by now that there are other... versions of his master, of his reality.

But he's not thinking about the technicalities of it, either. The facts themselves are what's important: the young woman before him is a witch who knows his name, has worked with Lucifer, as well as other demons. This is a rarity for him; this... is very important. She knows how to work with demons. For another long moment he only stares down at her, eyes wide as saucers. The golden creature in his hand still held, careful.

He's met others with magic who have helped him, who have studied him: John Constantine, Luna, Lysithea. There's still so much to be learned, and there's a growing curiosity for it all, hungry and desperate and yet steeped in an awe, a respect, as Paimon slowly moves a little closer to her. Asking for help is... strange, hard; it's meant to be the opposite, after all. People are supposed to come to him, ask him for assistance, provide him with offering. In his lost state, things are often twisted; it's almost comical. A demon king asking for help as to how to... be a demon king. )

Would you— tell me? What you have read about me. I would provide you..... great things. In return.

[entreats]

.. sure.

[ That brief hesitation before she answers is mostly born from the realisation of how odd this situation is. Ange has dealt with plenty of demons before, but it suddenly feels like the tables are turned here. When she first summoned demons, she was the fledgling witch who barely had any idea what she was doing, and they were the confident ones. To have a demon standing in front of her like this - towering over her, even while looking like a regular human - and asking her this.. it's a little weird.

And almost a little amusing, when he's promising her 'great things' so awkwardly and intensely, all at the same time.

But even if it's weird, Ange thinks it's something she doesn't really mind. Maybe it's her way to pay back the demon world as a whole for how much they helped her at first.

She glances to the left and then to the right in the hallway, before moving back to sit down in one of the deep stone windowsills, patting the spot next to her. ]

Come sit down. [ .. If he can? Ange did notice his movements are kind of awkward, but surely he can at least manage to sit down, right..

It's just that it feels more natural like this to Ange. Perhaps being at a school is kicking old memories back into focus, putting her back in the habit of staying out of the way. Trying to remain unseen, just to not get picked on. Sitting in a windowsill and hoping that no one will notice her.

And when she's seated, Ange opens up her bag, pulling out a relatively old-looking book out of it. She puts it on her lap and opens it, and if Paimon gets closer enough to look, he should be able to see that it's filled up with all sorts of occult matter as Ange browses through it. Magic circles, descriptions of rituals, mentions of demons, everything. ]

[possessum]

( He doesn't realise that any "great things" he would try to provide for her at this point would probably be.... not so great. It would take more than this to allow his power to rise; it would take an actual ritual, and the witch to present an actual offering. It would take his energy and hers aligning, forming a bind, an exchange of intention — and then he could grant her something truly great, even if he still isn't at his full potential just yet.

As it is now... he can still attempt to conjure something for her, but without a ritual, without forming a proper connection with her, it might be...... warped, or strange, or less. Unless she were to want gold... he can conjure gold pieces with hardly any effort at all....

Or perhaps she might seek something else entirely. Not something requiring conjuring, but simply assistance elsewhere. Paimon is still... figuring all of that out. This place seems to have cleared some of the limits to his abilities, but he's painfully aware that there are still boundaries within him, forged from his own mutilated state.

But the more he learns... about himself, and the more he practices engaging in ritual and connection with magic-users.... hopefully he may regain what was stripped of him.

He follows Ange to the little nook tucked into the stone, obedient as anything. Peter's backpack is dropped right onto the floor as he moves to sit down alongside her — slow and stiff and strange, but he's capable of it. The little golden animal is gently set down, and he leans in to see the book as she opens it (....leans in very close; the concept of personal space is lost on him). The demon is very silent as he stares down at it for a few long moments, and then when she turns to a page, he suddenly lifts his hand, finger extended to point at a drawing of a circle with a triangle inside of it. )

This. This is for me. This type. Facing the Northwest. ( He seems... excited to talk about what information he does know regarding how to summon him, eyes widening again. He knows the triangle is important; the cult had used triangles specifically for him. Luna's used one, too. )

Have you made circles like this? To summon the... demons you worked with?

[entreats]

[ If this were anyone else, Ange would definitely have told them to back off. She's awkward enough with physical contact as-is, and greatly appreciates her personal space, especially around strangers..

.. but.. if there is anything at all she has learned about demons, having dealt with them so many times, it's that they indeed have no idea what personal space means to humans. So she's entirely unsurprised by how much he's leaning in, and just chooses to accept it for now. She's gotten way too used to demon quirks.

(The little golden creature, though, sits very obediently now it has been set down. At best it's just sniffing around a little, but it's not moving away from where the two of them are sitting.) ]

I have. [ Ange answers in the meantime, looking at the symbol in the book, letting her fingers briefly run over it. ] Not this particular one, though.

[ After all, like she said - she hasn't dealt with Paimon.

But as an example, she browses further through the book, though making sure to remember where the circle was that he just found in case he wants to look at it again. This time Ange stops on another page with those circles. ]

I've made this one before. Mammon.. She's my closest friend out of all the demons I've dealt with. [ Ange shakes her head. ] I didn't need to use something this elaborate anymore though once we grew closer. She just showed up when I called for her.

[possessum]

( The demon's eyes (if possible...) widen further, once again seeming to tip towards.... painful... going a bit bloodshot around the edges. His mouth moves as though sounding out the name — Mammon — though he doesn't actually say it aloud.

Does he know this entity...? Even if a different version, one from his own world? He can't remember, but he thinks surely he must, if it's in the witch's book on Things Like Him. This is his first time looking at information on other demons, however, and he's completely transfixed, eyes roaming the page, the pictures upon it. The words... he still can't read words. When he was put into Peter, it was like certain things were reset in him. His host before Peter could read English, and certain Latin and other ancient languages are familiar to him, but.... being able to read is still lost in translation. It took him nearly a year to even be able to speak so well, and form complete sentences. )

Your... friend? She is your friend? ( He finally, finally blinks, though it's... still a little offbeat and strange. The flutter of eyelids moving, and one seems to close more than the other.... )

Your bond with her had such strength.... How? How did you.... grow closer with her?

( He wants this... wants to grow closer with Luna, with others he's forging connections with here. If he can do that... he can grow stronger, too. He can be more like how he's supposed to be. This is what he thinks, anyway, and he's staring intently at Ange as though she holds all of the answers, once again quietly awed by what she knows. )

suddenly this turned into my little demon: friendship is magic....

[entreats]

Well..

[ There's a lot of things to ponder here. Whether or not the demon is okay, for one, since the way he's straining his eyes doesn't.. exactly look like it could be comfortable. But it's not like Ange has ever dealt with demons in this place. She doesn't know what's normal and what isn't for otherworldly demons, so maybe she shouldn't comment on it unless it starts to look even more serious?

And then there's his question to ponder. It's an odd question for a demon, sure, but it suits the way he seems to be weirdly naive about certain things.

Like he's a demon still learning how to be himself. ]

You just.. become friends. [ It's her instinctual answer, but Ange slowly figures that an answer like that probably is not enough for a demon, considering their definition of being 'friendly' often involves stabbing of some kind, if experience is anything to go by. ]

So you just do things that friends do for each other, you know? Talk with each other, hang out together.. be there to help when the other needs it. That's what Mammon always did for me.

[ Ange quietly stares at the other for a moment before she speaks up again. ]

Is there someone you want to become closer with? [ Since she doubts he'd be asking all of this otherwise. ]

CURSED.... but somehow pure....

[possessum]

( "Friend" in general is a rather weird word for him, not one that's ever really.... been relevant for what he is (an ancient being whose true form could not possibly be Perceived...)

...but then he was inside of a small human body for thirteen years, stuck there, kept caged like a bird on the plane belonging to humans. And though Charlie had always been separate from others, living in her own little world.... there had still been some quiet human connection with certain others. With Mom and Dad and Peter, and especially with Grandma. And maybe a couple of kids at school who were kind to her when most of them weren't, and though she didn't need friends, sometimes it was nice to have them.

Paimon knows what "friend" is, even if it feels like touching a memory that isn't exactly his own, but is inside of him somehow. He knows it's a word that matters to Peter. He knows it's a word he likes. )

I have a witch, ( he tells her, though he seems to struggle with how to word things. ) We help each other. Like you. Like Mammon. But..... we do not talk. We do not hang out. We... are like this.

( He lifts his hands, holds them apart from one another. To... signify distance, perhaps...? Things have been strange; he's been working with Luna for a good year now, and yet... their connection is still strained. Not only for a lack of both sides knowing how to really handle things, but he'd... hurt her in his wrongness, and recovering from that is an odd process still. But if he could learn how to be more like a "friend", like how Mammon is for this witch.... His relationship with Luna has been mostly business, so cautious, but perhaps more of an intimacy is needed.... )

How do I talk to her? How do I... know what to say?

( ....He is asking for help on his interpersonal skills, this is really a thing that is happening. )

[entreats]

[ Ange is probably the least suited person to ask about anything that involves social skills. After all, it's not like she had a whole ton of friends before showing up in Deerington - and even then, do her demons count as friends when it comes to proof of having social skills...

But it's not like she wants to leave him out in the cold either. Even if she might not know very well what she's doing here, she wants to try. There's something almost weirdly cute about a demon who's trying so hard to get a better relationship with the witch he's working with, after all. ]

Well..

[ She's tempted to say 'just be nice', but she's well aware that the concept of nice is hard for demons. ]

It could help to find out about the things she likes. Then you'll have things to talk with her about. Or..

[ Ange's hand moves across the currently opened page of the book on her lap, like it's just idly moving while she's thinking. ]

It also couldn't hurt to just be open with her, you know? Have you told her that you would like to be closer? It's pretty important to communicate well.

[possessum]

( Paimon's attentiveness doesn't waver, every ounce of his concentration focused on Ange's words. His eyes are locked on — quickly flitting down to watch the movement of her hand, then jolting back up to her face. He seems excited by this witch's words, brightening up. There's even a little humming sound in his throat for a long moment before he speaks again, like he's...... buzzing, a bit.

Talking to someone who understands all of this is extremely enlightening and it makes him feel very pleased, like with Lysithea. As though he's a little less loss. )

She.... knows, because of our Pact. The Pact we made... many days ago. ( "Many days" being... over a year ago, now. However... Ange is making him think of something. He hasn't really explicitly said so much that he wants to be closer to Luna; it's been some thing he's just assumed will happen along the way. Thinking that's just how witches and demons work, but... work will have to go into it. Especially now that he's been on awkward grounds with Luna. )

...But I have not told her. I will tell her. That I would like that. ( He kind of shudders for a moment where he's sitting, almost like he's... vibrating. )

Because... because we were becoming... closer. Before. But I did something mmmmmmmmmm bad.

( .....Suddenly, he seems mournful, the excited energy abruptly shifting into something heavier. His shoulders even slump, eyes gazing woefully down at Ange's book. He isn't like Mammon. He's still broken. )

Mmmmmmmmmmm...... very bad.

[entreats]

[ Honestly, a part of her kind of wants to note down all of his oddities - the way he moves, not quite a shudder, more like an odd movement. The noises he's making. It's completely unlike anything Ange has ever seen from any of the demons she's dealt with.

But even Ange, not exactly the expert when it comes to anything social, can figure out that's not really a polite thing to do when the person you're writing about is right next to you. So she refrains from doing so, instead just trying her best to commit all these mental observations to memory. ]

What kind of bad thing?

[ Her voice is surprisingly calm in the face of his off behaviour, in the way he guiltily slumps. Even her tone doesn't sound like she's judging - Ange has seen a lot already at this point, after all. A demon doing something 'bad' isn't too surprising to her.

If anything, it kind of makes her sound like she's a doctor assessing some situation. ]

Something against her wishes?

[possessum]

( He knows to be careful about talking too much about personal things regarding his witch, that others can possibly be dangerous to her — but admittedly, Paimon has pretty much immediately developed a trust in this witch..... simply for the fact she is a witch. Her so willingly helping him has only solidified that possibly dangerously naïve trust within the lost demon. Fortunately, Ange doesn't seem to have any kind of malicious intent.... because he is still so frightfully easy to manipulate.

Her energy is also.... ideal for him. The way she maintains a certain calm. Paimon reflects the energies he's exposed to, and it can be hazardous, but this witch's voice and energy feels very nice. Very quiet, like the still surface of clear, cool water. It makes it easy for him to calm back down from his own.... agitated vibrating nerves. )

Yes. Against her wishes. ( He admits, still looking downwards. ) I am...... broken, still. And I scared her. And I hurt her. Because I have not been fixed.

( His eyes slowly move to the book in her hands, and he lifts a hand, points at it. There's something almost disconcertingly childlike to his explanation. ) If I can remember myself, I can be made fixed. So I have to learn....

[entreats]

[ It is oddly childlike. Oddly for a demon, anyway. Even though Ange's own demons aren't as malicious as most people might assume their kind to be, it's not like they're ever this naive.

But what her experience with her own demons does give Ange is a bias towards them. It's hard to think of Paimon as something inherently dangerous when he's explaining things so simply to her. When he seems so upset about the idea of having scared or hurt that witch he seems to have bonded with and be so fond of. It's weirdly.. cute, if anyone could use that word for a demon.

(Ange would.)

And so she can't quite help herself. She reaches up, a calm and gentle gesture, until her hand lands on top of his head - a move only made possible by the fact that they're sitting. Peter, why do you have to be such a tall guy. ]

It's alright.

[ She ruffles his hair a little. It's a weirdly soothing gesture, like the kind one might use with a scared animal or a small child. A 'there, there' kind of thing. Yet nothing about it seems too patronizing with how gentle it is, like there's genuine care in it. ]

With how fond you seem to be of her, I'm sure your witch will understand. And I'm sure she wants to help fix you too. [ Why else would said witch have bonded with him in the first place?

Ange slowly lowers her hand again. It's weird. For how awkward she is around humans, talking to Paimon - despite having only just met him - feels so much easier. Maybe it's since she never got to properly socialize with humans, instead spending her entire childhood being besties with a bunch of demons. It feels so much more familiar. ]

Besides, I know you can be fixed. I'll help you too, if you want. After all, I'm the Golden Witch. The Endless Witch. Fixing things is supposed to be my speciality.

[possessum]

( Things like physical affection are still very new for him, and the demon isn't used to others gifting it to him. Generally it's Luna to give him physical affection: petting his face to soothe him, calm him down when he's upset. At times, she's taken his hand. Once, she had hugged him when he did something to make her especially pleased. These are very special times Paimon has collected.

It's a strange mixture of something foreign, and yet something he... longs for. A closeness, some bridge between the empty spaces and whatever he's trying to find again. When the witch reaches up to the top of his head — hand shifting gently against his hair — the demon freezes, going quite still as his eyes widen again. It's a gesture that someone did to Peter, once; Paimon's not entirely sure what to call it, but it feels nice, like being petted.

It feels safe.

He's staring widely at her, looking almost comically stunned... and awed, eyes sparkling with a brightness. Her words.... she knows he can be fixed, she'll help him, she is the Golden Witch...... The Endless Witch.... She tells him of her titles, like how Luna is the Moon Witch, and the demon is absolutely transfixed, those wide eyes wet and shimmering now. He almost seems overwhelmed by everything she's doing for him. )

The Golden Witch.... ( Paimon repeats, hushed; it's this title in particular that seems to stand out to him. It makes sense, her magic was golden... of course.... and he has a particular connection to the element as well. "Happiness" is a strange emotion for him, one he's not quite sure how to... define, process, experience, but it's what he thinks he's feeling now.

Suddenly, he cups his hands and moves them forwards, holding them in the air as though something within has compelled him. There's a shift of energy, a sort of buzzing tightness around him — a flash of gold, and then a handful of pure golden coins appear in his hands. Their brightness reflects in his eyes as he holds them up to her. )

These— for you. You are helping me. You fix things. You put your hand against my head. ( ...This is said with the same amount of awe as the rest... clearly, it's made an impression on him... ) You are the Golden Witch.

[entreats]

[ At first Ange is mostly glad that he seems receptive of the gesture, which tells her that there's at least something good about him. It's not like he's some out of control demon. He's been sitting here, patiently listening to her. Trying to explain himself in the most simple terms possible, like he really is still figuring himself out.

And now he's even offering her something in return. If Ange knows anything, it's that no demon offers that sort of thing lightly, and so she wouldn't think of rejecting it. Even when there's virtually no use for coins like these in Trench's weird economy.

Besides.. it's not as if Ange is so used to gifts at this point that even small ones like these can't touch her as well. She stares at the coins with surprise for a moment, but then her expression slowly melts into a very genuinely warm smile. ]

Why, thank you. [ Ange moves her hand to gently take the coins out of his hand - one by one - while piling them up in her own hand, kept safely on her lap. ] It's very kind of you to give me that. It's good to see that you're such a well-behaved demon.

[ Right now, anyway. But then again, even the more bloody and gross sides of demons have never turned her away from calling her own demons her friends either, so Ange might tolerate demons in general more easily than normal humans would. So even though she doesn't doubt that Paimon would be more than capable of killing humans if he tried, she still can't help but think of him as weirdly adorable.. ]

It shows that your bonded witch is a really good influence on you.

[possessum]

( Truly, this is... such an unexpected, but very welcomed, delight. Luna is the witch he essentially serves, but he's meant to work with many people, other magic-users, witches, and he would very much like to work with this witch, too. The more connections he forms with others, the more he can practice conjuring like this. Back in Deerington, his powers had been strange, warped and limited. What he'd tried to conjure back there had been.... wrong. Odd blends of organic and inorganic materials: at times quite macabre, often failed things with feathers and blood...

In this place, he can feel that his powers don't have that odd haze over them, but he's still limited by his own botched state. It will take time; he has to practice. These coins come very easily to him; they hardly require much effort at all. And perhaps some part of him remembers that the majority of the magicians and summoners of his past had requested gold.

He's very pleased that the Golden Witch accepts this reward, staying quite still as she picks the coins up one at a time. She thanks him, praises him, and it makes him feel good, like he's done what he's supposed to be doing. Her words also praise Luna, her influence on him, and Paimon seems to brighten again, the very energy around him warming like flashes of sunlight. He forever jumps at the chance to speak well of her. )

She is very good and very strong... very wise... She is of the Moon, and she is a Raven's Claw who knows many things.

We stay together here... We have a house. She has a Room of Potions.

( ...After telling Ange all of this very proudly, he debates, for a moment, whether he should also tell her about Peter. Whose role is... admittedly important here; Peter is his chosen Vessel. But he ultimately decides not to, wanting the Golden Witch's attention for himself... and besides, Peter is very boring. Paimon simply decides not to mention Peter at all. )

I will show her to you some day. We can all... work together.

( That could mean Occult Business but it could also mean colouring with crayons together in the living room.... both would be important ways to strengthen a connection. )

[entreats]

[ It's so obvious how fond he is of the witch he's bonded with. As clear as day. He sure doesn't waste the opportunity to gush about her, giving Ange way more details about this witch than Ange ever even asked for.

But she doesn't mind. Ange may have incredibly little patience with humans, most of the time, but her unique fondness for demons makes that she's perfectly fine with him rambling on about how great he thinks his witch is. (Ange is pretty sure Mammon would have done the same in his shoes, or so she likes to think.)

So rather than seeming annoyed, Ange actually smiles a little, still holding the golden coins in her hand. ]

Sure. I would like to meet her. [ Ange may have had a huge aversion to witches back home, and even through half of her stay in Deerington.. but she has learned by now that most aren't so bad, as long as they come from worlds other than her own. ]

I wish I could properly introduce you to Mammon too, but I'm having trouble summoning her to this place in her usual form. [ There's a hint of something else in her tone as she says that - like this is one of those things that genuinely bothers Ange, making something a bit deeper burrow underneath her flat tone. ] Would you want to meet her if I ever manage to get it right? Meeting other demons might be good for you.

[ If he's still learning how to properly be himself again. ]