( Lonely....? Paimon falls silent again, in that odd way of his — where nothing moves, not a blink of the eyes or a rise and fall of the chest. Like he's not even breathing.
Things like "lonely" aren't meant for him to be able to feel, and yet.... he has felt the shape of them. Through those he's been placed into. Peter certainly has a long-lasting relationship with loneliness, but even before that, wasn't there.... someone else? Wasn't there a deep loneliness? He can't remember the right way, but... it was there, wasn't it? An empty feeling? Alone)
....I think. There was lonely. ( He says, eyes wide and looking a little scared for a moment. He feels strange suddenly. His tongue gives a nervous brush upwards, a soft cluck sound.
He doesn't entirely know what escort means, but he can piece it together. And he nods, still wide-eyed. ) I need it. I will show you.... my things. I have treasures.
( ...His treasures are rocks and jars of dirt, animal bones, shiny pieces of trash and countless bits and bobbles he's magpied away. ....And a doll that looks like a monk. )
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Things like "lonely" aren't meant for him to be able to feel, and yet.... he has felt the shape of them. Through those he's been placed into. Peter certainly has a long-lasting relationship with loneliness, but even before that, wasn't there.... someone else? Wasn't there a deep loneliness? He can't remember the right way, but... it was there, wasn't it? An empty feeling? Alone )
....I think. There was lonely. ( He says, eyes wide and looking a little scared for a moment. He feels strange suddenly. His tongue gives a nervous brush upwards, a soft cluck sound.
He doesn't entirely know what escort means, but he can piece it together. And he nods, still wide-eyed. ) I need it. I will show you.... my things. I have treasures.
( ...His treasures are rocks and jars of dirt, animal bones, shiny pieces of trash and countless bits and bobbles he's magpied away. ....And a doll that looks like a monk. )
I will give you a treasure. Too.