( There's a tension that lingers, but for those few initial moments, there's some chance it might be okay.
βAnd then Falco's reflection is wrong. Staring where it shouldn't be. Peter realises it weirdly belatedly, a second or two after the fact, almost too stunned to react. In those moments, Falco's seeing.... what horrible, horrible thing he's seeing, and the older boy sits beside him, feels those signs of the boy's personal terror, the little sound of fright. Falco, he starts to say in response, worried about whatever he might be glimpsing, but then Falco's speaking to him instead.
Or rather, the thing wearing him, the reflection of him. Peter stares, eyes wide and round, at the sound of his name so wrong. That voice isn't Falco's, it's... something Else's, and he wants to pull away from it. From the impossible mixture of sharp and warm, of pain and longing. But he doesn't, stays where he is, locked into place.
Something in him opens its golden eyes, alarmed and curious all in the same vein. Seen, maybe.
Peter flinches abruptly and snaps his eyes shut. Whatever's in there is much more direct than Paimon's ever been, speaking to him like this. And if it's speaking to him, what's it doing to Falco....?)
What do you want?!
( He answers it aloud, voice a little higher in its upset. Unsure if it'll even respond to him or not, and perhaps it's not best to engage with the... thing, but... Falco's clearly facing the brunt of the terror, here. He won't just abandon him. )
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βAnd then Falco's reflection is wrong. Staring where it shouldn't be. Peter realises it weirdly belatedly, a second or two after the fact, almost too stunned to react. In those moments, Falco's seeing.... what horrible, horrible thing he's seeing, and the older boy sits beside him, feels those signs of the boy's personal terror, the little sound of fright. Falco, he starts to say in response, worried about whatever he might be glimpsing, but then Falco's speaking to him instead.
Or rather, the thing wearing him, the reflection of him. Peter stares, eyes wide and round, at the sound of his name so wrong. That voice isn't Falco's, it's... something Else's, and he wants to pull away from it. From the impossible mixture of sharp and warm, of pain and longing. But he doesn't, stays where he is, locked into place.
Something in him opens its golden eyes, alarmed and curious all in the same vein. Seen, maybe.
Peter flinches abruptly and snaps his eyes shut. Whatever's in there is much more direct than Paimon's ever been, speaking to him like this. And if it's speaking to him, what's it doing to Falco....? )
What do you want?!
( He answers it aloud, voice a little higher in its upset. Unsure if it'll even respond to him or not, and perhaps it's not best to engage with the... thing, but... Falco's clearly facing the brunt of the terror, here. He won't just abandon him. )