[Ah. Echolalia. That was a... new development. Lysithea half-opens her mouth to ask why in the world he was repeating her words verbatim before deciding that there could be no positive outcome to that line of questioning. Suffice it to say that he seemed to be... internalizing her message.
As Lysithea kneads her own dough, the two bakers soon fall into a comfortable rhythm. She relaxes under the spell of companionable silence - and progresses far enough that she begins to shape and press the dough into perfect little adorable spheres. Early on, she remembers to instruct Paimon in the importance of wetting his hands from time to time to avoid dough sticking to his fingers - then more or less forgets he is there.
Something nudges her about ten minutes in.]
Ye -- Oh.
[She looks wordlessly at the bread doll for a moment.]
Is that... me?
[She has no reason to believe it is her, only that she has some vague idea about sympathetic magic accomplished through effigies, which seems vaguely demon-esque. Glancing up to meet his face, she is... surprised by the intensity of the expression in his eyes. Intense, but... somehow earnest.
Slowly, Lysithea tears a hunk of dough out of her own bowl and with practiced skill, molds it into the shape of a little person. She pokes two small holes for eyes, then hands it to Paimon.]
no subject
As Lysithea kneads her own dough, the two bakers soon fall into a comfortable rhythm. She relaxes under the spell of companionable silence - and progresses far enough that she begins to shape and press the dough into perfect little adorable spheres. Early on, she remembers to instruct Paimon in the importance of wetting his hands from time to time to avoid dough sticking to his fingers - then more or less forgets he is there.
Something nudges her about ten minutes in.]
Ye -- Oh.
[She looks wordlessly at the bread doll for a moment.]
Is that... me?
[She has no reason to believe it is her, only that she has some vague idea about sympathetic magic accomplished through effigies, which seems vaguely demon-esque. Glancing up to meet his face, she is... surprised by the intensity of the expression in his eyes. Intense, but... somehow earnest.
Slowly, Lysithea tears a hunk of dough out of her own bowl and with practiced skill, molds it into the shape of a little person. She pokes two small holes for eyes, then hands it to Paimon.]
There. That's you.