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Good evening, all. I think this is what is termed a 'bandwagon.' However, as I imagine we will all be busy dead, dying, or in the process of resurrecting soon, I thought I had better commit before October.

I'm opening a bakery and sweets shop.

[Lysithea pans the camera to a table that is covered with pans filled with dozens of buns, cakes, and confections of different colors. It really looks extremely well done. One would imagine that Lysithea applies herself with the same intensity to any task she undertakes.]

Everything will be sourced from traditional Fódlan desserts, passed down through family histories and collected by hand in this book. I've realized that if I'm not the one who makes these treats, I'm... never going to taste them again. So I thought I should share.

[The view changes to an enormous tome currently open to a page titled Saghert and Cream in script prominently displaying a luscious picture of some kind of fruit and cream concoction. It really looks like this was drawn by hand.]

I'm baking from my room for now. If you want anything here, you can drop by or I'll bring it over. If you want delivery, you've got to get at least a dozen, because frankly, I'm not running all over town to give you one sweet bun. I'll open a proper location when it's not Death Month.

...Thanks.

[She signs off after a moment's awkward hesitation, as if she's not sure what to do next.]

[video pt 2, ten minutes later]

It's -- me again. Upon further reflection, I have no idea how to run a business, at all, apart from the portion where you confidently declare it in public.

I would... appreciate advice.

And help. If you are willing to be paid in cake.

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( ...Only to start back up again a few minutes later. This time, he's not so close up, though he's still staring as intently. He has gathered himself, somewhat. Processed this.

Lysithea, the mage who once gave him a very delicious cake as an offering, is now.... offering more cakes. Baking them herself, even. And a certain demon with a very strong sweet tooth for chocolate........ is highly intrigued. It's something of a dream come true. )

I.... will assist you. I.... will then be given cake.

( .....He sounds very solemn about it. This is important. )

[oh. my. god.
this is the worst interaction with Paimon she's had yet
she hasn't even said anything but it's definitely the worst, undeniably so.]

Uh.

[Lysithea does not say 'uh,' as a general rule. It is highly frowned upon in society. She makes an exception.]

That's -- yes, that's the deal I'm offering.

[rally, lysithea, rally
after taking a deep breath (offscreen) Lysithea resumes the usual unflappable attitude she takes on when interacting with Paimon.]

Of course. Customers are always welcome. Is there a... specific mode of assistance you would like to offer?

( Paimon thinks that Lysithea is thrilled to see him. They have a Connection, after all.... They're close..... No one can tell him otherwise.

His eyes widen as she says "deal". Yes, the deal.... )

I can.... do things. With the broom. With the pieces.

( ....He means sweeping and doing the dishes, though the latter part of that is probably absolutely lost in translation. But when she says "assist", this comes to mind. These are... Chores. He does them for his Witch around the house, to assist her. Or, if that doesn't sound appealing (and having a demon in her home for longer than is necessary probably doesn't)...... )

....I can give you these. ( He reaches off-screen for a moment and then holds up a palmful of shimmering golden coins that were apparently just like, sitting there beside him. Someone's been practicing his demonic reward conjuring. ...But Paimon, what would she do with a bunch of gold.... )

[things... with the broom... and the pieces

Lysithea resists the urge to vocalize another 'uh.' One a conversation was plenty. After a moment's hesitation...]

That's far too much. You need to barter more sensibly. Judging from the size of those coins, three gold pieces is sufficient for a dozen items.

[There's no coinage here, but she can always get good bargains for shiny objects.]

If you would like to assist... in person, that can also be... arranged.

[should it be though????]

( Too much? The demon tilts his head thoughtfully, gazing down at the coins that are literally spilling through his fingers. Though he doesn't explicitly remember granting things to his summoners in the past, his spirit still knows it. And it had always been troves of treasures — countless golden coins, never only a few.

But... Lysithea says only three, and so Paimon obediently sets the pile of coins down, slowly extracting three pieces instead and holding them up to Peter's omni to show her, solemn. )

This. This is three.

( Yes.... good job, Paimon, you can count. )

I will assist. I assist my witch, and she is pleased. You will be pleased.

( He sounds very sure about this! )

[Lysithea gives a satisfied nod.]

I don't know how you conducted transactions in the past, but this is strictly business, you see. If you desire a good I have to offer, you may respond with something of equal value in the eyes of the society we inhabit.

Otherwise, you'll be taken advantage of.

[this really doesn't feel like a concern she needs to have for a demon, but.]

And I shall... look forward to it.

[Lysithea has a sudden image of her trying to run a shop while a possessed Peter levitates behind the counter passing out demonic cupcakes leering at customers.]

( He's listening Very Attentively to what Lysithea's saying, eager for any sort of learning opportunity from her. Certainly he understands the concept of "equal value" — visibly perking up at the term, eyes brightening — but it's true that his idea of what's equal might be... a bit skewed.

He's still sorting out what works; he's only partaken in a few ritualistic exchanges since being put into Peter. A lock of a witch's hair in exchange for a vow. A drop of a mage's blood upon a cake in exchange for peace. Very important things; he's felt, known the importance of them. They were worthy exchanges.

But in this place.... Like she says, "in the eyes of the society we inhabit"... he doesn't really know. She also said "taken advantage of", and this concept isn't entirely new to him, either. Luna had also said as much, worried about it. That there would be those who could try to use him. Yes.... yes, he will have to be careful. The demon gives a severe nod. )

I will have to learn.... how much to give, here. How much... is this. How much is that.

( It may mean that he just......constantly asks Lysithea how much gold that random items in this place would be worth. It may become extremely annoying.

He also tends to end up skittering around on the ceiling a lot, which might be bad for business. )

I shall look forward to it....... also. ( He says, almost awkwardly. Paimon's still not used to conversing, so much. He just kind of stares at the screen for a few long, unblinking moments, and then he suddenly turns it off. That's..... what you do, right? )

[For some bizarre unrelated reason, Lysithea is steeling herself for worse than 'very annoying' so as it turns out, 'very annoying' might be a positive. As the demon stares, she wonders if, perhaps, he is pausing to think.

Then it goes on for too long.]

Of course, there is no mone --

[That's when the feed cuts off, and Lysithea is left staring into open space at nothing in particular.

why is this happening to her]

( For some days after that, there is not a word from Paimon.... In fact, nearly a week passes by before he makes an appearance.

When he does, it's on a grey and drizzly afternoon, completely unannounced. He simply shows up to Lysithea's address in the Gaze district — having found the information from stalking all of the replies to her message... It's not a long walk at all, since he lives in Gaze, too.

He follows the stairs up to the girl's suite, Peter's satchel slung onto one shoulder, within which he has brought a few items.... In his other hand, he carries an old broom. He's slightly wet from the rain, but seems unbothered by this..... as he reaches the upstairs and knocks on the door.

He has, at least, learned how to knock by now. With that, the demon stands very still and very silent, waiting. His eyes are held so big that he looks slightly petrified — but he's just Very Serious about this.

Your assistance is here, Lysithea. )

[Thank goodness, thinks Lysithea as she goes about her business, measuring out teaspoonfuls of vanilla (very precious, very important). That business with Paimon through the Omni must have just been an odd quirk. Clearly, he had forgotten. Or Peter had resumed control. (How did that work, honestly?)

There is a knock on the door.

Lysithea is not perturbed. There has been a steady flow of customers - at least two or three a day.

Perturbation is initiated when she actually opens the door.]

P-Peter?!

[...]

No... it's you?

Edited 2021-10-07 23:47 (UTC)

( Paimon's usual method of infiltrating a space is to crawl his way up the window, but he's.... learned that some people do not appreciate it. Besides, crawling with a broom in hand would be tricky, probably. He can fly if he needs to, but it's still a bit wonky.

So he stands on solid ground instead, tall and quiet and solemn, staring down at the girl when she opens the door. )

Yes.... it is I..... ( The demon says, slowly. He seems... awkward somehow, maybe even nervous — standing there more stiffly than usual. Clenching the broom handle very tightly. )

I have come to..... assist you.

Oh.

...Oh.

[it's happening
lysithea can feel the temperature rising in her body
at least she got one good week of work in]

Well! Come on in.

[Is this like vampires? Was this a bad idea? Would he now have permission to perch on her ceiling and watch her while she sleeps? These are all very good questions, although she isn't sure if she wants the answers to all of them. Still, she backs up and graciously waves in the boy/demon/baking assistant.]

Careful of the boxes in the hallway. Those are all packed up for customers to pick up. I... see you brought your own broom. You're very prepared.

[light and breezy lysithea
keep it light and breezy]

Edited 2021-10-09 02:41 (UTC)

( Talking to people is still..... strange. He's still learning how — not only in a... social context, but literally, he sometimes still can't talk. There are days when all he can manage are clicking sounds and soft gasp noises, like he's been reset in this body all over again. It's more rare, the longer he adjusts to being in Peter, but... it does still happen.

The demon king is grateful that he can speak, today. It would be very demeaning if he were only able to click at Lysithea. However.... he finds that he doesn't quite know what to say, grateful for the direction she gives him to come in (he can follow direction, he knows how to do that) and so the demon does, stepping inside, stiffly. He's looking around without moving his head at all, his eyes just roaming around, wide and round. The comment about being prepared is met with a relief, at least; if the mage sees him as prepared, he has done well.....

So the demon holds the broom up to her, as though she might want to examine it more closely. )

You can hold it. See? It is made of wood.

( .......As many brooms are. )

Y...es.

[...Paimon appears to be expecting something. After a moment, she will tentatively reach out and grip it in one hand.]

It's a very nice broom. Good... weight.

[What is coming out of her mouth?? The awkward pause continues for just a smidgeon too long before she releases the broom and claps her hands together in faux cheerfulness.]

Right! Let's get started. You can... sweep the floor.

[The floor looks immaculate already.]

The corners. There's probably... flour dust. Here's a dustpan. Right there, you see - and there. You can empty it in the bin over here when you're done. And when you're finished, come over here and I'll show you what to do with dough.

[The sweeping is really just a time-killer while Lysithea escapes to a separate room to lightly hyperventilate.]

( It seems important she approve of his broom, and Paimon finds himself further pleased that she does. He expresses this by widening his eyes further at her and not breathing, for a few moments.

Then he takes the broom back into his hands, waiting obediently for Lysithea's direction — staring at the spots she gestures to, taking the dustpan. There's a soft sound, a hushed whisper of some unintelligible amalgamation of languages, and he nods very severely. )

I understand.

( With the promise of learning what to do with dough on the horizon, Paimon gets to work doing as she'd said. Fortunately for her, it will... take him awhile in this task, hopefully giving the poor girl some time to process this sudden interruption to her day... Paimon moves very slowly, sweeping every single centimeter of the corners. Even if there's no discernable dust in sight (and there mostly isn't), he makes sure not to miss a single spot.

And after every stroke of his broom, he moves to empty the dustpan into the bin. One stroke, empty; one stroke, empty. It's... not at all a sufficient way to do it, but it is..... thorough, at least...?

When he's done, he quietly sets the broom and dustpan down and goes to find Lysithea again, awkwardly approaching her. Really, he's not used to communicating long-term with anyone but Luna, and even then he's still learning how to do that. He lingers, unsure, and then clucks his tongue at her, softly. To let her know he's ready for dough. )

[Paimon's pleasure is generally indistinguishable from Paimon's perpetual state of being ('weird', 'uncomfortable'), but Lysithea has grown familiar enough with the demon that she can at least tell that this interaction is proceeding reasonably well. Part of her assumes that the tell-tale signs of his disapproval might be obvious, anyway ('dismemberment', 'pain').

As the demon begins to sweep, Lysithea steps away into her bedroom and takes a moment to sneak a peek at the copy of the Ars Goetia she somehow still has from the Deerington library.

Regrettably, there is nothing in there about Paimon and propensities for baking.

She proceeds with her backup plan: stepping into her bathroom, making eye contact with herself in the mirror, slapping her own cheeks twice, and saying confidently, "I am in control of this situation." She steps out in time to find him hovering around the doorway clicking his tongue, which jars her enough to cancel out any positive effects from that pep talk.]

Ah --

Yes, wash your hands.

[She shoos him into the bathroom. Assuming with some validity that the demon has never washed his hands before, she will demonstrate how to use the sink.]

And now for the dough. We'll start off with some sweet bread. It's very straightforward - and kneading seems like something you'd enjoy.

[She's not sure why.]

( He shuffles along into the bathroom as Lysithea directs, staring mutely at his own reflection for a moment. It still doesn't feel like him, not really. It's Peter's body, and face, and eyes, even if they are currently the inky pupil-blown black that betrays the demon is piloting things.

Paimon looks down to the water, quickly. He finds that he still doesn't really like looking at that reflection. Fortunately, he has some experience with hand-washing, thanks to Luna! ...Unfortunately, it is exclusive only to Luna's Home, and therefore this sink is an Unknown Sink, so he doesn't know what to do with it. Lysithea's guidance is essential.

He resists licking the water from his fingers afterwards and dries them properly instead, then turns to this new task.... excitement growing. Helping her make Sweet Things seems like a very important thing. And oh— he does very much like getting hands-on. Surprisingly, Paimon is extremely meticulous; he'll be careful and thorough with the task, reaching for some dough to imitate what Lysithea does. )

...I like this. ( He confirms to her, nodding with an enthusiasm. ) I should have brought my... things. My art things. We could have put glitter in it. To decorate.

( No.... )

[This is going surprisingly well. Perhaps her self-directed pep talk made a difference after all. Apart from a brief moment when Paimon's tongue seems to flick out after washing his hands, his behavior might almost be considered 'normal' if one were to squint from a fair distnace.

Almost.]

Ah, no. No glitter. We need the food to be edible.

...For humans.

[She quickly appends, realizing that perhaps everything is edible for a demon.]

You want to use the right amount of force. If you knead too much, the dough will become tight and fixed - you'll feel it stiffening. If you don't knead it enough, it will be loose and won't properly adhere.

I have extra, so if you want to see what it looks like what you squish it too much, you can experiment.

( He is somewhat startled by the news that glitter isn't edible. It's not that he goes around eating it on the regular — and apart from chocolate, he really doesn't even like eating all that much; it's weird — but it's so pretty, it would make food look so nice and shiny...

Still, he accepts her words quite easily, seeming to view everything Lysithea says as True and Valid. So there's a nod, and he repeats what she says — every single word, parroting them. )

Ah, no. No glitter. We need the food to be edible. For humans.

( ....He absorbs this information into the archives of himself that way; if he's going to Assist her, he must remember everything she tells him.

And then he's eagerly going to experiment with that, falling very silent and focused, squishing the dough harder and harder until it turns stiffer. He really likes this; it's like clay, which he's played with before. As the small bit he's working with starts getting harder, the demon begins to shape it into something — humanoid, with a head and a body. It looks a lot like a little snowman... and though it's mostly a blob, he's quite serious about the minikin he's making, eyes intense, hands steady.

He finally rolls two little arms out from its sides, and when he's satisfied with it, he slowly and silently slides it over to her. Just going to make you a dough doll.... )

[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.]

There. That's you.

( Honestly, there's no telling who the little figure was originally meant to be, or if there was even some sort of intended outcome to its creation at all. There's just a... need to create within him. Some echo of his past life inside of the little girl — the one who'd been so lost, who'd created strange dolls and figures out of anything she could find. Bits and pieces of items deconstructed and repurposed into imitations of life: animals, people, fusions of different parts. She, he, they, had made sense of the world that way, and expressed themselves so quietly with it.

Like with so many things, Paimon doesn't explicitly remember being inside of Charlie, but that need to make dolls has continued on in him even after being transferred to Peter, like some inherited trait.

But as soon as Lysithea asks, the demon is nodding. Because at once, it becomes her, as easily as that. This is her.

Then he waits and watches as she responds to his creation with one of her own, silently transfixed by the process. Before... eyes wide, he slowly reaches for the doll she holds out for him. This is him. The demon draws it closer, fingers holding onto the dough figure with a careful gentleness that doesn't seem to match his usual twitchy demeanour. There's something much calmer that comes over him as he slowly examines it, turning it around in his fingers. )

This is nice.... You're really good at it.

( His manner of speaking changes too, subtly: there's the use of contractions now, and words, phrasing, that might seem a bit.... odd for the demon to use. He dips his head downwards a little, eyes shyly peeking up at her. )

Do you like making dolls? ....I make them lots.

I couldn't really say. I've never made one before today.

[Lysithea, who is always dreadfully honest, shrugs slightly as she picks up the doll that Paimon had made. Mimicking his motions, her touch is gentle and the doll does not lose its shape in her hands. This does not... entirely fit with her knowledge of Paimon - neither Paimon, the creature inside the human host, nor Paimon, the great demon lord described in the texts. Perhaps this was a quirk borrowed from Peter? But she hadn't ever known him to care about dolls, eitehr.]

If you like dolls, we could make gingerbread men. ...It's not exactly the same, but you'd be rolling up dough into the shape of people.

[...And despite his current (oddly endearing) shyness, some part of her still thinks that the most likely connection here is ancient demon dark magic. Lysithea sets the doll carefully to the side and glances over at Paimon.

He is acting decidedly strange.]

Have you... been making dolls for a long time?

( Gingerbread men? Does he... know that term? He seems to linger on it, thinking deeply for a moment.. but the snippets of association with the concept are strangely out of his reach, and he lets them fizzle away — giving a nod instead, as though making an important decision. )

I'd like to make gingerbread men. We can make everyone we know.

( That's.......... a lot of people....

The question, however, is something he's able to answer. It comes easily to him, even though he shrugs one shoulder upwards and tilts his cheek towards his shoulder to look away from her for a moment, another expression of shyness. )

Pretty long. Mom makes dolls too, but mine are different. ...She still likes them, though. ...She buys me things to make them with.

( All of this is said slowly, and a little awkwardly, but there's a sincerity, too. He hesitates for a moment, before adding something he was especially proud about. )

She bought me a hot glue gun.

Let's call that the next project we work on, then.

[The current dough, sadly, is destined to become sweet buns, light and airy and peppered with little bits of glazed fruit. It would not do to actually bake it in the shape of people. As Paimon? (Paimon? somebody else?) continues to speak, Lysithea tries to affect a casual expression and continue with the process of forming the dough into little spheres.]

Indeed?

I'm afraid I don't know what that is. I can make a guess, I suppose - it shoots glue? To assemble your dolls with?

[Who was it he was referring to as 'Mom'? (Why is it that she thinks of Peter's girlfriend - the one who gifted him the flower.)]

Your mother must enjoy looking at your creations.

( He falls silent for another long moment, trying to think how to describe it. Some times, translating thought to verbal form is harder than other times. But after a moment, he thinks the way she said it describes it best, and nods again. )

It shoots the glue. Then you can put stuff together with it. But sometimes there's strings and you have to pull them off.

( Time-consuming, but a task he'd always taken to with the same methodical precision, pulling thin strings of glue off of fingers. )

She's good at looking. ( He agrees, or... perhaps answers in a different way. It's hard to say what Mom enjoys, sometimes. And she gets mad a lot. )

Does your mom like watching you make things? Food, like this?

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