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video | un: falcogrice

[ on the feed and fixing the device's angle from his lap to hold just a half an arm's length in front of him is a young boy, definitely no more than twelve, with expressive, too-tender doe eyes and a certain amount of calm as he preps to speak. he's also incredibly tiny for the furs draped over his shoulders, now falling into a slant as he brings a hand up to give a little wave. for the most part, he tries for a smile, but the only thing his lips really feel like doing is subtly curving in one direction before he can't bring them to go all the way. the sorry excuse for a smile gets masked by pressing his lips quickly together in an awkward rush. talking to a camera to record these things is always weirder than text, or speaking to people in person. ]

Um, Hi. I'm Falco, and I woke up a few days ago. It's nice to meet everyone. I have a few questions? Not about The Trench, I think I'm all caught up with what's happening. [ at least close to what everyone else seems to know, by asking around, network snooping— it's no wonder that he's spent a few days just to let the information ruminate in his head and settle in. by staring at the ceiling.

either way, he clears his throat! ]

I know some Sleepers might have been in Deerington— but does anyone remember being to other places that aren't your home? Like, different worlds. Specifically South Sister, or California. Or the year 854, if that's familiar? The second thing is . . .

[ falco doesn't say anything and instead, signs: anyone understand? ]

Just curious. [ since if everyone can understand languages . . . ] And, for last. I'm looking for priests that don't use blood for their rituals. For, ah— Exorcism rituals. [ and after an inhale as if he was about to say something more, like an explanation, he shuts up and holds his breath. instead, he starts to scribble something down on spare notebook paper, ] —I can't talk about it if everyone is listening, but if someone can help— [ and then holds up the paper, showing what he's drawn: two "S" marks, put back to back. ] I'll let you know.

[ he supposes that's it, and nods— or more like bows his head. he's beyond polite and respectable as he says: ]

Thank you for watching, and stay safe.

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( Seeing younger people show up here isn't too abnormal, and yet it always causes something to prickle uncomfortably inside of Peter's gut — where his guilty conscience lives, but also... his empathy, his worry.

All of that simply deepens as the boy on his feed continues.

By the end, Peter takes a few long moments to decide whether he should respond — and then realises that of course, he has to. If he can possibly help this boy with the soft, forced attempt at a smile... his own discomforts shouldn't matter. Still, when he turns on his own feed (set to private, because he wants to be... careful, here), he's visibly unsettled, nervous: a young man with dark circles beneath his eyes and a perpetually wounded expression. He seems incredibly uneasy in his own skin. But his voice is soft, gentle. )

Hey there. It's— nice to meet you, too. I'm Peter. ( He smiles a little, but then it falters. He meant to start out casually answering the other questions, but... )

...I don't know those symbols, the ones you drew, but.... I've seen other ones. ( There's the sigil of something ancient carved into Peter's very soul. It's drawn on the walls of his bedroom too, here and there, though he's currently sitting where they can't be seen. Even after all this time, it still scares him. )

Is it something... really powerful? ( 'Dangerous', he almost says, but that's still a word that aches to form associations with for himself, and he can't seem to bring himself to say it out loud to this boy, either. )

[ a private line brings the same relief to falco, visibly, that meeting in person did. not because he didn’t trust anyone (to be honest, he was possibly the most trusting thing in existence), it was that very power that peter describes that he was afraid of. danger. falco’s expression softens considerably at the greeting— peter, even. not the peter parker he became attached to in santa rosita, but the name itself brings a sense of calm and good feeling. he quickly knows how to discern a tired man when his own eyelids would grow heavy if he didn’t watch himself. but luckily for peter, he brings falco to show a bit more of his smile, palpably a touch more at ease. ]

Hi, Mister Peter.

[ that would short lived. question asked, the boy’s eyes give a widen— and they dart left and right, as if he needs to be very cautious of what he says, as if he’s being watched or listened to by eyes and ears nowhere actually on screen. it was more direct, the possible answer. his fingers tap nervously against his knees until he’s curling them, and that nervous energy transfers to the little constant jumping of his leg.

he can only be sure to nod, quick, and swallow dry. and just how powerful—? ]

If I say its name, it can spread.

( Peter doesn't miss that little shift to the younger boy's smile — and it immediately makes his heart feel warmer in a way he's not used to, like maybe he's helping. ...Because he isn't used to this. Reaching out— being the one to offer assistance. For so long, he's been the one trembling in the corner, desperate for guidance and help....

But maybe he can help others too, now.

Being called "mister" is definitely new, and elicits a bit of a bigger smile from him, too. He's only just turned nineteen — some weird age where the childness of him is starting to shed more, where he's tipped closer to adulthood.

But the smile wavers again at what Falco says next. Peter knows there's a certain power in names; his own burden can't be spread the same way as that, but saying Paimon's name is how he's summoned, and it gives the demon a power... It's something Peter hardly dares to say aloud. To hear that this entity is so capable, so... contagious..? The older teen swallows. )

Spread.... to other people? ( He hesitates again, worrying his bottom lip for a moment. )

Is it hurting you? Does it... hurt?

[ yeah. it's that bad. falco answers wordlessly again, another slow tipping nod with his eyes directly on the screen, his brows pinching up with an apology, sorry that it came with him. he'd absolutely hate to bring a spiritual plague to a world already suffering (or any world, at all) and let this thing grow— hence the dire need for some sort of exorcism. south sister wasn't so stocked and the first attempt with a spiritual knight was deadly when performed only by one. ]

Not right now. It's sort of— contained? [ if jun's gift, along with admin's, had also traveled over. ] But it's dangerous to think that way in a place like this.

( "Contained" is definitely a discomforting word. And while Peter's own...affliction can't be spread in such a way, he... knows a certain fear that feels relatable. Because the demon had gotten into someone else's body once, during a brief spell when Peter wasn't around (read: dead because he got hit by a car in Deerington).

It wasn't supposed to happen. Something of Paimon's type of power requires... years and years and much ritual work of prepping a living body to be able to handle hosting it. The person on the other end of that possession had suffered immensely in the process, and it's not something Peter can ever, ever forget. )

I understand. ( A soft exhale, and the older boy's brow pinches together. ) But don't worry. You're not alone. There are other people here who have... strange things inside them. And there are definitely people who can help.

( Peter offers another little smile, trying to reassure the other boy. Of course, it wavers again in the next moment as he tries to get some more information, make sure Falco won't be at risk of being hurt. )

But this thing... is there any chance it could try to retaliate, if you do look for help? Is it... like alive?

[ talking of it this way was no true danger, not when it was just with peter, generalizing, and with him as the only source. even if it makes his gut tense with nervousness, it’s fine— plus, the older boy has managed to keep falco’s smile for a bit longer. it doesn’t flee this time, though not entirely potent like a grin. ]

I think . . . No. I mean, It’s alive, I think? If spirits can do that— Maybe just not like you and me. [ though that’s an answer he’s visibly not sure he’s pinpointing, so, he moves on the the description. ] But it won’t try anything now, even if it knows. Only if someone tries to take it out by force, or . . . If I panic.

[ panic is all the juice it needs to thrive, and of course it would take any remaining bouts of energy it had to stay in its host. ]

People back in South Sister would always help me stay calm and focus on other things, while the priests thought of something. [ he rubs the back of his neck, where his brand is. ] Are you one of those people you mentioned, Mister Peter? You’ve got something like this?

( Peter's listening intently, giving the younger boy all of his focus. He knows what it is to have to be nervous about talking aloud on it, too — though he never knows when his own beast may be listening, lurking, absorbing information. It stayed quiet for a long time before Peter ever really knew what it even was. There's... a perpetual anxiety, like he can never fully let himself relax. It's why he seems on-edge constantly, nerves on display. But when faced with someone else..... there is this need to try and help soothe, and Peter finds his voice continues to be soft and gentle and relaxing, like how Luna is when she talks to him, trying to keep down his own tendency to panic.

The question gives him another pause, uneasiness trickling in. Peter still defaults to wanting to hide his own... affliction, but.. as of late, things have been changing; he's been feeling a certain responsibility to tell people, even if carefully. Especially if he could potentially help this boy. )

I uh.... I do. It's... not exactly like what you're saying, I think, but— ( Describing it is still such a strange, complicated thing, and his hands wind together nervously, slender fingers restless. It's a presence wound up in his family history, in years and years of ancient ritual, in things he still doesn't fully understand. His fate? )

Something was... put into me. By people back in my home world. It's... well, a kind of demon? ( Just outright saying it like that feels so anti-climatic, and yet Peter's breath falters a little to voice the mere word aloud. He moves past the confessed word quickly— )

—But I've met people who know about things like that, people who came here too, and— maybe they could help you. Um... there's someone named John Constantine? He's.. he specialises in things like this. He's a really good guy.

[ a demon. he's heard the word and the concept and he'll hear it even more. falco is as sympathetic as he is empathetic, so much of his heart goes out to the older boy— especially after recognizing his efforts. it's kind. and kindness, falco knows that depending on the place is difficult to come by.

quickly, slightly off-screen, falco scribbles the name down and quietly repeats it under his breath: john constantine. he'll message him, for sure. ]

Does it hurt you? Or, at least . . . Does Mister John help you with it?

( It's really so strange to say it, to let himself say it when he used to hide it so desperately. But it's become a part of his identity now: black hair, brown eyes, age nineteen, host to a demon.

And though Peter is no exorcist himself, has no skills at all on his own that could be useful, maybe he can at least offer some sort of companionship for whatever this young boy is going through. He... tries to relax a bit, tries to stop skirting past what he just admitted. )

Sometimes— not as much as it used to. John's been helping me a lot. He's good at uh... keeping this thing in line. ( ...aka Paimon gets put in timeout when he needs to be. And the exorcist has a wealth of spells that can be used to tame a savage Hell king when he gets fitful. )

And my girlfriend, she's.. a witch? She can help with things like that too. Like, if you ever need a little help keeping calm, she can make calming draughts? They're great for that kind of thing.

( Peter nods, offers another soft smile. )

We'll help you.

[ falco can tell that courage is being met with courage, and that it gives opening for something already soothing for him to hear and take in. ]

Thank you . . . Thank you, Mister Peter. [ for the support, for the possible help from others that he could seek, and for being one person he’s sure to continue seeking for anything, enough that he feels the need to thank him twice. that, and look even rosier than usual when his interest in romance (and perhaps a lighter topic) wasn’t at all scarce. ] You have a girlfriend?

[ with a small crack in his voice, a certain tone of wow, that’s so neat or on par with i want to be like you one day. of course, at his age, you’d expect a boy to be curious of intimacy, even though he’s only really scratched the surface of interest himself. like, handholding sounds like a ride that would shoot his heart into the sky. he hasn’t had the time or maturity to parse out the rest, but he knew that he wanted to get married. one day. in six years.

(he’s counting) ]

( There's a soft breath exhaled at the thanks. He doesn't feel like he's— done enough, not really, and he's still not used to things like this, being... thanked. Helping. He's so often on the other end of it, or..... hiding himself away.

It makes his heart ache in a good way, and a sad one, and Peter smiles gently back for a moment. Awkward, shy— he doesn't actually say anything verbal in response, but it's there. He's so glad to help at all, if he really has. This boy...he can't be any older than Charlie was.

Then the shift to something else, and Peter finds himself surprised by it in another way. He's not used to this, either. The smile, immediately, turns a little dopey. )

Yeah— I uh. Her name's Luna. ( Some of that perpetual gloom flickers away a little as he says it, a soft glow that makes the dark browns of his eyes a little brighter. )

She's the sweetest. The sweetest person I've ever met. She'd help you with anything.

( ....He does have to gush a little. Don't mind him. )

[ sweet, helpful— it matches well with peter, from what little he’s seen of him. falco too was of similar profile, but he’s been hooked up on gabi for ages and doesn’t see himself wanting to change. she wasn’t exactly sweet, or kind . . . but she had her spicy spark. dependable and passionate. ]

You met her here, or—?

[ he’s loosening up, and the interest he has on the topic is clear as glass— not on Luna, specifically, but, you know. he’ll get there, too, one day. ]

( Peter can see it, hear it: the way the younger boy loosens, some of that tightly-wound anxiety uncurling. It's nice, needed — those little doses of normalcy inbetween all of the scary things. )

We met in a place before this one — you'll probably hear people talking about it a lot. It was called Deerington? It uh... it was pretty wild there, and she helped me — we helped each other. And we decided to come to this place together. ( Peter lets himself ease into the topic, even though the tips of his ears go a bit red..... He's still very inexperienced with the matters of relationships, much less talking about them out loud. Though it is clear that Falco's very curious about it, and after a moment, Peter smiles again. )

Do you have someone like that?

[ oh, boy, does he. they were really good friends, he thinks, and they’ve been through a lot, and while they haven’t touched up on relationship status— it was more a given than anything else.

falco’s chest gives a little visible puff. ]

Well, um, [ right before he thought he’d die, ] I told her I wanted us to get married one day and she didn’t say no.

[ in fact, they got even closer. it’s only a matter of time before he can hold her hand . . . !

as you can see, falco goes hard on the romance. ]

Her name’s Gabi.

( Oh— that's— cute. Peter's smile breaches "grin" territory again, mouth widening into something that feels more genuine than carefully guarded hints at smiles. )

Dude, that's awesome.

( Of course he's going to encourage this innocent-and-yet-very-serious romantic endeavour! This kid's so cute and earnest that Peter almost can't stand it. )

What's she like?

[ the one thing falco would have an entire essay written about who is gabi and why do you like her— oh, he wished he still had that picture of her (that he’ll be getting back, come their future endeavors). ]

Okay, just— don’t tell anyone else. [ this is exposure, peter! the enthusiasm is too sincere! ] She’s really passionate about the things she does. Maybe a little too much, sometimes. [ it’s also her greatest weakness— but she’s learned. she’s gotten better. ] She can get carried away easy— but she’s more determined than anyone else I know, and she owns up to her mistakes. A-and, she’s caring, too. A lot.

[ he’s about to open his mouth to continue, but holds back when he realizes he’s probably said enough already.

promptly after, he finds a place for his beet red face in his hands. ]

Oh, don't worry— totally just between us, ( Peter promises. There might be a few years between them — enough that Falco's on the "entering" and Peter's on the "leaving" sides of teenagehood, placing them at two opposite ends of a spectrum — but he hasn't forgotten what it's like to be younger and nervous in a particular way, about such matters. First real crushes — where it starts feeling serious...

And he's listening, the way his parents never had: genuinely interested, not out of some quiet obligation. The way his smile widens a little isn't meant teasingly; there's something almost fond to it — this is a completely new experience for him, listening to a younger person gush about first loves, and Peter actually getting to be there for such a thing. )

Dude... she sounds so cool? I'm happy for you. ( Of course, seconds after he says that, there's an odd little pang inside him, because talking about someone who isn't here, who lives back in one's homeworld, is... strange and hard and he's sure Falco misses her terribly. )

Do you have any pictures of her or anything like that....?

[ you know what’s the best thing after gushing about someone, something? when you’re returned with generous ears. it makes falco a little less embarrassed that he is gushing, but enthused that he has someone to share it with in the first place. gabi’s all over the place when he talks about her, it’s absolutely the best way to raise his spirits.

because, look? peter gets it. ]

I did— I got one last Christmas, in picture frames. [ despite being raptured to not one horror island, but two before trench, that may have been one of the best things he’s gotten out of it. ] If I ever get it back one day, I’ll show you.

( "Hope" isn't a word that's too common in Peter's vocabulary — even before all of... this happened. He's a pessimist...

But it was there, a little flicker of it. A hope that maybe the younger boy showed up here with photos of his loved ones already with him, the way a lot of people seem to. Back in Deerington, it happened like that, too. Peter's still not sure if it's supposed to be a kindness or a cruelty. )

Oh. ( His brows knit, something apologetic seeping through there. He's sorry that they're not already with Falco here, but.... )

There's a really good chance you will. Things like photos... they seem to show up a lot. ( Peter offers a little smile, a dared dose of hope. )

[ despite so many things that happened, falco could find his hope tucked and lively as much as his will to stay alive was beating. those pictures were an extra light that’d remind him of that every day past the ones always flashing in his head. ]

I’ll let you know, Mister Peter.

[ that last part made it all the more frightening to consider, causing falco’s brows to knit with concern. ]

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video | un: falcogrice

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