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[ Paul was more than free to take his seat. making sure he’s close enough to tend to Confetti, Falco shifts his own sitting position onto the floor, where he has an ample enough reach. his fingers graze the ball the egg is playing with to cause a reaction, just a small little back and forth slide; Confetti playfully paps his tiny feather-paws after it. ]

How to talk to ghosts. [ ghosts? monsters? the silence was many things, and didn’t stick to one category of being. ] Or— parasites.

[ Falco’s inquiry doesn’t come with empty hands; he’s already tried what was within his knowledge and reach, but he hasn’t given up. ]

I haven’t had luck by myself.

Edited 2022-06-18 18:51 (UTC)

[Moments like this are sometimes disorienting in a way Paul has yet to fully articulate to himself. He leans over his knees watching a boy play with a little animal, asking earnest questions in trust that he might have answers to provide, and it's like a memory mirrored, nostalgia from someone else's point of view.

The specific content of this question doesn't help. Paul knits his fingers together and makes a soft, non-committal sound in the back of his throat, closer to assent than denial.]

I've done something like that before. [It didn't go well.] I could try to do it again. And there are people I know I can ask.

[Ghost and parasite in conjunction make him think revenant, but he can't assume, whatever prescient sparks buzz in the fluid of his spine.]

[ the reply makes the boy breathe out an exhale he was withholding. it wasn't exactly bad news, but it wasn't the best of news, either. one should be cautious. ]

—But, there's safety involved, right? [ and if he hadn't been clear— ] Like, in numbers? Or wards?

[ falco too, has had a one-time botched exorcism too many. if anyone was going to do anything related to "the thing", it wasn't going to be without the correct precautions. not ever again. ]

[Paul smiles as reassuringly as he knows how to, which is exceptionally so. (He doesn't know it's one of those rare expressions that bring out his resemblance to his father, and Falco has no context to recognize it either.)]

Of course.

[He holds out a hand palm up, then half-curls his fingers like a wall of stakes around its empty center.]

The Pale Sanctuary is one of the safest places to explore things like that in Trench. I have a whole room warded there, and even if you're by yourself, you're never far from help. We wouldn't be, if you're asking for mine.

Alone, I mean.

[ it was probably a strange thing to be smiling to, all this possible ghost-parasite-communication. it’s not that that’s comforted falco, though; it’s obviously the security he feels in the offer. it makes his shoulders visibly relax, and allows him to roll the all he’d partially forgotten about back and forth from confetti’s reach. he’s grown to comfortable harmlessly chewing on it. ]

I’d feel better with that— with you, and the Sanctuary.

[ with confetti finally catching up, falco eyes a spot, and rolls the ball to paul’s shoe. ]

If you’ll have me.

[Paul catches the ball beneath his toes, rolling it back and forth lightly underneath them as he looks between the boy and his little creature. The subtle alchemy of togetherness has worked its magic again; Falco is readily upset, but willing to be soothed, which isn't the same thing as being easy to soothe.

So this is an accomplishment. It's one he's as proud of, in that still funny domestic way, as considering the right kind of toy for Confetti. He nudges the ball back to him with a loosening in his own shoulders above it.]

I'll always have you. That's what I'm here for.

[It's becoming more and more a part of him, this new and different purpose. That's what I'm here for, and the more he can say it, the more he can believe it, too.]

Now let's not worry about that until I have things ready for you, all right? Tell me...tell me a story about something Confetti did.

[ that's an easy and prompt choice to make if one wanted falco to steer into a broadening smile, reaching for the ovoid babe to fit into the space his legs leave when crossed. while bouncing confetti on his lap and being given an elated babble, falco starts his story: of a recent incident in the grass while playing a harmless game of "fly confetti" (with no actual throwing involved! only safe steering in his arms).

the creature had nuzzled close to his face when brought back down, and falco had cuddled it like he would any little thing he dearly loved. he was given a kiss, a little avian touch of the beak to his cheek complete with a clicking sound to imitate a smack— and he got dizzy.

so dizzy that is was both a little scary and a touch funny. if that's what it's like getting drunk, falco doesn't ever want to drink. like, ever. ]

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