She treasures all the little gifts she gets from Paimon. She has a box she keeps them all in, so they're all together. So she can find them and look at them whenever she wants. Tuck them behind her ear or twirl them between her fingers. Remind herself that she has two friends in Peter.
"I never had friends, either. You're my first real friend. Other than Simon, but he's my brother and therefore required to be my friend."
Peter can't help laughing at that — amused, as he often is, by the things River says. Never in a teasing way. It's only a happy way; she makes him happy.
"Brother Obligations, huh?" His smile softens, and it's his turn to reach over, find River's hand. Peter's always had troubles with touch, but with her it's easy. He takes the smaller hand gently into his, fingers giving it a soft squeeze. He knows she's known so much loneliness, too.
"We're friends for life." It's a promise, like the bracelet she'd made him, and the one he'll make for her in return. Whatever happens in the future, he'll keep her. "Until we both have grey hair and matching walkers."
River blushes faintly, instinctively shaking her hair in front of her face to hide it. Oh, she adores Peter. His little touches, the way he holds and squeezes her hand. The way he lets her hug him even though he doesn't very much like being touched.
She tangles their fingers together and squeezes back. "According to superstition, the bond breaks when the bracelet does. But I've never been one for superstition. And new bracelets can be made."
Peter's smile grows, warms, as their hands connect like that, fingers entwined.
"You're right — we can make tons of them." He's not one for superstition either; if they break, they'll make new. ....Paimon, on the other hand, might place a very severe importance in the meaning of the bracelets, the word bond. He'll probably be guarding his with his life...
"Besides, I could use all the practice I can get..." Peter grins again, reaching for the pink and purple threads he'd picked out. No doubt, his first attempt is going to be less than perfect....
"Do you want some music in the background? I can put something on."
"Yes. We'll have music and food and crafts and friendship. I can think of no more perfect afternoon." Maybe dancing. Maybe she can convince him to dance with her, later.
"It isn't so bad, when you get started," she promises. "Once you have the pattern and the rhythm down, it repeats." She pauses, considering, and then adds more softly, "It can be messy, if it needs to be."
It might take quite a bit of coaxing to get this one to dance. Then again... Peter has the Softest of Spots for River Tam, so it might take hardly any coaxing at all!
He's looking down at the threads, and though he's nothing but comfortable here in this room with his very best friend, there is that familiar little twinge of something that squirms in his stomach. That whisper that he doesn't know how to do things, isn't good enough at it, is inevitably going to come out with something silly-looking. He knows River wouldn't mind; she'd cherish it no matter what it looks like.
But it's still there, that discomforting little thing; Peter gets so easily intimidated in the face of even the most simple tasks. It's a wonder he's made it through college as far as he had, in all honesty. But River's been there helping him, whether it's with homework he wasn't able to understand or helping him study, break things down.
He looks up when she says it can be messy, if it needs to. Peter's eyelids flutter softly; how does she always know what to say? A soothing balm against his spirit. His smile gently returns and he gives a little nod. It can be messy. It's all right.
So after turning on some music (some random indie playlist, peak College Kid Vibes) he starts threading the pattern, starting slowly. The gesture seems to further soothe something in him, and maybe that's Paimon, who finds comfort in making things.
"How's yours coming?" Peter asks after a little while, looking over at hers, dark eyes a little hazy in a comfortable, relaxed way. His own is coming along pretty well — not even in every spot, but it's gotten better and better the more he goes.
Sometimes, they both need permission for things. River often requires permission to relax. To not always strive for perfection in all the does. To not always need to be busy, or working. Peter allows her this.
In turn, River can allow Peter to be imperfect at new things. They let the other be... human. Be teenagers. Something they don't get very often, elsewhere.
So she smiles when she sees Peter relax a little, returning to her own bracelet (she's forced herself to slow down, keeping pace with Peter). "Moving steadily forward."
Sitting here amongst a pile of snacks and thread and music, piecing together something for her, Peter does feel very human. In a way sometimes he has to try to grasp like some distant memory, but with River, the feeling comes naturally. He doesn't have to try, to remember how to be a person again.
He can tell she's slowed down for him, biting his lip to hide another shy little smile.
"It looks good." The praise comes soft and gentle; he's proud of her work, whether it's figuring out complicated problems or threading a bracelet.
After a few more moments, he's giving a soft laugh as he holds his work up to examine. "I think I'm done...! I just need to measure it on your wrist." He lifts it towards her; he wants it to fit perfectly.
Human, that's it. River gets to be a real, human girl when she's with Peter, and that is worth everything.
It's messy and tangled in some places, and it's absolutely perfect. River adores it with every piece of her heart, because Peter made it and all the pieces of her heart already belong to him.
She holds out her wrist for him to measure, to tie it on. "It's wonderful. The colours go."
Peter's slow and careful as he adjusts the bracelet against River's wrist, finding the right tightness: not too much, but secure. Then he's tying it, gazing down at his own handiwork, the finished result.
He has to admit, he really does like how it's turned out. Especially now that it's on her, and a smile spreads again, one that reaches his eyes. "It looks good on you. Perfect."
Not perfect — not with its uneven threading in some places and the way he's mixed up a colour pattern or two. But perfect in the sense that he thinks it's perfect for her. He's proud of it in his shy way, and holds up his wrist to gently tap his own bracelet against hers.
It is perfect for her. All her oddities and imperfections there in the bracelet. Captured so neatly in knotted thread.
River carefully ties Paimon's bracelet onto Peter's other wrist, and taps her bracelet against each one in turn. Sealing the bond between herself and both halves of Peter.
Peter goes very still as River ties the other bracelet against his wrist. There's a soft laugh at her words, and a grin — truly, there's no greater connection than that forged through doritos.
And then something flutters: some awareness, the Other Thing recognising that it's been given a gift. That's... important. Very important to how it functions. And it's moments like this that truly reach that ancient thing.
Whatever The People who own him are waiting for, whatever they want him to someday do... in moments like this, Paimon's simply something that sits quietly, wanting to create and be reached out to in such soft ways. River knows how. The demon feels seen by her in the particular way it needs to be. Bound, she says. Words like bound are important, too.
Peter's eyelids flicker, and the shift is very subtle, unassuming. His head simply tilts a little, and then his hand — the one River's just tied the bracelet to — lifts to her cheek, fingertips gently grazing it. Almost exploratory, and maybe even affectionate.
"Oh -- " She knows that tilt of the head. The slight uptick of the chin that indicates Peter is gone for the moment. But that's okay. She's given The Other One a gift, and he deserves to see it. She can ask for Peter back. The Other One listens to her, most of the time.
"Hello, there," she says softly, resting her hand on top of the one near her cheek, tipping her head to properly lay her hand against his palm. "Do you like your bracelet."
The thing pools in, slowly, eyes filling up with something swollen and alien and shimmering. It watches River, unblinking, fingertips curving ever-so-gently against her head as she rests it against his palm.
There's a long pause as he takes in the question, and then he nods, a slow movement. His other hand reaches to touch the threads of the bracelet, giving them a little stroke.
"Perfect."
The word's an imitation of what Peter just said. It's perfect, to him. For him. His other hand reaches to the top of her head, stroking her hair affectionately. He's filled with pride for his bracelet, and what it represents.
"Bound."
It's probably fine for a demon to think it's bound to you!
"Unbreaking," she nods, closing her eyes with a sigh as Paimon pets her hair. Enjoying the caresses. The softness of his touches. How gentle he is. Surprisingly so, for what he is.
But she knows he'd never hurt her. Knows how protective he is of her, and that makes her feel safe.
She understands. The girl — who seems to be unlike most humans — has always understood. He doesn't know why he and Peter have found her, only that he wants to keep her. That he will keep her.
He continues petting her hair for a moment, before he quietly slips away, moving with a liquid grace that isn't quite Peter's, to find something under the bed.... It's there in a little box tucked away. Peter doesn't know about it; the demon has his own secrets. That's important for him.
He finds an item from it and returns the box to the darkness under the bed, before moving to crouch in front of River. In his palm he holds a gift, in return for the one she'd given him. It's... an old button. The edges are faded and chipped, and the diamond probably isn't real. But it shines, and he'd felt it was a good treasure.
"Oh!" River brings her hands to her mouth, excited. Thrilled and touched and delighted at her treasure. She takes it carefully, rubbing her thumb over it. Feeling out the texture of the likely fake diamond (she doesn't care, it shines and it's beautiful and she adores it). "I'll find a place to put it. A pouch, a little bag. Something special just for it. And then I can keep it in my satchel always. Or my pocket. It will always be with me."
She cups Paimon's face in her hands and kisses the corner of his mouth. Softly, with the utmost sweetness and tenderness and love behind it. "It's beautiful. It's perfect."
River's delight is palpable, a sweep of energy that feels like bubbles, and light. She's satisfied with the gift — and even more than that, happy with it. He knows she appreciates little treasures as much as he does, and the demon's pleased, feels himself warming with the sensation. He's done well, done what he's supposed to do. Made someone fulfilled. He likes her energy when it's happy. He's seen it when it's not, when it's sad, and lonesome.
His eyes widen as River takes his face, presses her mouth gently to the corner of his. He's not very used to physical affection, but he likes the softness to the way she holds him. It feels safe, and good, and Paimon's staring with saucer eyes that are buzzing, shimmering, sparkling. Almost shyly, he reaches out to gingerly touch her mouth with his fingertips: he, something curious and childlike, and yet something strange and ancient all in the same vein.
"I will give you many things. Good things. And keep you safe."
River smiles and purses her lips to press a kiss to his fingertips, too. Because all parts of him deserve sweetness, and softness. She loves that Paimon thinks she deserves, even needs gifts. Gives her something lovely that shines, like she knows he likes.
Tomorrow, she decides, she'll go to the thrift store and find a special bag that will hold all his treasures. Perhaps Peter will join her, too.
"I know you will," she says softly, pressing her fingertips to his lips in return. Gesture for gesture. "I trust you to keep me safe."
She gives him more affections with her mouth — pressing it to the tips of his fingers. The strange thing continues to stare, warmed by her comfortability with him. He doesn't often interact with humans here in this institution; there's no real need to, and he doesn't know how. Though he does enjoying learning, and often listens in on Peter's lectures.... but directly interacting with people is very rare. His only true connection is River, and he is pleased that she feels so at ease with him.
Then her fingers are to his mouth, and the demon knows what it means. An equal exchange; she understands. He doesn't quite know how to kiss, he's never done it before. But he imitates like a little bird, pressing his lips purposefully against her fingertips.
It's a little... offbeat, a little strange, but there's something soft through the alienness of him.
"I will stay with you. All night."
....Someone doesn't want to leave... but Peter was here first, Paimon.
Ah. She's not disappointed at the idea. Or nervous, no not at all. There have been plenty of nights spent in Paimon's arms. Comforted by his strange presence. Whispering softly back and forth.
She know Peter worries, what Paimon might do while he's out. But River feels comfortable with him. Can speak with him, negotiate with him. The strange, ancient thing listens to her. Respects her wishes.
Which is why she feels comfortable enough to put her foot down. "We can spend some time together. But I came to spend the night with Peter. Two hours? We can have two whole hours together, but then I would like to see Peter again, please."
There are rules to what he is, and many of those rules are centered around boundary. The demon was never meant to roam freely, but rather to stay tethered to something, and to be given specific requests. River establishing a certain amount of time doesn't feel limiting, but rather, appeases his spirit. Paimon sits up straighter, eyes sparkling. He feels very pleased; he gets two whole hours together with River.
"I understand." He says, solemnly. He will give Peter back to her in exactly two hours. The agreement has been reached; he would never break it.
"We can make more things. Or explore this establishment. Or read." He lists some of his favouritie activities to do with River — of course, by "read" he means her reading to him.... Would he happily lie there while she reads to him for two hours straight? Absolutely.
Two hours seems like a reasonable time to give Paimon. It's enough time to get a project done, if they want to do a project. Or take a walk around campus. She knows that Paimon likes rules and boundaries and so she's always careful to give them. Especially stay close when they're out together. She prefers holding hands and keeping him tethered to her as much as possible.
Their time together is surprisingly quiet. Paimon, laying with his head in her lap, River's fingers in his hair as she reads to him. Making art. Though sometimes glitter is involved.
"We could draw, if you'd like. Or I could teach you to braid, like the ones Peter and I made. The weather isn't nice, for a walk."
His Alone Time with River is very important, for many reasons. It's largely the time in which the demon gets to express creativity, to exert some energy, to breathe fresh air. It gives him connection with another being, and it allows him to learn more about this world in which he's been contained.
It also lets him make choices, such as now. River is letting him pick, decide. Such opportunity is rare for Paimon, and even something so simple as choosing what he wants to do with his time is... meaningful. He's quiet for a few long moments, thinking very seriously about it. Then— an idea.
"There is something... something I have been.... wanting." To do. To try. He stands again, pads over to Peter's desk to retrieve something. After a few moments he brings the items back — a couple of nail polishes, one black and one green. He presents them to Rover solemnly, placing them in her hands carefully.
"These are.... special. Paints for fingers. My host uses them. You can, too."
River equally enjoys her time with Peter and with Paimon. She feels like she learns so much from both of them. And both of them have such different interests, so alone time with them both is always a little new and different. It makes it exciting.
Oh -- she knows this. "Nail polish," she says, turning them over in her hand. The green is a beautiful deep emerald. The black is something she's seen Peter wear on occasion. Memories of chipped paint on his nails as he strums his guitar for her.
"Would you like me to paint your nails for you? I can do that if you come sit with me."
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"I never had friends, either. You're my first real friend. Other than Simon, but he's my brother and therefore required to be my friend."
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"Brother Obligations, huh?" His smile softens, and it's his turn to reach over, find River's hand. Peter's always had troubles with touch, but with her it's easy. He takes the smaller hand gently into his, fingers giving it a soft squeeze. He knows she's known so much loneliness, too.
"We're friends for life." It's a promise, like the bracelet she'd made him, and the one he'll make for her in return. Whatever happens in the future, he'll keep her. "Until we both have grey hair and matching walkers."
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She tangles their fingers together and squeezes back. "According to superstition, the bond breaks when the bracelet does. But I've never been one for superstition. And new bracelets can be made."
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"You're right — we can make tons of them." He's not one for superstition either; if they break, they'll make new. ....Paimon, on the other hand, might place a very severe importance in the meaning of the bracelets, the word bond. He'll probably be guarding his with his life...
"Besides, I could use all the practice I can get..." Peter grins again, reaching for the pink and purple threads he'd picked out. No doubt, his first attempt is going to be less than perfect....
"Do you want some music in the background? I can put something on."
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"It isn't so bad, when you get started," she promises. "Once you have the pattern and the rhythm down, it repeats." She pauses, considering, and then adds more softly, "It can be messy, if it needs to be."
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He's looking down at the threads, and though he's nothing but comfortable here in this room with his very best friend, there is that familiar little twinge of something that squirms in his stomach. That whisper that he doesn't know how to do things, isn't good enough at it, is inevitably going to come out with something silly-looking. He knows River wouldn't mind; she'd cherish it no matter what it looks like.
But it's still there, that discomforting little thing; Peter gets so easily intimidated in the face of even the most simple tasks. It's a wonder he's made it through college as far as he had, in all honesty. But River's been there helping him, whether it's with homework he wasn't able to understand or helping him study, break things down.
He looks up when she says it can be messy, if it needs to. Peter's eyelids flutter softly; how does she always know what to say? A soothing balm against his spirit. His smile gently returns and he gives a little nod. It can be messy. It's all right.
So after turning on some music (some random indie playlist, peak College Kid Vibes) he starts threading the pattern, starting slowly. The gesture seems to further soothe something in him, and maybe that's Paimon, who finds comfort in making things.
"How's yours coming?" Peter asks after a little while, looking over at hers, dark eyes a little hazy in a comfortable, relaxed way. His own is coming along pretty well — not even in every spot, but it's gotten better and better the more he goes.
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In turn, River can allow Peter to be imperfect at new things. They let the other be... human. Be teenagers. Something they don't get very often, elsewhere.
So she smiles when she sees Peter relax a little, returning to her own bracelet (she's forced herself to slow down, keeping pace with Peter). "Moving steadily forward."
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He can tell she's slowed down for him, biting his lip to hide another shy little smile.
"It looks good." The praise comes soft and gentle; he's proud of her work, whether it's figuring out complicated problems or threading a bracelet.
After a few more moments, he's giving a soft laugh as he holds his work up to examine. "I think I'm done...! I just need to measure it on your wrist." He lifts it towards her; he wants it to fit perfectly.
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It's messy and tangled in some places, and it's absolutely perfect. River adores it with every piece of her heart, because Peter made it and all the pieces of her heart already belong to him.
She holds out her wrist for him to measure, to tie it on. "It's wonderful. The colours go."
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He has to admit, he really does like how it's turned out. Especially now that it's on her, and a smile spreads again, one that reaches his eyes. "It looks good on you. Perfect."
Not perfect — not with its uneven threading in some places and the way he's mixed up a colour pattern or two. But perfect in the sense that he thinks it's perfect for her. He's proud of it in his shy way, and holds up his wrist to gently tap his own bracelet against hers.
"We're really a dynamic duo now."
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River carefully ties Paimon's bracelet onto Peter's other wrist, and taps her bracelet against each one in turn. Sealing the bond between herself and both halves of Peter.
"Bound together by thread and fate. And doritos."
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And then something flutters: some awareness, the Other Thing recognising that it's been given a gift. That's... important. Very important to how it functions. And it's moments like this that truly reach that ancient thing.
Whatever The People who own him are waiting for, whatever they want him to someday do... in moments like this, Paimon's simply something that sits quietly, wanting to create and be reached out to in such soft ways. River knows how. The demon feels seen by her in the particular way it needs to be. Bound, she says. Words like bound are important, too.
Peter's eyelids flicker, and the shift is very subtle, unassuming. His head simply tilts a little, and then his hand — the one River's just tied the bracelet to — lifts to her cheek, fingertips gently grazing it. Almost exploratory, and maybe even affectionate.
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"Hello, there," she says softly, resting her hand on top of the one near her cheek, tipping her head to properly lay her hand against his palm. "Do you like your bracelet."
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There's a long pause as he takes in the question, and then he nods, a slow movement. His other hand reaches to touch the threads of the bracelet, giving them a little stroke.
"Perfect."
The word's an imitation of what Peter just said. It's perfect, to him. For him. His other hand reaches to the top of her head, stroking her hair affectionately. He's filled with pride for his bracelet, and what it represents.
"Bound."
It's probably fine for a demon to think it's bound to you!
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But she knows he'd never hurt her. Knows how protective he is of her, and that makes her feel safe.
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He continues petting her hair for a moment, before he quietly slips away, moving with a liquid grace that isn't quite Peter's, to find something under the bed.... It's there in a little box tucked away. Peter doesn't know about it; the demon has his own secrets. That's important for him.
He finds an item from it and returns the box to the darkness under the bed, before moving to crouch in front of River. In his palm he holds a gift, in return for the one she'd given him. It's... an old button. The edges are faded and chipped, and the diamond probably isn't real. But it shines, and he'd felt it was a good treasure.
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She cups Paimon's face in her hands and kisses the corner of his mouth. Softly, with the utmost sweetness and tenderness and love behind it. "It's beautiful. It's perfect."
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His eyes widen as River takes his face, presses her mouth gently to the corner of his. He's not very used to physical affection, but he likes the softness to the way she holds him. It feels safe, and good, and Paimon's staring with saucer eyes that are buzzing, shimmering, sparkling. Almost shyly, he reaches out to gingerly touch her mouth with his fingertips: he, something curious and childlike, and yet something strange and ancient all in the same vein.
"I will give you many things. Good things. And keep you safe."
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Tomorrow, she decides, she'll go to the thrift store and find a special bag that will hold all his treasures. Perhaps Peter will join her, too.
"I know you will," she says softly, pressing her fingertips to his lips in return. Gesture for gesture. "I trust you to keep me safe."
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Then her fingers are to his mouth, and the demon knows what it means. An equal exchange; she understands. He doesn't quite know how to kiss, he's never done it before. But he imitates like a little bird, pressing his lips purposefully against her fingertips.
It's a little... offbeat, a little strange, but there's something soft through the alienness of him.
"I will stay with you. All night."
....Someone doesn't want to leave... but Peter was here first, Paimon.
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She know Peter worries, what Paimon might do while he's out. But River feels comfortable with him. Can speak with him, negotiate with him. The strange, ancient thing listens to her. Respects her wishes.
Which is why she feels comfortable enough to put her foot down. "We can spend some time together. But I came to spend the night with Peter. Two hours? We can have two whole hours together, but then I would like to see Peter again, please."
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"I understand." He says, solemnly. He will give Peter back to her in exactly two hours. The agreement has been reached; he would never break it.
"We can make more things. Or explore this establishment. Or read." He lists some of his favouritie activities to do with River — of course, by "read" he means her reading to him.... Would he happily lie there while she reads to him for two hours straight? Absolutely.
"I will do anything you like."
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Their time together is surprisingly quiet. Paimon, laying with his head in her lap, River's fingers in his hair as she reads to him. Making art. Though sometimes glitter is involved.
"We could draw, if you'd like. Or I could teach you to braid, like the ones Peter and I made. The weather isn't nice, for a walk."
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It also lets him make choices, such as now. River is letting him pick, decide. Such opportunity is rare for Paimon, and even something so simple as choosing what he wants to do with his time is... meaningful. He's quiet for a few long moments, thinking very seriously about it. Then— an idea.
"There is something... something I have been.... wanting." To do. To try. He stands again, pads over to Peter's desk to retrieve something. After a few moments he brings the items back — a couple of nail polishes, one black and one green. He presents them to Rover solemnly, placing them in her hands carefully.
"These are.... special. Paints for fingers. My host uses them. You can, too."
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Oh -- she knows this. "Nail polish," she says, turning them over in her hand. The green is a beautiful deep emerald. The black is something she's seen Peter wear on occasion. Memories of chipped paint on his nails as he strums his guitar for her.
"Would you like me to paint your nails for you? I can do that if you come sit with me."
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