Posted. It’s kinda shitty but I just wanted to get something up before I went to bed, I'm gonna be swamped with work tomorrow. x.x
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- Phloem 11 yrs ago
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GEEETTTTTTT DUNKED ON
[ 19 - they/them - ISTP - GMT+8 ]
this is phloem and i'm literally the worst
...forreal tho hmu if you wanna rp
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Wiping his still-bloody hands off on a towel, Paimon gave the corpse one last onceover before he headed on his way. From what he could tell so far, Dominique’s presence was marked by several others around him, many of them inhuman. Huh. Perhaps Taco Bell was more popular with the supernatural than he’d realised. Still though, he was too far away to be able to sense any specific details about these beings. But whatever they were, it was nothing he couldn’t handle, right? Shaking any remaining doubt out of his head, Paimon worked on honing in on Dominique’s location, and with a metaphorical swish-and-flick, he was gone.
The next thing he knew, Paimon found himself standing in an alleyway, asphalt slippery with ice and melted snow. He liked to think it was good practice to give your destinations a wide berth. After all, you never know just who or what you might encounter. Now that he was closer, however, the demon was beginning to pick up quite the array of signatures. The souls of every creature were different, and apart from the humans and demons, which he’d expected -- there were a few others. One in particular caught his attention, it was something primordial. Something ancient.
At that very moment, Paimon realised exactly just what this being was. How could he have been so blind? In all his years on earth, only one kind of creature gave off such an aura of hunger and agelessness -- Leviathan. What were they doing at a Taco Bell? Paimon had no idea, but he wasn’t about to stick around to find out. Part of him entertained the choice of getting the hell out of dodge before things inevitably went south, since you know, all-devouring monster from the beginning of time? Even if you were the commander of two-hundred legions of demons, cavorting with one of... their kind, was flirting with disaster.
Unfortunately, Paimon had never been the most cautious of demons, and a sick sort of glee welled up in him at the chance of being able to see one of these beasts up close. Of course, it probably wasn’t worth the risk it would pose to his life, but the words ‘sound judgement’ just didn’t exist in Paimon’s dictionary.
Sticking his hands in his pockets, he made his way round to the front of the building. The glowing sign was caked in a thick layer of powder snow, but it was a Taco Bell, alright. The purple and pink peeking through from under the frost was evidence enough, though the ‘50’s diner’ vibe it was giving off was a little weird. Quietly, he pushed opened the front door, stepping through the threshold. Paimon scanned the establishment for Dominique, and moved to join the younger demon at his booth as soon as he laid eyes on him.
“Did you see him?” Paimon questioned, not-so-subtly craning his head to look over his shoulder. He was almost bouncing with excitement. “The Leviathan?”
The next thing he knew, Paimon found himself standing in an alleyway, asphalt slippery with ice and melted snow. He liked to think it was good practice to give your destinations a wide berth. After all, you never know just who or what you might encounter. Now that he was closer, however, the demon was beginning to pick up quite the array of signatures. The souls of every creature were different, and apart from the humans and demons, which he’d expected -- there were a few others. One in particular caught his attention, it was something primordial. Something ancient.
At that very moment, Paimon realised exactly just what this being was. How could he have been so blind? In all his years on earth, only one kind of creature gave off such an aura of hunger and agelessness -- Leviathan. What were they doing at a Taco Bell? Paimon had no idea, but he wasn’t about to stick around to find out. Part of him entertained the choice of getting the hell out of dodge before things inevitably went south, since you know, all-devouring monster from the beginning of time? Even if you were the commander of two-hundred legions of demons, cavorting with one of... their kind, was flirting with disaster.
Unfortunately, Paimon had never been the most cautious of demons, and a sick sort of glee welled up in him at the chance of being able to see one of these beasts up close. Of course, it probably wasn’t worth the risk it would pose to his life, but the words ‘sound judgement’ just didn’t exist in Paimon’s dictionary.
Sticking his hands in his pockets, he made his way round to the front of the building. The glowing sign was caked in a thick layer of powder snow, but it was a Taco Bell, alright. The purple and pink peeking through from under the frost was evidence enough, though the ‘50’s diner’ vibe it was giving off was a little weird. Quietly, he pushed opened the front door, stepping through the threshold. Paimon scanned the establishment for Dominique, and moved to join the younger demon at his booth as soon as he laid eyes on him.
“Did you see him?” Paimon questioned, not-so-subtly craning his head to look over his shoulder. He was almost bouncing with excitement. “The Leviathan?”
@Tokki Totally. This is gonna go just swimmingly for everyone, I'm sure. :P
When Paimon first felt the tug of a summoning, he already guessed what was about to come: another amateur warlock and/or witch, attempting to wheedle him into a contract. The more experienced ones have already learnt that he’d much rather pulverise their spines than agree to a deal. So Paimon gave in to the pull, knowing he couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to, and he was in the mood for blood.
So when he landed, he, admittedly, had been expecting the devil’s trap waiting for him. He hadn’t, though, been expecting a bucketful of holy water to the face. A searing pain instantly bloomed throughout Paimon’s skin and flesh as the holy water soaked through his clothes, but he only let out a muted hiss. He was, after all, no stranger to this process. People would summon him, entrap him in a circle of runes, splash holy water on him, or maybe if it's a fun night, carve Enochian sigils into every inch of his flesh in an attempt to torture him into submission. Unfortunately for them, however, it almost never worked. Paimon had been walking the earth since god knows when, so really, it was a piss-poor idea to fuck with him. Not that it got them down, though -- they just kept on trying. Paimon wasn't sure why, but whatever floats their boat, right?
Shaking off the remainder of the holy water, Paimon looked down at himself, the burns were already starting to heal. He snapped his head back up to look at the warlock that summoned him right in the eyes, Paimon’s own flashing from pale blue to a bottomless pool of black. The warlock flinched, although the demon could tell he was trying to hide it. The least he could do was give him an ‘A’ for effort. "So, what can I do you for, O' Great and Powerful wizard?" Paimon drawled mockingly, his entire frame assuming that characteristic, sardonic tilt.
Not that Paimon’s current form was all that intimidating. In fact, it was quite the opposite. ‘Isaiah Corcoran’ was short and cute, with a toothy grin and the kind of boyish charm that livened up the clothes he bought for him with stolen money. Paimon made his name up, because he doesn’t care what his real name was, and neither does he.
It had been two years ago when Paimon found him in a hospital, catatonic and comatose. They have an agreement of sorts, the demon uses his empty body, and in return, he does not waste away in a hospital bed. ...Not that he’d signed any official papers, it’s been years and the demon has yet to find any traces of thoughts in that pretty skull of his. The boy was gone, so Paimon sincerely doubted that he’d mind if he helped himself to his leftovers.
“Please tell me you’re gonna sacrifice a chicken. I’ve always found that part so quaint.” Paimon’s voice lilted with amusement, and a sharp bark of laughter escaped from him when the warlock only scowled and turned away to prepare another batch of holy water.
Inky, black eyes scanned the devil’s trap for any runes that were missing or out of place, before finally, he spotted something. A blank piece of flooring where an intricate symbol should’ve been. Paimon could barely contain himself, at that. Had humans always been this incompetent? It took every last ounce of willpower he had to not dart over and snap the warlock’s neck. No, he had to make this last, to make an example out of him. Sure, he had better things to do, but Paimon had never been one to turn down such a rare opportunity.
Whilst the warlock’s back was turned, he stepped out of the faulty trap, apparated behind him, and waited for his victim to turn back around. A look of pure horror (which Paimon found absolutely delightful) crossed the warlock’s face when as he realised what had transpired. Perhaps a hint of regret, as well? Regret at having gotten out of bed this morning, regret at having attempted to control a demon that was thousands of years old - etcetera, etcetera. It was all the same to Paimon, really, but that split second where the guy looked like he’d just pissed himself? Priceless. And as Paimon’s would-be victim would soon realise…
He was well and truly fucked.
By the time Paimon was finished, the warlock was hardly recognisable. Strips of skin hung from his torso and face, the exposed flesh already festering with the beginnings of gangrene. The concrete floor was stained brick red with blood, peppered with shards of bone, and a few yards away, were a set of clumsily amputated hands and feet. The demon didn’t have enough time to do a proper job with the skinning, but he supposed it would suffice. Most humans were squeamish enough that the mere sight of bloody, dribbling organs would cause an upchuck of their lunch, and possibly even a lifetime’s worth of nightmares.
Just as Paimon was about to leave, however, his cellphone rang. A useful invention, if he did say so himself. Now, he longer had to go through all the trouble of slitting a person’s throat, draining their blood into a chalice, just to contact his demonic brethren.
Sliding a finger across the screen, Paimon then held the phone up to his ear. ...Well, his meatsuit’s ear, if you want to get all technical about it, but that was besides the point.
“Hello?”
Paimon very quickly realised just who he was speaking to. After all, that nickname wasn’t something he heard very often. Not many individuals felt comfortable enough to assign him such a ridiculous, childish moniker.
“But Taco Bell’s fucking amazing. Have you seen the shit they come up with? The Cheesarito? Double-grilled quesadillas? Oh, and get this - Waffle. Tacos. Tell me that doesn’t sound incredible.” Paimon’s earnest was genuine, and he was sure no one would bother them there. Shitty fast-food chains were always filled to the brim with society’s worst, anyway. What difference would a demon or two make? “Come on, Dom. Don’t be an asshole, I think better with a full stomach.”
So when he landed, he, admittedly, had been expecting the devil’s trap waiting for him. He hadn’t, though, been expecting a bucketful of holy water to the face. A searing pain instantly bloomed throughout Paimon’s skin and flesh as the holy water soaked through his clothes, but he only let out a muted hiss. He was, after all, no stranger to this process. People would summon him, entrap him in a circle of runes, splash holy water on him, or maybe if it's a fun night, carve Enochian sigils into every inch of his flesh in an attempt to torture him into submission. Unfortunately for them, however, it almost never worked. Paimon had been walking the earth since god knows when, so really, it was a piss-poor idea to fuck with him. Not that it got them down, though -- they just kept on trying. Paimon wasn't sure why, but whatever floats their boat, right?
Shaking off the remainder of the holy water, Paimon looked down at himself, the burns were already starting to heal. He snapped his head back up to look at the warlock that summoned him right in the eyes, Paimon’s own flashing from pale blue to a bottomless pool of black. The warlock flinched, although the demon could tell he was trying to hide it. The least he could do was give him an ‘A’ for effort. "So, what can I do you for, O' Great and Powerful wizard?" Paimon drawled mockingly, his entire frame assuming that characteristic, sardonic tilt.
Not that Paimon’s current form was all that intimidating. In fact, it was quite the opposite. ‘Isaiah Corcoran’ was short and cute, with a toothy grin and the kind of boyish charm that livened up the clothes he bought for him with stolen money. Paimon made his name up, because he doesn’t care what his real name was, and neither does he.
It had been two years ago when Paimon found him in a hospital, catatonic and comatose. They have an agreement of sorts, the demon uses his empty body, and in return, he does not waste away in a hospital bed. ...Not that he’d signed any official papers, it’s been years and the demon has yet to find any traces of thoughts in that pretty skull of his. The boy was gone, so Paimon sincerely doubted that he’d mind if he helped himself to his leftovers.
“Please tell me you’re gonna sacrifice a chicken. I’ve always found that part so quaint.” Paimon’s voice lilted with amusement, and a sharp bark of laughter escaped from him when the warlock only scowled and turned away to prepare another batch of holy water.
Inky, black eyes scanned the devil’s trap for any runes that were missing or out of place, before finally, he spotted something. A blank piece of flooring where an intricate symbol should’ve been. Paimon could barely contain himself, at that. Had humans always been this incompetent? It took every last ounce of willpower he had to not dart over and snap the warlock’s neck. No, he had to make this last, to make an example out of him. Sure, he had better things to do, but Paimon had never been one to turn down such a rare opportunity.
Whilst the warlock’s back was turned, he stepped out of the faulty trap, apparated behind him, and waited for his victim to turn back around. A look of pure horror (which Paimon found absolutely delightful) crossed the warlock’s face when as he realised what had transpired. Perhaps a hint of regret, as well? Regret at having gotten out of bed this morning, regret at having attempted to control a demon that was thousands of years old - etcetera, etcetera. It was all the same to Paimon, really, but that split second where the guy looked like he’d just pissed himself? Priceless. And as Paimon’s would-be victim would soon realise…
He was well and truly fucked.
By the time Paimon was finished, the warlock was hardly recognisable. Strips of skin hung from his torso and face, the exposed flesh already festering with the beginnings of gangrene. The concrete floor was stained brick red with blood, peppered with shards of bone, and a few yards away, were a set of clumsily amputated hands and feet. The demon didn’t have enough time to do a proper job with the skinning, but he supposed it would suffice. Most humans were squeamish enough that the mere sight of bloody, dribbling organs would cause an upchuck of their lunch, and possibly even a lifetime’s worth of nightmares.
Just as Paimon was about to leave, however, his cellphone rang. A useful invention, if he did say so himself. Now, he longer had to go through all the trouble of slitting a person’s throat, draining their blood into a chalice, just to contact his demonic brethren.
Sliding a finger across the screen, Paimon then held the phone up to his ear. ...Well, his meatsuit’s ear, if you want to get all technical about it, but that was besides the point.
“Hello?”
Paimon very quickly realised just who he was speaking to. After all, that nickname wasn’t something he heard very often. Not many individuals felt comfortable enough to assign him such a ridiculous, childish moniker.
“But Taco Bell’s fucking amazing. Have you seen the shit they come up with? The Cheesarito? Double-grilled quesadillas? Oh, and get this - Waffle. Tacos. Tell me that doesn’t sound incredible.” Paimon’s earnest was genuine, and he was sure no one would bother them there. Shitty fast-food chains were always filled to the brim with society’s worst, anyway. What difference would a demon or two make? “Come on, Dom. Don’t be an asshole, I think better with a full stomach.”
God forbid the day all of us collide haha
Also, @Phloem, I hope you don't mind but I set it up so that Dom had already known Paimon for quite some time and now they're best buds. /ahem/
Sounds fine to me. Working on my post now. C:
Good morning folks! Just finished reading through everything IC and OOC. Now would any of the demons like to meet up and mingle before going off for the prophet hunt? :))
I'm game. :D
Will be off soon to celebrate my friend's birthday, though. So I'll probably only be able to post in a couple of hours.
PAIMON
AGE UNKNOWN | BLACK-EYED DEMON
“You can only die once, but I promise to make it funny.”
BASICS
NICKNAME OR ALIAS: Isaiah Corcoran (he appreciates the irony.)
HEIGHT: 5’8”
BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, gangling build, sort of a marathon runner's physique.
GENDER: Male
PERSONALITY: The first thing most people see when meeting Paimon is his spirit. He’s always been an energetic one, full of life and personality, almost to a fault. The demon is, by nature, extremely impulsive, both in the things he does and the things he says -- something all those years spent in Hell doesn’t seem to have dampened. As far as he was concerned, at least as a human, life was too short to sit around let shit just happen, it’s all about the now, and how you handle the people and things that surround you. If he likes something, chances are he’ll let you know it, and if he doesn’t, well he’s never been shy about voicing his opinion in that matter as well. Going from terrifying ancient entity to little shit in about two seconds flat is a specialty of his. Sadistic. Sarcastic. Snarky. Rude. The spoilt, venomous one with bite and the attitude to go along with it. But if you think that sparkling smile is genuine, you're wrong.
FRIENDS AND FAMILY
PARENTS: n/a
SIBLINGS: n/a
EXTENDED FAMILY: n/a
IMPORTANT OTHERS: n/a
HISTORY: One of the very first demons created by Lucifer, Paimon was corrupted shortly after Lilith. Due to his seniority amongst the denizens of Hell, and his unusual devotion to Lucifer, he could be said to be a principal power. Paimon is mostly associated with science, philosophy, and the higher arts. In exchange for a blood sacrifice, he will teach concepts, reveal hidden truth, or hasten the pursuit of knowledge. In the sphere of Hell, he is the one in charge of organising events and ceremonies.
EXTRA INFORMATION: Loves human junk food, especially Taco Bell. Wherever he is, Paimon always expects to be offered a bite to eat. If nothing is offered he’ll gladly make his own suggestions as to what people should feed him.
Beautiful character @Phloem! I love his quote. XD He and Abby will get along not so greatly, but that's okay. Abby hates everyone.
Sweet, Paimon's just gonna annoy the shit out of everyone. :D
"Arnold, you forgot the drinks last time. Don't fuck up or I will send you back to the 5th dimension of hell, got it?"
I love this.
My character for your perusal. Might be a little wonky since I typed this out on my phone. :x
I'd be interested, probably some sort of demon or leviathan for me.
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