Percillant

I stared up at the darkening sky as the waves gently washed my feet. My toes squished with wet sand between them and the wind quietly made itself known. A deep sigh escaped my companions lips. Falcon was sitting a few feet behind me. I heard a second sigh and this time I turned back to look at him. He was a disheveled mess. His pants were ripped into shorts, though I was pretty sure he did not do that intentionally. His shirt was bloodstained and his face had dirt and grime smeared across it. War, it does things to people.
"It doesn't have to be this way," I had not realized he was looking at me.
"What do you mean?" I raised an eyebrow, "She said-"
He cut me off, "she's percillant, it doesn't mean she is right."
 War, it does thing to people. There it was again, that thought that was not mine.
"What if someone hears you?" I glanced around quickly.
"What if someone does?" He shrugged and stood up.
"They could-"
"What?! What could they possibly do? Please tell me!" He waved his hands in front of himself.
War, it does things to people.
"STOP! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" I yelled suddenly.
Falcon looked taken aback, "I'm not in your head."
I was seriously losing it. War, it does things to people. Not again.
"War, it does thing to people," that time it sounded like someone said it out loud. It was too high to be Falcon's voice. I looked around desperately.
"War, it does things to people."
Shut up.
"I didn't say anything."
Oh! I said that out loud.
"War-"
"SHUT UP!" I put my hands over my ears and dropped to my knees, "SHUT UP! Shut up!"
Silence.
I felt two hands on my shoulders and looked up. Falcon was kneeling in front of me, peering at my face.
I stared him straight in the eye and said, "War, it does things to people."

A/N: This piece was written yesterday during Cafe Chi (my writing club). The prompt: write a short story with your own made up word. My word was percillant, hence the title. See if you can guess what my word means.