( there's nothing in their surroundings that gives makoto much pause. commiseration is often the first step of healing — to lick one's wounds and convalesce in both mind and body by banding together with survivors that shared the same experiences you did is exactly what he expected to find here. it would be far worse if the place was shuttered or near-empty, the inhabitants of the city so emotionally-scarred from what they went through that they didn't even want to open their hearts to the itch and burn that often came with healing. it's challenging to learn to live, but it's far more challenging to learn to live again, and again, and again — reforged and remade in the wake of each tragedy, finding which rules that were once taken for granted remain and which have fallen to the ground to tarnish and be forgotten.
or perhaps that's just from makoto's own experience.
it's difficult for him to care about these people. the most he can say he feels for them is a vague sense of gratitude for not causing any undue trouble to a couple of strangers in their midst; other than that, they're just another tangle of souls that will be swept into oblivion at the universe's inevitable end.
as abel voices the hypothetical, makoto's pale eyes slide over to fix him in their eerie gaze.
there's something dubious and unsatisfied in makoto's expression that seems to suggest he doesn't think they suffered nearly as much as abel seems to believe — not in comparison to what he had gone through, at least — but he keeps it to himself. ) No, that's not really the word I would use. It's "expected," is what it is. ( he leans back against the wooden booth, expression assuming an ennui that looks out-of-place given his youth but perhaps less so considering the depth in his eyes. ) Regardless of what they've suffered, they tend naturally toward the equilibrium of familiarity and routine. It's a survival mechanism.
( he cants his head to one side. ) I would hope we're not here to spy on first dates. ( his gaze rolls almost lazily toward the same couple that abel had spotted, whom makoto had already clocked when taking note of all of the patrons currently in the building. )
no subject
or perhaps that's just from makoto's own experience.
it's difficult for him to care about these people. the most he can say he feels for them is a vague sense of gratitude for not causing any undue trouble to a couple of strangers in their midst; other than that, they're just another tangle of souls that will be swept into oblivion at the universe's inevitable end.
as abel voices the hypothetical, makoto's pale eyes slide over to fix him in their eerie gaze.
there's something dubious and unsatisfied in makoto's expression that seems to suggest he doesn't think they suffered nearly as much as abel seems to believe — not in comparison to what he had gone through, at least — but he keeps it to himself. ) No, that's not really the word I would use. It's "expected," is what it is. ( he leans back against the wooden booth, expression assuming an ennui that looks out-of-place given his youth but perhaps less so considering the depth in his eyes. ) Regardless of what they've suffered, they tend naturally toward the equilibrium of familiarity and routine. It's a survival mechanism.
( he cants his head to one side. ) I would hope we're not here to spy on first dates. ( his gaze rolls almost lazily toward the same couple that abel had spotted, whom makoto had already clocked when taking note of all of the patrons currently in the building. )