( it's the concern that makes him feel defensive and ready to lash out, like an animal backed into a corner. having only ever received it in limited doses from demons whose sense of "concern" were comparatively warped by their lack of human morality, he can't understand it when it comes from abel or anyone else like him. where is its origin? what is its source? hasn't he given him every reason to give up on it, to smother that traitorous fledgling of an emotion in its crib? even now he tries to frighten him off, to give him safe and logical "outs" to stop caring.
it's easier that way. makoto doesn't know what to do with someone caring about him; not unless their version of it entailed scarring his heart to the fullest extent that he could stand and then saying he's better for what it had taught him.
"to me" is the first verbal stab that finds its way underneath his guard, causing the faintest twinge of a reaction in his expression; a minute twitch at the corner of his eye. it blots out all of the grander arguments that could be had philosophically about what had happened and narrows the focus, limiting it to just the two sitting at this table. that's so much harder to discard out of hand for makoto; he can pontificate about the greater picture, but being asked to explain himself for the sole benefit of one other person, one who already knew more about him than nearly everyone else on horos...
he's silent and contemplative in the wake of abel's justification, his gaze just for a moment casting itself away from his companion's face. but then it returns, seemingly having steeled itself and the mind behind it; he leans a bit closer, continuing in a voice both low and confidential and yet seething with a rawness that still seems to ooze blood: ) A month prior in the Shrine of the Sovereign, he skewered me on the end of his spear, ( he unlaces his fingers and places two of his right hand against his chest, right beneath his ribcage, ) and left me to die there. Apparently, I was so little of a threat to him that I didn't even warrant the dignity of being finished off. Instead, I cursed and writhed and bled and just barely managed to stitch myself back together before returning back to Achamoth — had I not been so fortunate and lost consciousness, it likely would've been a corpse that arrived instead.
( both in the quiet rancor of makoto's voice and in the furious pits of his eyes abel can begin to catch a glimpse of the ocean of anger at the core of the demon's person, an endless cycle of hurt and humiliation and indignation and defiance that keeps him in perpetual motion, regardless of what cost it might have. )
"Why," you ask? Because it was a debt of blood that I was owed, and because I wanted to show him how wrong he was to think that I wasn't even worth the time to dispatch himself. I killed him because I wanted to, Abel, and even after everything that happened, I don't regret it.
( the pain and the brush with death certainly would have given makoto an immense amount of ire to the man, certainly enough to want the same outcome, but it was the dismissal that fanned the flame to a new and personal intensity. his susceptibility to wounds to his so-called "pride" has always been his weakness, and one exploited both by the Regent and J himself. for estinien... the fates had merely conspired to make it play out against his favor. )
no subject
it's easier that way. makoto doesn't know what to do with someone caring about him; not unless their version of it entailed scarring his heart to the fullest extent that he could stand and then saying he's better for what it had taught him.
"to me" is the first verbal stab that finds its way underneath his guard, causing the faintest twinge of a reaction in his expression; a minute twitch at the corner of his eye. it blots out all of the grander arguments that could be had philosophically about what had happened and narrows the focus, limiting it to just the two sitting at this table. that's so much harder to discard out of hand for makoto; he can pontificate about the greater picture, but being asked to explain himself for the sole benefit of one other person, one who already knew more about him than nearly everyone else on horos...
he's silent and contemplative in the wake of abel's justification, his gaze just for a moment casting itself away from his companion's face. but then it returns, seemingly having steeled itself and the mind behind it; he leans a bit closer, continuing in a voice both low and confidential and yet seething with a rawness that still seems to ooze blood: ) A month prior in the Shrine of the Sovereign, he skewered me on the end of his spear, ( he unlaces his fingers and places two of his right hand against his chest, right beneath his ribcage, ) and left me to die there. Apparently, I was so little of a threat to him that I didn't even warrant the dignity of being finished off. Instead, I cursed and writhed and bled and just barely managed to stitch myself back together before returning back to Achamoth — had I not been so fortunate and lost consciousness, it likely would've been a corpse that arrived instead.
( both in the quiet rancor of makoto's voice and in the furious pits of his eyes abel can begin to catch a glimpse of the ocean of anger at the core of the demon's person, an endless cycle of hurt and humiliation and indignation and defiance that keeps him in perpetual motion, regardless of what cost it might have. )
"Why," you ask? Because it was a debt of blood that I was owed, and because I wanted to show him how wrong he was to think that I wasn't even worth the time to dispatch himself. I killed him because I wanted to, Abel, and even after everything that happened, I don't regret it.
( the pain and the brush with death certainly would have given makoto an immense amount of ire to the man, certainly enough to want the same outcome, but it was the dismissal that fanned the flame to a new and personal intensity. his susceptibility to wounds to his so-called "pride" has always been his weakness, and one exploited both by the Regent and J himself. for estinien... the fates had merely conspired to make it play out against his favor. )