( makoto had been a student in high school when he had decided to die. or, rather, he had been a student in high school when he had decided that there was no future for him in the life that he had on earth: he would rather summon a demon and sell his soul for a taste of what he had been illicitly craving for years, and then he would be erased, as of yet untarnished by what his desires might one day compel him to do. but... that isn't exactly the entire story. at the time, makoto had also lived in his father's house, and it had been the house of a man who made no secret about how much he despised his son. a morose and macabre child, a disappointment to him both in personality and academic ambition, he had been practical disposable after their elder child had already gone on to accomplish everything they could've ever wanted: makoto's father had wanted to kill him even before he'd summoned J. even before he'd been killed as a mortal and taken into hell. even before, after thirty years of stewing in his hatred, he summoned J in exactly the same way his son had and formed a contract with him to allow him to kill his dead son with his own two hands.
it hadn't been his intention for his death to be the ruin of his family, and yet he'd had that reality forced into him along with the knife that his father had plunged directly into his immortal heart. it was nothing new for makoto to disappoint those around him — just by the nature of being who he is, he's been a walking damnation to those around him since he was old enough to realize it. so he steels himself to abel's reaction, his jaw setting with resignation as he takes in the slump of his shoulders, the bowing of his head, the aversion of his gaze. he tells himself it doesn't mean anything. it had been the other man's mistake for expecting otherwise of a demon. how could he feel wounded for disappointing someone when it had been bound to happen eventually?
regardless of how much he walls off his heart, a change steals across his expression as abel continues. it starts a a twitch in the corner of one eye, then with a seam that forms between his brow and then spreads to crease his forehead. he... doesn't understand. he can't understand. concern, now? sympathy, now? he isn't aware of whatever relationship might exist between abel and estinien, but he has to assume that they are at the very least allies — he would look into the face of his ally's murderer and claim to fear for him, because his lack of remorse spoke more to what might end up befalling him rather than what he's already done or might do in the future...?
in hell, it would be considered a grievous mistake in demonic politicking to express open "confusion." when the perception of control is what literally gives one power, confusion is weakness. makoto makes that grievous mistake now. makoto shows his weakness now.
he doesn't give breath to it. not immediately, anyway. consternation smooths over into dull irritation. )
If that's the case, I'd tossed myself into that fire long before being brought here.
( his tone almost dares to say... so what? can't he see that that's the whole point? makoto doesn't see past the pinnacle of his dreadful quest for revenge. perhaps at one time he had been enchanted by the idea of learning to live as a demon, of managing to find a life that he could be content and happy with, living in the mansion of a kind demon amidst the idyllic rolling hills of hell. but it hadn't even been a month before that had been shattered, and with it any hope of a meaningful "future." what sort of future could be promised to a creature like him? even if he did leave a wake of collateral damage behind him in his climb to reach J — isn't it still the kinder outcome for himself and everyone else around him if he were to disappear after it was accomplished? )
cw mention of suicidal ideation
it hadn't been his intention for his death to be the ruin of his family, and yet he'd had that reality forced into him along with the knife that his father had plunged directly into his immortal heart. it was nothing new for makoto to disappoint those around him — just by the nature of being who he is, he's been a walking damnation to those around him since he was old enough to realize it. so he steels himself to abel's reaction, his jaw setting with resignation as he takes in the slump of his shoulders, the bowing of his head, the aversion of his gaze. he tells himself it doesn't mean anything. it had been the other man's mistake for expecting otherwise of a demon. how could he feel wounded for disappointing someone when it had been bound to happen eventually?
regardless of how much he walls off his heart, a change steals across his expression as abel continues. it starts a a twitch in the corner of one eye, then with a seam that forms between his brow and then spreads to crease his forehead. he... doesn't understand. he can't understand. concern, now? sympathy, now? he isn't aware of whatever relationship might exist between abel and estinien, but he has to assume that they are at the very least allies — he would look into the face of his ally's murderer and claim to fear for him, because his lack of remorse spoke more to what might end up befalling him rather than what he's already done or might do in the future...?
in hell, it would be considered a grievous mistake in demonic politicking to express open "confusion." when the perception of control is what literally gives one power, confusion is weakness. makoto makes that grievous mistake now. makoto shows his weakness now.
he doesn't give breath to it. not immediately, anyway. consternation smooths over into dull irritation. )
If that's the case, I'd tossed myself into that fire long before being brought here.
( his tone almost dares to say... so what? can't he see that that's the whole point? makoto doesn't see past the pinnacle of his dreadful quest for revenge. perhaps at one time he had been enchanted by the idea of learning to live as a demon, of managing to find a life that he could be content and happy with, living in the mansion of a kind demon amidst the idyllic rolling hills of hell. but it hadn't even been a month before that had been shattered, and with it any hope of a meaningful "future." what sort of future could be promised to a creature like him? even if he did leave a wake of collateral damage behind him in his climb to reach J — isn't it still the kinder outcome for himself and everyone else around him if he were to disappear after it was accomplished? )