( consequences have always been a theme throughout his life, a through-line that if one grasped at the string at and tugged, they would find all twenty or so years of it spill out of their skein, painting a rather woeful picture upon the floor. fascinations that had come naturally to him as a child had been met with harsh criticism and consequence by his parents, and even after J had brought him into hell, whenever he had stepped an inch out of line and off of the narrow path he had seemingly set for him, he often faced a brutal course correction. though often impudent and impetuous, makoto does learn his lessons, or at the very least after a time. the only way to avoid consequences altogether is to make yourself powerful enough that no one could impose them upon you. this is, unfortunately, an impossibility for him (facing either harsh retaliation from the Pleroma or restitution from the Regent for his failure), so he just has to do his best with what he has.
and he already has roughly three contingencies in place for if (when) the worst does come to pass.
as he traces a fingertip along the edge of of his glass, he thinks bitterly that abel had much better applications for his overdeveloped sense of sympathy than the would-be killer of one of his allies. even with all that he's done and all that he's said, he still hasn't managed to alienate the priest. it's irritating. he finds himself wishing that he could — it would be easier that way, and he wouldn't have to feel that vague shearing sensation of internal conflict (something that he had tried to leave behind with his humanity years ago). that he must face both J being proud of him and despairing for him for something he couldn't even follow through on... it sours the alcohol in his stomach, slowly dispersing through to his veins.
he tilts his head. he's been humoring abel through many of these questions — what's another?
his eyes slowly narrow to bloody slits, pale irises like lodged shards of ice. he slumps back further against his chair, sighing audibly, seemingly at the intersection between irritated and disappointed. what, is he going to try to paint this instance as an example, to try to convince him at this juncture that there was no point in pursuing his primary or any other tack of revenge? he's already told him he doesn't have anything else. as much as abel might want to imagine a "good ending" for him, it's just a fantasy; it simply doesn't exist. what would that be for a creature like him? to go back to earth, with the substance of his being so irrevocably changed, with constant reminders that he had seemingly been made as a piece who did not fit into its machine? to hell, where the only way to climb its hierarchies to power and comfort was to use, abuse, lie, manipulate, possess, and destroy? ah, abel. can you admit you've met your match? with all of his sharp, mercenary edges, there's no clean or healthy place he fits in anywhere. even if the thrill of revenge is fleeting and would inevitably turn to ash in his mouth and lead in his heart, it doesn't matter; it's still the greatest thing he could imagine on any path ahead for him.
he at the very least respects abel enough to compose a thoughtful response, rather than responding with the first jagged words that lodged in his throat. still... that doesn't make them kind.)
That's a rather uncharitable question, Abel. How do I feel now? After having been nearly incinerated by your companion, assaulted by an inexplicable entity, and fallen under the Regent's scrutiny because of all of it? You asking me how I feel about what I did now, after all that's happened since, is like trying to ask me to separate water out of blood.
( he squeezes his eyes closed, takes a deep breath, and exhales. then they open once more, and he continues. )
You're not asking me the right question. It doesn't matter how I feel about it now. How I felt about it then, though... No. It wasn't necessarily justified. ( does he really need to feel that way to do something atrocious to another person? he had torn datenshou's life down brick by brick, and the man had never been anything but considerate to him — the only "justification" makoto had had then was contempt. ) It was vindicated. And yes, for the time, it did taste sweet.
( before he was so rudely interrupted... )
As for the state of him... ( makoto throws his head back, clearly aggravated by this particular line of inquiry. ) I lived as a former human in a realm full of monsters by learning that you take advantage of any opportunity given to you. Would you expect pity to stay my hand? The only true pity was that I had less time to prove my point before taking his life.
☺️
and he already has roughly three contingencies in place for if (when) the worst does come to pass.
as he traces a fingertip along the edge of of his glass, he thinks bitterly that abel had much better applications for his overdeveloped sense of sympathy than the would-be killer of one of his allies. even with all that he's done and all that he's said, he still hasn't managed to alienate the priest. it's irritating. he finds himself wishing that he could — it would be easier that way, and he wouldn't have to feel that vague shearing sensation of internal conflict (something that he had tried to leave behind with his humanity years ago). that he must face both J being proud of him and despairing for him for something he couldn't even follow through on... it sours the alcohol in his stomach, slowly dispersing through to his veins.
he tilts his head. he's been humoring abel through many of these questions — what's another?
his eyes slowly narrow to bloody slits, pale irises like lodged shards of ice. he slumps back further against his chair, sighing audibly, seemingly at the intersection between irritated and disappointed. what, is he going to try to paint this instance as an example, to try to convince him at this juncture that there was no point in pursuing his primary or any other tack of revenge? he's already told him he doesn't have anything else. as much as abel might want to imagine a "good ending" for him, it's just a fantasy; it simply doesn't exist. what would that be for a creature like him? to go back to earth, with the substance of his being so irrevocably changed, with constant reminders that he had seemingly been made as a piece who did not fit into its machine? to hell, where the only way to climb its hierarchies to power and comfort was to use, abuse, lie, manipulate, possess, and destroy? ah, abel. can you admit you've met your match? with all of his sharp, mercenary edges, there's no clean or healthy place he fits in anywhere. even if the thrill of revenge is fleeting and would inevitably turn to ash in his mouth and lead in his heart, it doesn't matter; it's still the greatest thing he could imagine on any path ahead for him.
he at the very least respects abel enough to compose a thoughtful response, rather than responding with the first jagged words that lodged in his throat. still... that doesn't make them kind. )
That's a rather uncharitable question, Abel. How do I feel now? After having been nearly incinerated by your companion, assaulted by an inexplicable entity, and fallen under the Regent's scrutiny because of all of it? You asking me how I feel about what I did now, after all that's happened since, is like trying to ask me to separate water out of blood.
( he squeezes his eyes closed, takes a deep breath, and exhales. then they open once more, and he continues. )
You're not asking me the right question. It doesn't matter how I feel about it now. How I felt about it then, though... No. It wasn't necessarily justified. ( does he really need to feel that way to do something atrocious to another person? he had torn datenshou's life down brick by brick, and the man had never been anything but considerate to him — the only "justification" makoto had had then was contempt. ) It was vindicated. And yes, for the time, it did taste sweet.
( before he was so rudely interrupted... )
As for the state of him... ( makoto throws his head back, clearly aggravated by this particular line of inquiry. ) I lived as a former human in a realm full of monsters by learning that you take advantage of any opportunity given to you. Would you expect pity to stay my hand? The only true pity was that I had less time to prove my point before taking his life.