[ the abrupt and sudden chill steeping into Makoto's gaze is met with unflappable neutrality. it doesn't touch upon indifference, but perhaps it comes close. for a man who is so thoroughly moved by the feelings of others, this lack of response to the palpably violent surge that springs forward from his company is... strange, perhaps.
but Abel's expression truly offers little about his thoughts, his position on Makoto's reply nor the effectiveness of the priest's statement. instead, Abel merely extends a brief bob of his head in assent, acknowledgement. he is a patient creature; he has said his piece and he has heard Makoto's in turn. whatever seeds this conversation had planted are more than enough for now.
in the end, the only thing Abel has to give is the slight, subtle, easy-to-miss creep of grief underlying the guarded veil. he is... admittedly-- sad. yes; he is sad - because he understands precisely what lies beyond this knee-jerk reaction of the demon's. the bitter sting of a wounded pride, the involuntary screeching cry of indignation, of perceived insult is clear as day in those inhuman eyes. Abel had not come here to hurt M, but... ]
Whatever you take from this table... nothing has changed for me. I will still fight for you.
[ that is his promise... and, perhaps, these are the first words spoken with any genuine steel in his voice - as quiet as they may be. ]
no subject
but Abel's expression truly offers little about his thoughts, his position on Makoto's reply nor the effectiveness of the priest's statement. instead, Abel merely extends a brief bob of his head in assent, acknowledgement. he is a patient creature; he has said his piece and he has heard Makoto's in turn. whatever seeds this conversation had planted are more than enough for now.
in the end, the only thing Abel has to give is the slight, subtle, easy-to-miss creep of grief underlying the guarded veil. he is... admittedly-- sad. yes; he is sad - because he understands precisely what lies beyond this knee-jerk reaction of the demon's. the bitter sting of a wounded pride, the involuntary screeching cry of indignation, of perceived insult is clear as day in those inhuman eyes. Abel had not come here to hurt M, but... ]
Whatever you take from this table... nothing has changed for me. I will still fight for you.
[ that is his promise... and, perhaps, these are the first words spoken with any genuine steel in his voice - as quiet as they may be. ]
Even against yourself.