( when dextera's message arrives, makoto doesn't reply. this is because he had been in venera the day before, and after having been plucked from the clutches of the Innocent entity by the Regent themself, he'd spent a few tidy hours suffering a torrent of concentrated anguish, despair, and futility being tossed back out onto the floor of the Regent's audience chamber. though the whole experience has done much to inflame and focus his feeling of purpose, he was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally from the ordeal of fighting estinien, then the Innocent, and then enduring all that, so... he'd only just managed to haul himself to his quarters and stay conscious through cleaning up and sewing shut all of his wounds before passing out for roughly twenty-four hours straight.
so it's late on the 25th of soviseri when he wakes up and sees that dextera has contacted him. that realization comes with a twined feeling of anticipation and worry. had something happened to him, or was he just checking in on him?
what he witnesses when he accesses the message is quite outside what he had expected. his rapt and wide-eyed fascination sharpen into something intent and craving at the images of actual violence, portrayed through Communion with the phantom voyeurism of the perspective from dextera's eyes, tinged on all sides by the presence of his feelings, of his own personal fixation. besides the shriveled animal one that dextera had given him all those months ago, makoto has never eaten a heart — when contracted to J, he had ripped him in half and started with the lower one, and from there he had never gotten so far as his entrails — but he does understand the appeal. it's been a thought that's crowded into his mind dozens of times. tearing past the flesh and cracking open the ribcage to expose what lie within, holding the demon's still-beating heart in his own hand so he could feel that he owned it and controlled it both literally and figuratively. so his attention lingers on that still-beating heart just the same as dextera's does; when the images fade and words replace them, makoto's formerly still waters have been thoroughly agitated, stirring up so much sediment that had settled to the bottom that they were now opaque and turbulent.
there are logical qualms. he's still very much on the mend from the injuries he received, and they're still standing in the threshold of conflict between their two spiritual sects.
but how the hell is he supposed to say no to all of this?
his first response is actually a laugh, a sound as breathless and wry as his response. ) And here I've been thinking on how I might repay you for what you brought me in the caverns... You beat me to it.
( in his quarters, still holding his shard, he sits up in bed. some of the pain might filter through their connection — deep lacerations encircle his torso like an embrace, even if they are neatly sewn shut — but it doesn't stop him from moving. )
cw gore, vore mention
so it's late on the 25th of soviseri when he wakes up and sees that dextera has contacted him. that realization comes with a twined feeling of anticipation and worry. had something happened to him, or was he just checking in on him?
what he witnesses when he accesses the message is quite outside what he had expected. his rapt and wide-eyed fascination sharpen into something intent and craving at the images of actual violence, portrayed through Communion with the phantom voyeurism of the perspective from dextera's eyes, tinged on all sides by the presence of his feelings, of his own personal fixation. besides the shriveled animal one that dextera had given him all those months ago, makoto has never eaten a heart — when contracted to J, he had ripped him in half and started with the lower one, and from there he had never gotten so far as his entrails — but he does understand the appeal. it's been a thought that's crowded into his mind dozens of times. tearing past the flesh and cracking open the ribcage to expose what lie within, holding the demon's still-beating heart in his own hand so he could feel that he owned it and controlled it both literally and figuratively. so his attention lingers on that still-beating heart just the same as dextera's does; when the images fade and words replace them, makoto's formerly still waters have been thoroughly agitated, stirring up so much sediment that had settled to the bottom that they were now opaque and turbulent.
there are logical qualms. he's still very much on the mend from the injuries he received, and they're still standing in the threshold of conflict between their two spiritual sects.
but how the hell is he supposed to say no to all of this?
his first response is actually a laugh, a sound as breathless and wry as his response. ) And here I've been thinking on how I might repay you for what you brought me in the caverns... You beat me to it.
( in his quarters, still holding his shard, he sits up in bed. some of the pain might filter through their connection — deep lacerations encircle his torso like an embrace, even if they are neatly sewn shut — but it doesn't stop him from moving. )
For such an offer, how could I not make time?