( makoto surprises himself with his self-restraint — with a clever enough tongue he could likely convince J to surrender to him the occasional pound of flesh to satisfy his desires, and yet he doesn't. even before he'd arrived in horos he hadn't devoured any part of the man since he had demanded his tongue from him in return for the hard work that he had been doing working part-time at datenshou's brothel. this is, of course, on purpose. makoto has seen the slouch that demons fall into, their ambitious drive made dull by the mundanity of luxury. decadence is no whetstone to keep a person's mind, words, and actions sharp. in a way he has denied himself purposefully, manipulating his expectations so to motivate himself by the single great payout at the end of his quest for revenge. something about J is like a drug to him, and so if he ate his fill whenever he wanted, what would that revenge matter to him after a time? wouldn't he just become accustomed to what he had?
so, no. he keeps his attention focused on his ultimate goal. he tries. though it's no guarantee that he hasn't cheated on this, up until this point.
and he is obviously eager to do so again.
so the sensation of craving that dextera passes along is one that makoto understands, but the one that comes along with it, that feeling of shame and disgust... it's fortunate enough that it's all vague, but he still gets the sense where those feelings originate from. that, to him, is irritating. it reminds him of when he was human, warped with self-loathing and so much it often interfered with the contract he had signed — a sort of distracting noise to keep him from indulging in a single heart's desire he wanted fulfilled before the stain of his existence was wiped clean from the world.
for now, he doesn't say anything about it; he simply allows the connection to terminate. but perhaps he will, one day.
it is indeed several hours later when makoto approaches the spot that dextera had indicated. he comes from a direction roughly seventy degrees west of where the portal was situated, just in case, and he moves slowly, carefully, and stiffly, especially when it comes to any bend to his torso.
he pauses when he sees dextera, and his attention sharpens to an electric point as he notices the pulses of energy he sends through the bag. his hackles raise. he recognizes that energy, and it's not a pleasant memory. )
What are you doing to it? ( he can't help the thread of accusation that weaves through the words. he doesn't have the context for how long ago that murder was, and he hadn't gone so far as to consider how dextera might have kept the organs from spoiling. )
no subject
so, no. he keeps his attention focused on his ultimate goal. he tries. though it's no guarantee that he hasn't cheated on this, up until this point.
and he is obviously eager to do so again.
so the sensation of craving that dextera passes along is one that makoto understands, but the one that comes along with it, that feeling of shame and disgust... it's fortunate enough that it's all vague, but he still gets the sense where those feelings originate from. that, to him, is irritating. it reminds him of when he was human, warped with self-loathing and so much it often interfered with the contract he had signed — a sort of distracting noise to keep him from indulging in a single heart's desire he wanted fulfilled before the stain of his existence was wiped clean from the world.
for now, he doesn't say anything about it; he simply allows the connection to terminate. but perhaps he will, one day.
it is indeed several hours later when makoto approaches the spot that dextera had indicated. he comes from a direction roughly seventy degrees west of where the portal was situated, just in case, and he moves slowly, carefully, and stiffly, especially when it comes to any bend to his torso.
he pauses when he sees dextera, and his attention sharpens to an electric point as he notices the pulses of energy he sends through the bag. his hackles raise. he recognizes that energy, and it's not a pleasant memory. )
What are you doing to it? ( he can't help the thread of accusation that weaves through the words. he doesn't have the context for how long ago that murder was, and he hadn't gone so far as to consider how dextera might have kept the organs from spoiling. )