[ The mass Communion which all Kenoma were able to tune into had been very informative. If not for the looser lips of his kindred Aions, there's no guarantee Makoto would have disclosed much if anything to J pertaining to the events which transpired after they parted ways in Venera. He'd not given an account of the details revolving around the stretches of time they'd been apart in times past, whatever other shades of unsavory (besides Kieran) that he'd come across during his tour of Hell's slums and, assuredly, places beyond where his nose had picked up traces of J's scent. And things haven't changed enough since his arrival to suddenly make Makoto more forthcoming- not with J, in any case.
Contrary to his ward's beliefs, J is and has always been respectful of choices made of his ward's own volition, such as his six-month excursion into his past or even those long years under Datenshou's employ. Provided those decisions don't interfere with his own plans. For now, Makoto's choice to remain sparse while others congregate in the plague's aftermath, coming together more closely after their traumatic excursion, is apparent but left momentarily uninterrupted by his master. The only exception is a letter on artisan parchment, with flecks of tiny pressed flower petals in muted pastel pinks and purples and rippled edges left untrimmed, that designate it as something handmade. The envelope it's nested within is neatly sealed with red wax atop two tails of gold ribbon that dangle below; its texture soft to the touch. ]
Makoto-dono,
I hear congratulations are in order on account of your most recent achievement. How does it feel to kill a man not by means of signed contracts and sated desires-
But with your own hand?
In lieu of immediately commemorating this event, allow me to send you a small token to make use of as you will. Consider it a temporary proxy, until at which time you find yourself in a more celebratory mood.
Sincerely Yours, J
[ Ever cautious when the situation calls for it, J doesn't draw attention to this exchange or risk its examination by permitting his retainer to submit the missive directly. Hypothetically speaking, if J were the Regent, he'd make sure those assigned to care for the Aions were actually spies planted to monitor their every move. Not unlike how Fjord and Datenshou quietly ferreted information to him about Makoto, making it as though J himself were there to keep an eye on his wellbeing and orchestrate whatever needed to be done to maintain it while he was out of his physical scope.
Assuming the worst, taking into account the ease at which history has shown letters can be opened, read, and re-sealed without raising suspicion, he personally delivers the item, leaving it in front of Makoto's door as he happens to stroll by.
Tucked within the envelope, causing its unusual weight, is a single ornate key set on a chain of the same metal; both solid gold and forged with impeccable workmanship. Curiously enough, the key itself is too small for normal locks. While the delicate chain, with links practically light and uncumbersome as a spiderweb's thread, is surprisingly durable. It appears to be both the chain of a necklace or worn at the wrist once the length is looped around and latched to itself. The reason behind such versatility is not yet apparent, when it's only half of the final product. ]
In Achamoth: A handwritten letter delivered to Makoto's door while he's self-isolating.
Contrary to his ward's beliefs, J is and has always been respectful of choices made of his ward's own volition, such as his six-month excursion into his past or even those long years under Datenshou's employ. Provided those decisions don't interfere with his own plans. For now, Makoto's choice to remain sparse while others congregate in the plague's aftermath, coming together more closely after their traumatic excursion, is apparent but left momentarily uninterrupted by his master. The only exception is a letter on artisan parchment, with flecks of tiny pressed flower petals in muted pastel pinks and purples and rippled edges left untrimmed, that designate it as something handmade. The envelope it's nested within is neatly sealed with red wax atop two tails of gold ribbon that dangle below; its texture soft to the touch. ]
Makoto-dono,
I hear congratulations are in order on account of your most recent achievement.
How does it feel to kill a man not by means of signed contracts and sated desires-
But with your own hand?
In lieu of immediately commemorating this event, allow me to send you a small token to make use of as you will.
Consider it a temporary proxy, until at which time you find yourself in a more celebratory mood.
Sincerely Yours,
J
[ Ever cautious when the situation calls for it, J doesn't draw attention to this exchange or risk its examination by permitting his retainer to submit the missive directly. Hypothetically speaking, if J were the Regent, he'd make sure those assigned to care for the Aions were actually spies planted to monitor their every move. Not unlike how Fjord and Datenshou quietly ferreted information to him about Makoto, making it as though J himself were there to keep an eye on his wellbeing and orchestrate whatever needed to be done to maintain it while he was out of his physical scope.
Assuming the worst, taking into account the ease at which history has shown letters can be opened, read, and re-sealed without raising suspicion, he personally delivers the item, leaving it in front of Makoto's door as he happens to stroll by.
Tucked within the envelope, causing its unusual weight, is a single ornate key set on a chain of the same metal; both solid gold and forged with impeccable workmanship. Curiously enough, the key itself is too small for normal locks. While the delicate chain, with links practically light and uncumbersome as a spiderweb's thread, is surprisingly durable. It appears to be both the chain of a necklace or worn at the wrist once the length is looped around and latched to itself. The reason behind such versatility is not yet apparent, when it's only half of the final product. ]