( he likely does, which is ironic, considering they had most often had the breadth of horos separating them, serving different causes as they had been. though the specifics of the months he had spent there were blotted out to the point that no details resonated as accurate with any certainty, makoto still gets broad-stroke impressions. he almost feels foolish in doing so, but he allows them to guide him even though they are at best like signs left by a wanderer who had long ago traveled the path he does now — he can't read the words etched upon them, so he just has to divine the meaning from their placement and perceived severity.
the feeling of something foreign — be it an energy like Zenith or a force like the kenoma had been — invading his soul to magnify certain aspects of his self or his memories while dulling others is still enough to make him automatically defensive in this way.
dextera's straight-forward earnestness is something so characteristic of him — he feels he had known this before, but he has learned it all over again in these last few weeks living together. it endears him to makoto, though it's only a shame that his is not the kind of soil that might be receptive to such entreaties. as it is, an almost dreamlike smile spreads across the demon's face; he reaches forward, his right hand brushing for just a moment across his cheek before holding the side of his head, warm and familiar.
unfortunately, his words do not match the kindness of his gesture. they pretend, at first, ) Dear Dextera, ( he half-purrs, head tilting ever-so-slightly to one side, ) but I know that what we are to one another would not be destroyed, if that weren't the case.
(so it's not a factor I consider, is the tacit implication. he does not intend to be cruel to dextera, regardless of whether or not he reads it that way. makoto has always been maverick, violent in defending even the tiniest scraps of agency that remain to him. he would not allow something so simple as kinship to divert his course... and perhaps that is his crucial hubris. perhaps he takes dextera and his support for granted, and perhaps he will come to regret that one day.
for now, he doesn't. his hand falls, and he continues, ) It does feel like we've lost the game before it's even begun, doesn't it? ( he thoughtfully rakes a hand through his hair, hopeless in tangles even despite his efforts, ) If we do all conform to the Oracle's trial... do you see a future for this conflict? How far into the horizon do you look — do you at all?
no subject
the feeling of something foreign — be it an energy like Zenith or a force like the kenoma had been — invading his soul to magnify certain aspects of his self or his memories while dulling others is still enough to make him automatically defensive in this way.
dextera's straight-forward earnestness is something so characteristic of him — he feels he had known this before, but he has learned it all over again in these last few weeks living together. it endears him to makoto, though it's only a shame that his is not the kind of soil that might be receptive to such entreaties. as it is, an almost dreamlike smile spreads across the demon's face; he reaches forward, his right hand brushing for just a moment across his cheek before holding the side of his head, warm and familiar.
unfortunately, his words do not match the kindness of his gesture. they pretend, at first, ) Dear Dextera, ( he half-purrs, head tilting ever-so-slightly to one side, ) but I know that what we are to one another would not be destroyed, if that weren't the case.
( so it's not a factor I consider, is the tacit implication. he does not intend to be cruel to dextera, regardless of whether or not he reads it that way. makoto has always been maverick, violent in defending even the tiniest scraps of agency that remain to him. he would not allow something so simple as kinship to divert his course... and perhaps that is his crucial hubris. perhaps he takes dextera and his support for granted, and perhaps he will come to regret that one day.
for now, he doesn't. his hand falls, and he continues, ) It does feel like we've lost the game before it's even begun, doesn't it? ( he thoughtfully rakes a hand through his hair, hopeless in tangles even despite his efforts, ) If we do all conform to the Oracle's trial... do you see a future for this conflict? How far into the horizon do you look — do you at all?