( makoto had asked, and so he opens himself up to the dangers of knowing.
but he did so knowingly. with all the time they have spent together here in kenos, and not to mention vague recollections of their experiences in horos, he has never ventured so far as to ask dextera much of his world, his history, or his reason for deciding to attune or Harmonize as he does. theirs is a kinship that is at its strongest when it is at is simplest and unadorned — the more of these elements that are contextually arranged around who and what they are as individuals, the more murky the waters get. even ask he asks, makoto knows he will likely regret it. he has, after all, started to remember with the startling clarity of a splinter driven into the substance of his memory his ever-brief encounter with the archangel before — of the fury that had gripped him at the judgment he cast on dextera, how he had tried to tear the feathers of those false wings asunder with his hands and talons...
he reacts with an instinctual twinge at dextera's reply. he begins to turn as if to look at him, but he stops himself, steeling himself in to listen before he spoke or acted rashly. he... he is trying to understand, to not overpower and overwhelm dextera's words, experiences, and beliefs with his own.
ah, but it's so difficult.
dextera is one of precious few individuals he would feel a twist of sympathy for, but he does now, in sensing the odd distortion and "warbling" in his words as he forces out something he intrinsically doesn't want to disclose; makoto almost breaks, he almost tells dextera to forget about the whole thing, but — "but I'll tell you." at this, he does turn to face his friend, his odd and metallic eyes unblinking and devoid of pretense as he stares at him. he feels the weight and privilege of being granted this information, as unbelievable and terrible as it is. perhaps there were other Shard-Bearers that would judge dextera for this, who would indeed not be able to look at him or treat him the same.
but makoto is not one of them. ) Was it really a sin? ( he leans back over dextera, one hand bracing his weight on the other side of the young man's torso as he does so. even as his dark hair falls around his face, casting it into shadow, his colorless eyes seem luminous in the low light. ) What was your world to you, or you to it? What all did it ever do to deserve your efforts to set it to right?
( one would have to try to understand. this is makoto who, when formerly a young man and still human, had felt utterly misplaced and wrong in the fabric of the world he was born into, who had died and gone to Hell to find a place that would accept him. in horos, he had been prepared to sink every known or conceivable world into annihilation before he joined them, just to punish them for all those years he had felt so horrendously rejected and for all that he had suffered since.
a world and its people never have inherent or intrinsic value to him. they have to prove it, to prove themselves. )
no subject
but he did so knowingly. with all the time they have spent together here in kenos, and not to mention vague recollections of their experiences in horos, he has never ventured so far as to ask dextera much of his world, his history, or his reason for deciding to attune or Harmonize as he does. theirs is a kinship that is at its strongest when it is at is simplest and unadorned — the more of these elements that are contextually arranged around who and what they are as individuals, the more murky the waters get. even ask he asks, makoto knows he will likely regret it. he has, after all, started to remember with the startling clarity of a splinter driven into the substance of his memory his ever-brief encounter with the archangel before — of the fury that had gripped him at the judgment he cast on dextera, how he had tried to tear the feathers of those false wings asunder with his hands and talons...
he reacts with an instinctual twinge at dextera's reply. he begins to turn as if to look at him, but he stops himself, steeling himself in to listen before he spoke or acted rashly. he... he is trying to understand, to not overpower and overwhelm dextera's words, experiences, and beliefs with his own.
ah, but it's so difficult.
dextera is one of precious few individuals he would feel a twist of sympathy for, but he does now, in sensing the odd distortion and "warbling" in his words as he forces out something he intrinsically doesn't want to disclose; makoto almost breaks, he almost tells dextera to forget about the whole thing, but — "but I'll tell you." at this, he does turn to face his friend, his odd and metallic eyes unblinking and devoid of pretense as he stares at him. he feels the weight and privilege of being granted this information, as unbelievable and terrible as it is. perhaps there were other Shard-Bearers that would judge dextera for this, who would indeed not be able to look at him or treat him the same.
but makoto is not one of them. ) Was it really a sin? ( he leans back over dextera, one hand bracing his weight on the other side of the young man's torso as he does so. even as his dark hair falls around his face, casting it into shadow, his colorless eyes seem luminous in the low light. ) What was your world to you, or you to it? What all did it ever do to deserve your efforts to set it to right?
( one would have to try to understand. this is makoto who, when formerly a young man and still human, had felt utterly misplaced and wrong in the fabric of the world he was born into, who had died and gone to Hell to find a place that would accept him. in horos, he had been prepared to sink every known or conceivable world into annihilation before he joined them, just to punish them for all those years he had felt so horrendously rejected and for all that he had suffered since.
a world and its people never have inherent or intrinsic value to him. they have to prove it, to prove themselves. )