( as much as makoto was absolutely the kind of person that would have pulled a "just kidding!" sort of prank here before dancing back to being precious and withholding with what little information he had to lord over, he had actually chosen the truth this time. for all the good it does him.
humans typically don't question him, but it's difficult to do when he's stepping through a portal he had peeled open between hell and the mortal plane, dressed in full finery, pouring their ears full of all of the promises that they would have dreamed a demon would make to them once they could finally muster one. sitting as he is here and now, wan and bedraggled and bleeding and moderately pathetic, he could perhaps begrudgingly admit that it was more difficult to accept... though even the thought of doing so threatened to spark a dangerous and indignant fire. as it is, he stares gen down, chin lifted almost imperceptibly.
"you're not much to look at." he flinches visibly. brat! he says that now, but only because he's reduced to this! he curses now more than even when he had stood teetering at the cliff at the mouth of the shrine to the firebrand that he couldn't draw his wings — how he would love to pull them out to snap at their fullest length here and now, just so he could watch this guy eat at least some of his words.
but as much as his gains climbing the hierarchy of hell these past few years has given him a newfound sense of pride, makoto isn't yet blinded by it. as annoying as it is to have this pointed out to him by gen, this is an important moment that he chooses to learn from. all of that hard work means next to nothing here. he will have to start from the bottom rung once more, but he's far cleverer and more ruthless now than he was when he had been new to his second life as a demon. he will have to utilize all that he has in order to scrounge back whatever power, knowledge, and clout he had had to leave behind in the ashes of hell.
until then... there are worse things to be than underestimated. it's so much more unpleasant when this stranger looks at him that way than when he had mislead datenshou or fjord, but he will bear it.
really, he had only said that to provoke him — he doesn't think he will be nearly so cavalier as he had been with his head as he had in the past, considering the lingering doubts he has about his former immortality. he leaves that behind, changing tact so that he can find a conversational handhold and wrest back some control. ) Have you bothered to speak to anyone else trapped here with you? More often than not, they don't seem the type to allow themselves to be penned here like this, and yet here we are.
( he lets the implication rest — he doesn't want to painstakingly explain every point, because that's just annoying. but it does let him know something: in the same way that he had others he's spoken to seem to be devoid of abilities and powers they once had access to, this one seems to have nothing of the sort. otherwise he wouldn't have said something so inane. )
Were we on Earth, though, and you had summoned me... ( with his free hand he rests his chin in the cup of his palm, elbow propped up on his knee. ) Anything. ( he says it with the ironclad certainty of experience. he smiles. ) Anything the heart might be desperate enough for that one would summon a demon. Though it would come at a cost.
( most human requests are pedestrian enough. violence to slake thirst for revenge, initiated by betrayal or pettiness or wrath or love. greed. lust. once you got the hang of it, reaping mortal souls really wasn't as challenging as one might think. )
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humans typically don't question him, but it's difficult to do when he's stepping through a portal he had peeled open between hell and the mortal plane, dressed in full finery, pouring their ears full of all of the promises that they would have dreamed a demon would make to them once they could finally muster one. sitting as he is here and now, wan and bedraggled and bleeding and moderately pathetic, he could perhaps begrudgingly admit that it was more difficult to accept... though even the thought of doing so threatened to spark a dangerous and indignant fire. as it is, he stares gen down, chin lifted almost imperceptibly.
"you're not much to look at." he flinches visibly. brat! he says that now, but only because he's reduced to this! he curses now more than even when he had stood teetering at the cliff at the mouth of the shrine to the firebrand that he couldn't draw his wings — how he would love to pull them out to snap at their fullest length here and now, just so he could watch this guy eat at least some of his words.
but as much as his gains climbing the hierarchy of hell these past few years has given him a newfound sense of pride, makoto isn't yet blinded by it. as annoying as it is to have this pointed out to him by gen, this is an important moment that he chooses to learn from. all of that hard work means next to nothing here. he will have to start from the bottom rung once more, but he's far cleverer and more ruthless now than he was when he had been new to his second life as a demon. he will have to utilize all that he has in order to scrounge back whatever power, knowledge, and clout he had had to leave behind in the ashes of hell.
until then... there are worse things to be than underestimated. it's so much more unpleasant when this stranger looks at him that way than when he had mislead datenshou or fjord, but he will bear it.
really, he had only said that to provoke him — he doesn't think he will be nearly so cavalier as he had been with his head as he had in the past, considering the lingering doubts he has about his former immortality. he leaves that behind, changing tact so that he can find a conversational handhold and wrest back some control. ) Have you bothered to speak to anyone else trapped here with you? More often than not, they don't seem the type to allow themselves to be penned here like this, and yet here we are.
( he lets the implication rest — he doesn't want to painstakingly explain every point, because that's just annoying. but it does let him know something: in the same way that he had others he's spoken to seem to be devoid of abilities and powers they once had access to, this one seems to have nothing of the sort. otherwise he wouldn't have said something so inane. )
Were we on Earth, though, and you had summoned me... ( with his free hand he rests his chin in the cup of his palm, elbow propped up on his knee. ) Anything. ( he says it with the ironclad certainty of experience. he smiles. ) Anything the heart might be desperate enough for that one would summon a demon. Though it would come at a cost.
( most human requests are pedestrian enough. violence to slake thirst for revenge, initiated by betrayal or pettiness or wrath or love. greed. lust. once you got the hang of it, reaping mortal souls really wasn't as challenging as one might think. )