( makoto knows plenty about them as well — it had only been a few short years ago that he, as a human teenager, a high school student and little else, had searched through the esoteric and the taboo long enough to find a ritual that claimed to be able to summon a demon. and summon a demon he had, leading to the long, troublesome series of events that led him to become the creature which dextera now finds himself encountering.
he didn't need to answer. really, makoto isn't interested in the answers — it's very unlikely any fool trapped here with him knows much more than he does. he's only interested in information, in learning who it is he's either cooperating with or up against. no answer, then, can be just as valuable. it's all information.
he watches the cracker break under the worrying, absent-mindedly counting the number of pieces before the stranger's hand moves. makoto's gray-on-red eyes track it, marking the shape of the cross where it's drawn. sometimes his life as a human feels centuries and thousands of miles away from him, but it feels closer now — even if it's odd that it does, given that there's some quality about this stranger doesn't reek of mortality as most here do. curious, curious...)
A ritual to God? ( he handles the word carelessly, but, then again, he is a demon, and he had hated God long before he'd become one — he would hate any deity that would revile him for something about himself he had no hand in controlling. he maneuvers ever-so-slightly closer to the stranger, strange eyes set to cut through any reaction as he continues, provoking, ) And what sacrifice do you think we would make to God?
( though the way he says it implies far more: what sort of sacrifice do you think you would make to God?)
no subject
he didn't need to answer. really, makoto isn't interested in the answers — it's very unlikely any fool trapped here with him knows much more than he does. he's only interested in information, in learning who it is he's either cooperating with or up against. no answer, then, can be just as valuable. it's all information.
he watches the cracker break under the worrying, absent-mindedly counting the number of pieces before the stranger's hand moves. makoto's gray-on-red eyes track it, marking the shape of the cross where it's drawn. sometimes his life as a human feels centuries and thousands of miles away from him, but it feels closer now — even if it's odd that it does, given that there's some quality about this stranger doesn't reek of mortality as most here do. curious, curious... )
A ritual to God? ( he handles the word carelessly, but, then again, he is a demon, and he had hated God long before he'd become one — he would hate any deity that would revile him for something about himself he had no hand in controlling. he maneuvers ever-so-slightly closer to the stranger, strange eyes set to cut through any reaction as he continues, provoking, ) And what sacrifice do you think we would make to God?
( though the way he says it implies far more: what sort of sacrifice do you think you would make to God? )