How is it that you've come to crave death with such fervor, and suffer no fear of its embrace? [ Years ago, a teenage boy had called out to J to ultimately end his life too. The demon remembers clearly how his eyes had been equally absent of tears. ( Up until the satisfying climax of their arrangement. ) Devoid of everything but the determination to deliver his soul into the open arms of oblivion, in exchange for throwing open the lid to the veritable Pandora's box comprised of his innermost desires. A cursed sarcophagus he'd only peeked into before, in intermingled awe and fear over the horrors that lay within.
As the wisp of a girl calls out to him for the same erasure, a pang of nostalgia rises up like a summer's heady fog. Parallels draw themselves between the present and days past that include but don't end at Makoto's induction into his thrall. The stirrings of self-destruction run like a red thread of fate through the very contractor of his ward's grisly end.
J also awaits the day someone, (Makoto, he can only hope), will be strong enough to pull down the final curtain on his life, and give him what he's always wished for. Scattering his atoms like stardust across space and time.
The three of them connect together now, here in this alien world. Their fates drawing themselves out like cartography and the neurons that light up with all the veracity of her brightest bloom of light. ]
Has life caused you so much sorrow that it no longer seems worthwhile?
[ As she clearly opens herself up to contact, with fingers tucking into clothes like a child begging to be plucked up from the floor and coddled in a parent's arms, J acquiesces. Just as he had once before, to commemorate the event of Makoto fulfilling his own father's contract with a knife to his immortal heart, and suffering such a breakdown he'd collapsed into sobs, J gathers a body close. While her clutch upon his immaculate white shirt aids in drawing him in, he does the brunt of the work.
If she doesn't resist being held, a free arm sweeps under her legs as the other sides from the sickly flesh of a cheek, both chilled and damp to the touch, to cradle her back. And with that she's coaxed into his arms, away from the hard slab of rock and its chill. At every point of contact, all of J is strangely warm. His body heat trapped further to coax some of it into her own as white wings draw a curtain around them like the closure of a trap. ]
cw: suicidal thoughts
As the wisp of a girl calls out to him for the same erasure, a pang of nostalgia rises up like a summer's heady fog. Parallels draw themselves between the present and days past that include but don't end at Makoto's induction into his thrall. The stirrings of self-destruction run like a red thread of fate through the very contractor of his ward's grisly end.
J also awaits the day someone, (Makoto, he can only hope), will be strong enough to pull down the final curtain on his life, and give him what he's always wished for. Scattering his atoms like stardust across space and time.
The three of them connect together now, here in this alien world. Their fates drawing themselves out like cartography and the neurons that light up with all the veracity of her brightest bloom of light. ]
Has life caused you so much sorrow that it no longer seems worthwhile?
[ As she clearly opens herself up to contact, with fingers tucking into clothes like a child begging to be plucked up from the floor and coddled in a parent's arms, J acquiesces. Just as he had once before, to commemorate the event of Makoto fulfilling his own father's contract with a knife to his immortal heart, and suffering such a breakdown he'd collapsed into sobs, J gathers a body close. While her clutch upon his immaculate white shirt aids in drawing him in, he does the brunt of the work.
If she doesn't resist being held, a free arm sweeps under her legs as the other sides from the sickly flesh of a cheek, both chilled and damp to the touch, to cradle her back. And with that she's coaxed into his arms, away from the hard slab of rock and its chill. At every point of contact, all of J is strangely warm. His body heat trapped further to coax some of it into her own as white wings draw a curtain around them like the closure of a trap. ]