( well, that, and he’s a demon from hell—he’d learned very quickly that one’s default should be cautiously mistrusting others, saving trust for sparing use or perhaps never at all. it hadn’t taken a single week for the trust he placed in J to be proven to be foolish. maybe there was some amount of trust he could instill in fjord, given how heartfelt the advice he had given him was (and how useful it had ended up being). but, then again, he had come at J’s beck and call to remove the last of makoto’s humanity, so maybe he’s insane for even considering him a “friend” in the first place.
at least esi seems in on the joke, even if his slyness only elicits a thin-lipped frown from makoto. he emits a sigh at the question, more as if he’s being put upon rather than made uncomfortable by the dare. )
Let’s just say I don’t feel particularly romanced to bare everything to you right now. ( that, and he’s just not particularly enthused to go sticking anything into his ass right now. he briefly considers it, his thoughts ironically go down a similar track as J’s did, when they were still contracted to one another. just sticking something into his mouth isn’t all that fascinating or exciting either—so what is it that he can do to make this more fun? more fascinating or exciting?
perhaps it’s his memory of those last few minutes of his mortal life that give him his answer. his lips curve into a feline smile. ) So I’ll give you two options. You can find something to stick into my mouth and we can move along, or,( and here, in a motion so swift and understated one might feel as though they had misinterpreted watching it, he reaches up, curls his forefinger under the loop of one of the stitches on the front of his throat, and pulls. the stitch gives a soft pop as it breaks; makoto flinches at the sharp stab of pain, but it’s not so bad—not nearly as bad as losing one’s head, which he has weathered multiple times by this point.
a trickle of blood leaks from the widened seam in the skin, running down his throat and disappearing past the collar of his shirt. he even goes as far as to spread the torn flesh, expression both dark and lurid. ) You can find something to put here.
( one thing’s for certain: playing the part that J had for him all those months ago is giving him a perverse thrill, so he’s already having more fun. )
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( well, that, and he’s a demon from hell—he’d learned very quickly that one’s default should be cautiously mistrusting others, saving trust for sparing use or perhaps never at all. it hadn’t taken a single week for the trust he placed in J to be proven to be foolish. maybe there was some amount of trust he could instill in fjord, given how heartfelt the advice he had given him was (and how useful it had ended up being). but, then again, he had come at J’s beck and call to remove the last of makoto’s humanity, so maybe he’s insane for even considering him a “friend” in the first place.
at least esi seems in on the joke, even if his slyness only elicits a thin-lipped frown from makoto. he emits a sigh at the question, more as if he’s being put upon rather than made uncomfortable by the dare. )
Let’s just say I don’t feel particularly romanced to bare everything to you right now. ( that, and he’s just not particularly enthused to go sticking anything into his ass right now. he briefly considers it, his thoughts ironically go down a similar track as J’s did, when they were still contracted to one another. just sticking something into his mouth isn’t all that fascinating or exciting either—so what is it that he can do to make this more fun? more fascinating or exciting?
perhaps it’s his memory of those last few minutes of his mortal life that give him his answer. his lips curve into a feline smile. ) So I’ll give you two options. You can find something to stick into my mouth and we can move along, or, ( and here, in a motion so swift and understated one might feel as though they had misinterpreted watching it, he reaches up, curls his forefinger under the loop of one of the stitches on the front of his throat, and pulls. the stitch gives a soft pop as it breaks; makoto flinches at the sharp stab of pain, but it’s not so bad—not nearly as bad as losing one’s head, which he has weathered multiple times by this point.
a trickle of blood leaks from the widened seam in the skin, running down his throat and disappearing past the collar of his shirt. he even goes as far as to spread the torn flesh, expression both dark and lurid. ) You can find something to put here.
( one thing’s for certain: playing the part that J had for him all those months ago is giving him a perverse thrill, so he’s already having more fun. )