[The debate is this: Do kindred hang, suspended in the amber of the moment between their life and unlife? Or do many cling to that reasoning because the only other option is degredation? It's a debate Charlie is wholly uninterested in. He is nothing but a firm reality, meeting the abstract with hostile indifference. What he is right now is a man sitting on a medical bed, watching a boy bleed for him.
But, a marriage between the real and the metaphysical isn't impossible. He has a wife in the strange space between things, often unseen but made body & flesh by his demand. Lester hasn't accompanied him here, but if he indulged her theory-laden perspective, he'd see her with him in how the tangible and intangible coalescence to make up the world.
Another amalgam occupies his thoughts. Desire. Want. This feeling that both precedes and outlasts every other thought. Hoping such a thing will cease is more of a risk than pursuing it, even in the face of a contradiction. You want to do something that hurts people, but you don't want it to hurt people. Charlie recognizes the inherent strife of this mindset. Denial is the most acute source of self-contradiction.
He doesn't feel it, believing himself a consistently amoral being. He's simply a changeable man. I want to hurt you. Now I don't. Both isolated and easy to achieve.
In the silence, Charlie reaches over Makoto's upturned arm to pluck the filled vial from his hands. He's acquiesced to this quiet, but he can't settle with a complete lack of communication. Bodies talk when voices don't.
A source of comfort in the tumult between reality and thought.]
Well, now that you're a demon, are you getting everything you want? [Genial, Charlie speaks to guide the conversation's focus, hoping it will continue to focus on Makoto. He uses the present tense - because he understands the perpetuity of want. Hunger.
His eyes rake over the boy's hands with a spark of that very desire. Bony knuckles, skin stretched a bit too tightly over hands that don't seem to possess much strength. Shaken and pale now, he appears even more fragile. A boy sick with himself.
Maybe Makoto needs a villain. Someone to torment him and erode that kindness. If his heart can't be swayed, he'll at least have the consolation of a universal expectation to retaliate. Revenge is revenge, whether emotionally driven or a simple matter of course. Both equally acceptable excuses to desecrate someone...
But Charlie isn't willing play that part. He's capable, yes, but he'd rather make a connection between two people. Either he stumbles upon a truly vile person, or he'll concoct a particular image of someone in this boy. That he'd prefer the first does nothing to abate the wickedness of being willing to do the second.]
no subject
But, a marriage between the real and the metaphysical isn't impossible. He has a wife in the strange space between things, often unseen but made body & flesh by his demand. Lester hasn't accompanied him here, but if he indulged her theory-laden perspective, he'd see her with him in how the tangible and intangible coalescence to make up the world.
Another amalgam occupies his thoughts. Desire. Want. This feeling that both precedes and outlasts every other thought. Hoping such a thing will cease is more of a risk than pursuing it, even in the face of a contradiction. You want to do something that hurts people, but you don't want it to hurt people. Charlie recognizes the inherent strife of this mindset. Denial is the most acute source of self-contradiction.
He doesn't feel it, believing himself a consistently amoral being. He's simply a changeable man. I want to hurt you. Now I don't. Both isolated and easy to achieve.
In the silence, Charlie reaches over Makoto's upturned arm to pluck the filled vial from his hands. He's acquiesced to this quiet, but he can't settle with a complete lack of communication. Bodies talk when voices don't.
A source of comfort in the tumult between reality and thought.]
Well, now that you're a demon, are you getting everything you want? [Genial, Charlie speaks to guide the conversation's focus, hoping it will continue to focus on Makoto. He uses the present tense - because he understands the perpetuity of want. Hunger.
His eyes rake over the boy's hands with a spark of that very desire. Bony knuckles, skin stretched a bit too tightly over hands that don't seem to possess much strength. Shaken and pale now, he appears even more fragile. A boy sick with himself.
Maybe Makoto needs a villain. Someone to torment him and erode that kindness. If his heart can't be swayed, he'll at least have the consolation of a universal expectation to retaliate. Revenge is revenge, whether emotionally driven or a simple matter of course. Both equally acceptable excuses to desecrate someone...
But Charlie isn't willing play that part. He's capable, yes, but he'd rather make a connection between two people. Either he stumbles upon a truly vile person, or he'll concoct a particular image of someone in this boy. That he'd prefer the first does nothing to abate the wickedness of being willing to do the second.]