( how much of one’s intrinsic nature is inherent or elastic? how much of it belongs to them, or how much of it belongs to their family and their environment? what is more true of a person: the ugliness at their core, or the goodness in their heart that tries to keep that ugliness from inflicting its dark will on the world? all of these have been thoughts to plague makoto in his more quiet, sleepless moments as he continues to slowly come to terms with his new existence and what it means to him. when J had offered to take him into hell as a demon underling underneath his own wing, he had allowed himself to be swept away by a romantic idealization of what that promise could be. he had thought that it could be so easy. but it wasn’t. more and more, he has to wonder… was this just an added torment? he had spent so many years stifling and suppressing wide swathes of himself from everyone around him, terrified that he might become exactly the kind of monster they all assumed he would. but as a demon, either in hell or here at this accursed resort, what other choice does he have…? trying to cling to his now-nonexistent humanity and fully deny himself only made things messier—he thinks there’s only so long he would be able to do something like that before giving in, perhaps in the worst possible way. on the other hand, fully giving in feels like it makes the sacrifice of summoning a demon and selling his soul feel moot. if he was going to end up preying on people here, maybe he should have just kept living and become that monster anyway?
no, this is the answer that he tries to find to this complicated, thorny question, even if it is in and of itself messy and imperfect. he tries to find the blurry, intangible line between. he tries to find what few individuals who can satisfy him without great personal sacrifice and sequester those darker, hungrier desires to them—so long as he keeps them occasionally sated, he feels more free to be more… normal, the rest of the time. he knows that the balance is precarious; he often worries that it’s not a feasible long-term solution, especially for someone who might live for hundred years… potentially forever. what then?
J had once told him that contradiction is only something that lives in the hearts of humans. these thoughts, then, are pathetically “human”—a demon would have no problem living and breathing in their contradiction, fearless of being considered hypocritical, for they pursued their natures freely and earnestly, regardless of their depravity. that’s why continuing to live on as a demon feels like a curse, given his reason for summoning J in the first place. with endless time before him, it feels like an inevitability that he would one day fully embody being a “demon,” rather than foolishly clinging to the trappings of humanity as he did. either that, or he might suffer a fate far worse than the simple cessation of death.
he lets charlie take the first vial. it is his, after all, well and traded for. the attention that remains fixated to the second, which slowly fills with blood, is tugged toward the other man in a venomous, narrowed glare. his lips press into a thin, bloodless line. he wasn’t sure how to interpret the amiable tone—unfortunately, makoto tends to default toward reads in bad faith (he’s suffered sleights far more often than he’s been granted honesty). )
I’m here, aren’t I?
( the golden peacock? here, in this room, his heart working to pump three vials of blood from his body? the answer could be either, really. it didn’t matter. it would be the same, even if he were still in hell. )
Since becoming a demon, I’ve learned two lessons. The first is that no one is just going to give me something that I want—I’m going to have to figure out how to get it myself. The second is that a goal like that doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have the power to achieve it.
( he breathes out a short, aggrieved sigh. the blood loss isn’t bad enough to affect him too badly, but he can sense a faint shimmer to the edges of his vision. and he’s still got one more after this one is full… )
The rules are different here than they were in Hell. But, I’m trying to adjust. If I just get the strength, then I’ll have the ability to do just that. Get whatever I want.
( ironically, charlie has stumbled across J’s entire reason in bringing makoto into hell to become a demon in the first place. the archduke would become that very villain, inflicting such injuries upon the young man’s heart that there was no other recourse for him but to stoke it as an engine that would churn and burn tirelessly for one, all-encompassing goal: revenge. as the most powerful demon in hell, fettered by his own immortality and the rules that bound all of them, attempting to foster a rival that would grow to eclipse even his own power was J’s only potential option for escape. he had sensed a shard of potential in makoto, when he was still human. one day, he would prove its veracity: he would become an archduke to replace his master.
but, for now, he has not suffered the emotional wounds that would push him past that point of no return. he exists in a soft and nascent state, the sharp glint of his potential embedded deep within vestigial sentimentality. )
no subject
( how much of one’s intrinsic nature is inherent or elastic? how much of it belongs to them, or how much of it belongs to their family and their environment? what is more true of a person: the ugliness at their core, or the goodness in their heart that tries to keep that ugliness from inflicting its dark will on the world? all of these have been thoughts to plague makoto in his more quiet, sleepless moments as he continues to slowly come to terms with his new existence and what it means to him. when J had offered to take him into hell as a demon underling underneath his own wing, he had allowed himself to be swept away by a romantic idealization of what that promise could be. he had thought that it could be so easy. but it wasn’t. more and more, he has to wonder… was this just an added torment? he had spent so many years stifling and suppressing wide swathes of himself from everyone around him, terrified that he might become exactly the kind of monster they all assumed he would. but as a demon, either in hell or here at this accursed resort, what other choice does he have…? trying to cling to his now-nonexistent humanity and fully deny himself only made things messier—he thinks there’s only so long he would be able to do something like that before giving in, perhaps in the worst possible way. on the other hand, fully giving in feels like it makes the sacrifice of summoning a demon and selling his soul feel moot. if he was going to end up preying on people here, maybe he should have just kept living and become that monster anyway?
no, this is the answer that he tries to find to this complicated, thorny question, even if it is in and of itself messy and imperfect. he tries to find the blurry, intangible line between. he tries to find what few individuals who can satisfy him without great personal sacrifice and sequester those darker, hungrier desires to them—so long as he keeps them occasionally sated, he feels more free to be more… normal, the rest of the time. he knows that the balance is precarious; he often worries that it’s not a feasible long-term solution, especially for someone who might live for hundred years… potentially forever. what then?
J had once told him that contradiction is only something that lives in the hearts of humans. these thoughts, then, are pathetically “human”—a demon would have no problem living and breathing in their contradiction, fearless of being considered hypocritical, for they pursued their natures freely and earnestly, regardless of their depravity. that’s why continuing to live on as a demon feels like a curse, given his reason for summoning J in the first place. with endless time before him, it feels like an inevitability that he would one day fully embody being a “demon,” rather than foolishly clinging to the trappings of humanity as he did. either that, or he might suffer a fate far worse than the simple cessation of death.
he lets charlie take the first vial. it is his, after all, well and traded for. the attention that remains fixated to the second, which slowly fills with blood, is tugged toward the other man in a venomous, narrowed glare. his lips press into a thin, bloodless line. he wasn’t sure how to interpret the amiable tone—unfortunately, makoto tends to default toward reads in bad faith (he’s suffered sleights far more often than he’s been granted honesty). )
I’m here, aren’t I?
( the golden peacock? here, in this room, his heart working to pump three vials of blood from his body? the answer could be either, really. it didn’t matter. it would be the same, even if he were still in hell. )
Since becoming a demon, I’ve learned two lessons. The first is that no one is just going to give me something that I want—I’m going to have to figure out how to get it myself. The second is that a goal like that doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have the power to achieve it.
( he breathes out a short, aggrieved sigh. the blood loss isn’t bad enough to affect him too badly, but he can sense a faint shimmer to the edges of his vision. and he’s still got one more after this one is full… )
The rules are different here than they were in Hell. But, I’m trying to adjust. If I just get the strength, then I’ll have the ability to do just that. Get whatever I want.
( ironically, charlie has stumbled across J’s entire reason in bringing makoto into hell to become a demon in the first place. the archduke would become that very villain, inflicting such injuries upon the young man’s heart that there was no other recourse for him but to stoke it as an engine that would churn and burn tirelessly for one, all-encompassing goal: revenge. as the most powerful demon in hell, fettered by his own immortality and the rules that bound all of them, attempting to foster a rival that would grow to eclipse even his own power was J’s only potential option for escape. he had sensed a shard of potential in makoto, when he was still human. one day, he would prove its veracity: he would become an archduke to replace his master.
but, for now, he has not suffered the emotional wounds that would push him past that point of no return. he exists in a soft and nascent state, the sharp glint of his potential embedded deep within vestigial sentimentality. )