[ That's fine. The quiet helps...or maybe it doesn't, with nothing but his own thoughts to gnaw at his veins and split them open. There's a single, fleeting thought of heading to the lab to steal some of what he'd gone and made for a certain someone just to feel something a little different, but whatever rational part of him he's got left directs him otherwise.
So, he's here. The whimpers of pain that had filled his ears as he'd made his way up here had arguably settled worse than they usually would, but he's here. Staring out with a far more chilling stillness than he was the first time.
[ Yugamu is aware Solomon is there, but this time, he doesn't bother to address him first. While those steps are light, they're awfully loud to his ears, not so much as shifting even as the elder man settles next to him.
It takes a moment before the quiet breaks, and were the ache in his fingertips less severe, he might have laughed. ]
I don't mind the sound of that...maybe I'd get to see what's on the inside.
[ But at least he can still manage to quip, even if his heart isn't in it. He's not really sure where it is, actually, besides being choked. ]
I'd tell you if I knew. It was...
[ strange uncomfortable vulnerable dangerous, whirlwind anger and fondness mixing and colliding and it makes his head hurt in a way that doesn't even excite him. Perhaps that's the worst part, that he can't translate it to something he knows far better. ]
New for me, you know? I'm just a basket of contradictions.
...It's a messy thing as it is, the heart. A powerful force, like the strength of the ocean, with just as raging a temper and just as dangerous an undertow.
When is it ever easy, to know when you need a beacon or an anchor, when it feels like you might drown no matter what?
[Feelings were the most intense sort of power in his millenia of experience. A necessity, when it came to magic. But there was never an easy way to navigate them, both brittle and unbearable as they could be in turns.
...
His hands stay loosely knit together, slender fingers laced, as he tilts his head over just slightly. Studying Yugamu with eyes that tire in complex ways.]
Yugamu knows the heart is powerful. His is different than what people want it to be; his family wants it cold and and callous. His friends were prefer it tempered more, less viscous and oozing. But it is big as it is empty, covered in surgical steel and begging to be filled with something it's never known.
Would be that the ocean could do so, make it peaceful and quiet so the ache in his bones finally persists.
Yugamu doesn't comment on this, no. He ruminates, feeling those eyes scraping over him as they try to see through him a way he usually does to other people. He's not really one for talking alot, for baring himself for all to see in a way that isn't peelinng the skin from his chest, but how can he condense this? ]
I kind of thought she was a dud, at first. [ Yugamu is...honest, and she isn't here to hear, but it would be doing her a disservice to lie. ] Not that she wasn't cute, but I'm not really into that whole sweet girl next door thing. I was kind of surprised she lasted as long as she did; someone like that makes for an easy target. All insecurity, no spine.
[ He leans back in the slightest, letting silence reign for a second before he continues with a faint furrow of the brows. ]
It's not like she was bad, though. There's something charming in trying to be kind despite it all. [ His nails tap against the concrete. Once, twice. Tandem. ] I guess I'm just not used to people having my best interests at heart. I wasn't sure how to deal with it, when she told me. I'm usually the last guy you'd want to sympathize with, right?
[ Tap, tap. ]
...I hate to say it, but ever since we had that discussion, I've felt responsible. Like I needed to look out for her, since she can't do it herself. I needed to, or I was going to go stir-crazy. And now—
[ Dirt under her nails, terror in her veins. Each stab careless in it's calculation and full of no emotion but fear. He didn't want to pry his hands away, deep down, but the dead can only talk so much. Blood drips down from the nails that dig into the flesh of his hand. ]
She was very kind underneath her troubles, wasn't she? A girl of gratitude and guilt, wishing for a better life and feeling she did not deserve it. Wanting courage but being pinned down by her faith, rather than bolstered.
[It's quiet, even as he watches the blood that drips down onto the concrete. Mm, no, they were going to need to redirect that here in a moment.]
Perhaps she saw you a likehearted soul. Misunderstood and stuck.
But I do not think she, of anyone, would want to see you put blame on yourself. She knew that weight enough.
[ Lack of courage, full of dreams. Very different from the girls he's used to dealing with, but perhaps that's interesting in of itself. Somehow, deep down, he knows the fascination and the obsessive twist coiling through the gaps of his ribs wouldn't be so strong if it weren't for what they share, and he so loathes the idea of feelings given inorganically—
Likehearted. Ah, he doesn't hear that often. ]
For the love of murder...it'd be the first time someone who wasn't a fellow killer thought that. [ A sigh. ] Then again, that type of kindness could kill in it's own right.
[ There's something so...strange in being viewed as an unfortunate child, someone wronged, considering everything. For someone to see themselves in him in a way that isn't a blade in his guts. It doesn't suit him.
Such a strange, almost sour taste of normalcy, and yet that lingering flavor makes him want to chase it like a predator on the hunt. ]
...I wouldn't if I could help it. [ He doesn't like feeling like this, especially with that ever-familiar twinge of lust mixing with it, the smell of blood and death and urge to kill from before colliding into a volatile fever pitch as his fingers tap faster on the red-stained concrete. It's a terrible combination, and he knows it. ] All these emotions aren't good for an assassin, you know?
[He watches that tension coil tighter, red staining the concrete. Ah, well. He was hoping this wouldn't be a problem, but routes of deescalation were always flexible.]
It's only been a little more than two weeks, but it feels like forever since he's been in the battlefield. No sorties, no defensive battles, no training in the gym in the early mornings...nothing to sate himself in any way.
All that, plus the death, the tension, the feelings that are both his own and not plucking at all of his nerves, it's no wonder the gaze that settles on Solomon is probably the coldest it's been since he got here. ]
Solomon-sensei. [ Oh, he wants to, but he has to know. ] Do you think you can handle me?
Who's to say? [He rises to his feet.] I'm a sorcerer. Not a soldier.
But I do have a predicament, and who better than you to show me by example?
[With a flourish, the black pen with diamond inlay - the very one Solomon asked Yugamu to watch out for - is pulled out to rest in his fingers. First naturally, flicked between his fingers, before fully flipping into his palm like the hilt of a weapon.
A blink, and the pen is something else - a dagger, sharp and roughly hewn in shades of iridescent diamond.
Another blink, and the pen is once again a pen, flicking against his fingers.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
So, he's here. The whimpers of pain that had filled his ears as he'd made his way up here had arguably settled worse than they usually would, but he's here. Staring out with a far more chilling stillness than he was the first time.
How's it going, old man. ]
no subject
With a sigh, he lowers to his knees next to the young man. It's a heavy quiet. One that would feel suffocating wihout exposure.]
You could shatter men with a gaze like that, you know. [Quiet.]
Where is your mind wandering off to, Yugamu?
no subject
It takes a moment before the quiet breaks, and were the ache in his fingertips less severe, he might have laughed. ]
I don't mind the sound of that...maybe I'd get to see what's on the inside.
[ But at least he can still manage to quip, even if his heart isn't in it. He's not really sure where it is, actually, besides being choked. ]
I'd tell you if I knew. It was...
[ strange uncomfortable vulnerable dangerous, whirlwind anger and fondness mixing and colliding and it makes his head hurt in a way that doesn't even excite him. Perhaps that's the worst part, that he can't translate it to something he knows far better. ]
New for me, you know? I'm just a basket of contradictions.
no subject
...It's a messy thing as it is, the heart. A powerful force, like the strength of the ocean, with just as raging a temper and just as dangerous an undertow.
When is it ever easy, to know when you need a beacon or an anchor, when it feels like you might drown no matter what?
[Feelings were the most intense sort of power in his millenia of experience. A necessity, when it came to magic. But there was never an easy way to navigate them, both brittle and unbearable as they could be in turns.
...
His hands stay loosely knit together, slender fingers laced, as he tilts his head over just slightly. Studying Yugamu with eyes that tire in complex ways.]
...
What sort of person was she to you, Yugamu?
no subject
Yugamu knows the heart is powerful. His is different than what people want it to be; his family wants it cold and and callous. His friends were prefer it tempered more, less viscous and oozing. But it is big as it is empty, covered in surgical steel and begging to be filled with something it's never known.
Would be that the ocean could do so, make it peaceful and quiet so the ache in his bones finally persists.
Yugamu doesn't comment on this, no. He ruminates, feeling those eyes scraping over him as they try to see through him a way he usually does to other people. He's not really one for talking alot, for baring himself for all to see in a way that isn't peelinng the skin from his chest, but how can he condense this? ]
I kind of thought she was a dud, at first. [ Yugamu is...honest, and she isn't here to hear, but it would be doing her a disservice to lie. ] Not that she wasn't cute, but I'm not really into that whole sweet girl next door thing. I was kind of surprised she lasted as long as she did; someone like that makes for an easy target. All insecurity, no spine.
[ He leans back in the slightest, letting silence reign for a second before he continues with a faint furrow of the brows. ]
It's not like she was bad, though. There's something charming in trying to be kind despite it all. [ His nails tap against the concrete. Once, twice. Tandem. ] I guess I'm just not used to people having my best interests at heart. I wasn't sure how to deal with it, when she told me. I'm usually the last guy you'd want to sympathize with, right?
[ Tap, tap. ]
...I hate to say it, but ever since we had that discussion, I've felt responsible. Like I needed to look out for her, since she can't do it herself. I needed to, or I was going to go stir-crazy. And now—
[ Dirt under her nails, terror in her veins. Each stab careless in it's calculation and full of no emotion but fear. He didn't want to pry his hands away, deep down, but the dead can only talk so much. Blood drips down from the nails that dig into the flesh of his hand. ]
She just deserved better. That's what I feel.
no subject
[It's quiet, even as he watches the blood that drips down onto the concrete. Mm, no, they were going to need to redirect that here in a moment.]
Perhaps she saw you a likehearted soul. Misunderstood and stuck.
But I do not think she, of anyone, would want to see you put blame on yourself. She knew that weight enough.
no subject
Likehearted. Ah, he doesn't hear that often. ]
For the love of murder...it'd be the first time someone who wasn't a fellow killer thought that. [ A sigh. ] Then again, that type of kindness could kill in it's own right.
[ There's something so...strange in being viewed as an unfortunate child, someone wronged, considering everything. For someone to see themselves in him in a way that isn't a blade in his guts. It doesn't suit him.
Such a strange, almost sour taste of normalcy, and yet that lingering flavor makes him want to chase it like a predator on the hunt. ]
...I wouldn't if I could help it. [ He doesn't like feeling like this, especially with that ever-familiar twinge of lust mixing with it, the smell of blood and death and urge to kill from before colliding into a volatile fever pitch as his fingers tap faster on the red-stained concrete. It's a terrible combination, and he knows it. ] All these emotions aren't good for an assassin, you know?
no subject
Then why don't we get it out of your system?
[A low response.]
You're familiar with knives, I take it?
no subject
It's only been a little more than two weeks, but it feels like forever since he's been in the battlefield. No sorties, no defensive battles, no training in the gym in the early mornings...nothing to sate himself in any way.
All that, plus the death, the tension, the feelings that are both his own and not plucking at all of his nerves, it's no wonder the gaze that settles on Solomon is probably the coldest it's been since he got here. ]
Solomon-sensei. [ Oh, he wants to, but he has to know. ] Do you think you can handle me?
no subject
But I do have a predicament, and who better than you to show me by example?
[With a flourish, the black pen with diamond inlay - the very one Solomon asked Yugamu to watch out for - is pulled out to rest in his fingers. First naturally, flicked between his fingers, before fully flipping into his palm like the hilt of a weapon.
A blink, and the pen is something else - a dagger, sharp and roughly hewn in shades of iridescent diamond.
Another blink, and the pen is once again a pen, flicking against his fingers.]
I am in dire need of some practice.