[One eyebrow quirks up in disbelief that there's not a single soul who's complained about him. That sounds like the most blatant lie of all. It's almost insulting, even. Before he can make any claims about that, however, that question comes towards him and he shifts.]
My teacher is a busy man. I shouldn't bother him with trivial things like that.
Although it seems like you certainly have a lot of spare time if you're investigating the sketches done in a human's spare time.
Kufufu are you inviting me to come back and look at them more?
[He put the textbook back in its place, taking the newest sketchbook out to turn back to the pages where Chikusa Kakimoto had sketched him, shrugging carelessly.]
It is as you say. You humans talk about eternity with no real understanding or comprehension to the word. I have lived a long, long time and it feels like any reason to continue is hard to come by.
[He paused as he sat back down on the bed, laying down on it so he could flip through the sketchpad, hair fanning out around him.]
It was no lie when I said you were a rare human, enough to pique my interest. It will be a pleasant way to pass the time, getting to know you.
[Honeyed words. A feeling of importance. Chikusa reminds himself that this is how demons work, even as he comes further into the room to finally take a seat at his desk.]
And what would you do instead of continuing on? If I wasn't here for you to bother, that is.
[It's something he's extremely curious about. Humans such as himself can't kill demons. That's not within the meager amount of power that they've been granted. Such strength is for the higher powers. All they can do is chase them out, really.]
[But could they die completely? Just waste away? He doubts he'll get an honest answer... but it's worth trying anyway, so long as the demon is talkative.]
[It doesn't escape Mukuro's notice, this sudden interest in his, and he will seize what little victories he can. Chuckling lightly, he sits up, tracing the sketches Chikusa had made of him with a gloved hand.]
I've already said far too much for. Allow me to visit you again tomorrow and I might tell you.
[Because as powerful as Mukuro was, it was easier to get a human's consent. If demons were able to possess and take over just by willpower alone, Mukuro could have armies at his feet and slaughter on a mass scale. Instead, they were still bound by arcane rules and laws. Just because they had been thrown out of heaven didn't mean they still didn't have a higher power to answer to.
Besides, if he was going to visit as often as he wanted to, Chikusa would still need to have some sleep or else the signs of a demon visiting him might become apparent far earlier than what Mukuro would like.]
[Just like that, Chikusa closes himself and withdraws with his usual blank expression sliding perfectly into place.]
I don't have much interest in things that "might" happen.
[It's a weak promise, after all, although he'll give credit where credit is due- at least it's honest in some way. After all, with "might", deciding not to do something is still perfectly within its bounds.]
[There's no immediate answer. Chikusa leans back in his chair, fingers grinding against cheap plastic, and thinks. Honestly, tempting fate is probably going to be one of this worse decisions, but his curiosity is still tugging at him.]
...Tell me something I can find out and prove is truthful on my own, and I'll put more stock into you telling the truth.
[Truth isn't the usual currency of a demon, and quite frankly, speaking it is more irritating than having holy water flung in his face. Mukuro would rather be stung in his mouth a thousand times by a thousand wasps than say anything.
Yet, Chikusa had said only a truth he could 'prove'. It didn't have to be one that was a good or nice truth. Mukuro was tempted to tell him of the genocides of old, where to find the bodies of civilizations long dead and forgotten. Of how hot hellfire was, how it could consume the whole world and turn it into ashes in less than a minute. He could reveal the answers to mysteries long since gone cold, but having those verified would take time.
So instead, leaning back on his elbows on Chikusa Kakimoto's bed, he smiled like his teeth were fangs.]
Your beloved foster parents are divorcing. Your foster mother has been emotionally unfaithful some time with one of the ministers of the clergy. He's leaving the faith as well to be with her.
[When Chikusa stares this time, it isn't the expectant patient stare of a priest willing to wait out a demon, but one of silent surprise. He'd been expecting something unpleasant- a demon couldn't be trusted to give anything else. Yet he'd thought it would be morbid, or revolting.]
[Not... this close to home.]
[As quickly as he can, even knowing it won't be much use, he schools his expression again with his lips thinned.]
...I see. [Certainly something easy to verify at any rate.] I'll find that out for myself, then. If it's true... you can visit me again.
[That shock was delicious, a prelude to how tantalizing the rest of Chikusa Kakimoto's would be. He hoped it would only drive home the point of how isolated and distant from others the priest was, if he had been unaware of such a large change in the lives of those he cared for the most.
Mukuro stood easily, sauntering past the priest and heading towards the doorway.]
Whenever you're ready, call for me and I will come for you.
[He gave him one last wink before disappearing and releasing him from the dream.]
[The dream and the simple darkness which had taken up the rest of his sleep seem so strange in the morning's light. It's not that they don't feel real so much as the light glaring past his blinds is... offensive, in a way. And for more than just making him squint and press the back of his hand to his eyes. Even in his groggy state as he makes his way to the bathroom and the coffeepot to wake himself up, the words press at the back of his mind.]
[He'd asked for something he could prove. This is by far the easiest thing that he could discern the truthfulness of. Still, for a while, Chikusa stares down at the phone with his fingers rubbing against the heat of his mug.]
[It takes half an hour for him to tap in the numbers to his foster parents' home.]
[The conversation after is...]
[Would it be better if it were a long conversation? If they talked for hours, shared emotions? That's what other people have done, Chikusa thinks. Yet the conversation between him and his foster mother only has any length to it because of the awkward pauses and conversational step arounds. What can he possibly say to it all?]
[Why didn't you tell me? They're words which leave him, at some point. The only answer is a faltering line about not wanting to interrupt his work.]
[He wonders.]
[After promising to pray for her, he spends another few minutes to make up his mind before calling the Church to call out of his duties. Personal problems. It's all that needs to be said, really. They're understanding, of course, and Chikusa finds himself, for the first time in ages, with a free day all to himself.]
[Perhaps because of the demon's casually invasive presence, its reassuring emptiness no longer feels like his own. That's the excuse he tells himself when he dresses in casual clothes that feel stranger than his well worn cassock. For the rest of the day, he simply wanders the city, taking the time now and then to occupy a cafe and stare at people. It doesn't help settle him much. If anything, he feels more detached than ever.]
[Some days he wonders if there was a mistake in that accident which left him without family. It's the only way to explain how, surrounded by people, he feels like he's a thousand miles away.]
[For three more days, he does his best to return to his mundane schedule. No one says anything to him, but he's starting to see the signs now. When people had stopped their gossiping at his approach before, he'd attributed it to the usual things: knowing he was never a gossip, his position in the church, embarrassment at such chatter in a holy place of all things. That's no longer true. He can see the way they glance at him out of the corner of his eyes when he moves to leave.]
[Chikusa tries not to think about it.]
[At the end of the third day, he finally gives in. He's had enough time to get over the shock, more than enough. After the usual nightly prayers, he pauses at his desk.]
[The only being he'll ever call out to is a divine one, not a demonic one. But... Writing should be suitable, shouldn't it? In careful plain script, he writes out the name: Mukuro]
[...It might not even work. He tells himself that as he turns in for the night, fingers thumbing at the cross around his neck.]
[What Mukuro liked best about humans was that they were all so inherently selfish and self-centered. It must have been a leftover relic from when they were hunters and gatherers, where they couldn't afford to care about anyone but themselves, with occasional exceptions for their mate or their children. In modern times, it meant that face to face interactions were being phased out, where people nowadays had more information at their fingertips but instead chose to waste their lives playing games aimed at relieving them from their money. It meant that the people who should be closest to each other were the furthest apart.
For the first day, Mukuro had enjoyed the sight of Chikusa Kakimoto's anguish, how uncomfortable he looked in casual clothes, and the dawning realization that perhaps Mukuro had been telling more than one truth.
After dogging his steps for that first day, he had been dying with anticipation, so had sought out other meager distractions. He had half-expected Chikusa Kakimoto to write a demon's truths as being too dangerous and hurtful to pursue and to swear off talking to him again. After all, he wouldn't be the first human to lie to a demon, nor would he be the last. Still, Mukuro had generously been prepared to give him a week to come to his senses before he barged in anyway, when the third day he felt the whisper of his name, thin and light as paper. Well. He would accept that calling for what it was.
This time in the dream, Mukuro would be working to prepare tea. It had been a tough past few days for the young priest, after all.]
How do you like your tea?
[It was an idle question, considering he had watched enough to know, but he would start out as innocuous as a smug faced demon could be.]
[His first thought as he wakes up to a strange room that's both his and isn't his is So Mukuro is his name.]
[His second thought, when he shuffles into the rest of his apartment and sees the demon in his kitchen, is Where did he get those ingredients?]
[He doesn't voice that inquiry. Instead, slowly, he makes his way to the counter to watch the demon seem so comfortable in this pantomime of his home.]
...Lemon balm. Will drinking tea in a place that isn't real do anything?
[Even though this was a dream and his options were limitless, Mukuro used tea bags, pouring hot water from a kettle into two mugs. Even if Chikusa Kakimoto was well aware this wasn't real, it didn't mean that Mukuro should continue to press his luck with the young priest's comfort zone. Yet, anyway.
Padding over to the table, he set down one glass opposite of him, nestling down in one of the seats.]
How did you like your truth?
[It was asked idly, mockingly, Mukuro blowing the steam away from the mug, hands wrapped around it to soak up its warmth. Compared to the fires of hell, it was barely worth registering, but he liked it anyway. It was comforting, in its own way.]
Considering you're the one making it, perhaps I would consider myself lucky if it did nothing.
[Still, he drifts over to the table anyway. Being on opposite sides of a table isn't any different than when they had been on opposite sides of a counter. It should be fine, if the demon continues such mundane encounters.]
[Even if his conversational matter is like barbs digging into the back of his hands.]
[Settling down into his seat, Chikusa hides the frown on his face by staring down into the mug of tea.]
...It's better to find those sort of things out sooner than later.
[He's not going to let this creature enjoy his torment anymore than he can help it.]
Not even if it soothed some of your inner turmoil?
[Mukuro kept himself still except for the motion of his hands to bring the mug up to his lips, and his eyes, which tracked Chikusa Kakimoto's movements. It was surprising that he was so willing to sit closer to him, but he would not comment on it just in case it discouraged the behavior.
He let out a few soft chuckles at the understatement and vague answer.]
I lied to you earlier. [It was said indifferently, his mismatched eyes canting up to catch Chikusa Kakimoto's dark ones.] Your teacher, while formidable, had many weaknesses. All humans do. It's the trademark of your species. So can you blame her for acting true to her nature?
[A blunt dismissal. Demons don't offer that kind of thing. At least, not without strings attached. In a relatively minor way, Chikusa knows he's found that out for himself.]
[Yet here he is still, having allowed a demon back into his life, knowing fully the kind of lies he might be told and the harm that could be brought to him. Untangling its words are going to be a trial and a half, he can tell.]
[He meets that eyecatching stare, still not having taken a drink from his mug. More theological discussions. At least this, he's more prepared to deal with.]
Humans should strive to be better then their sinful nature.
[Still, Mukuro didn't sound put out by it, mouth curving up in an amused smirk.
He did let out a sigh at Chikusa Kakimoto's answer, taking a sip of his tea, making a face at its bitterness. He got up again to get the sugar bowl, settling back down in his seat to plop three sugar cubes carefully into his tea as he spoke.]
For what end? For a reward none can be sure of? Is striving to be better worth counting if it's done for fear of punishment instead of a want to be better?
If you are besides yourself with concern over the reasoning for our actions, then your kind should probably stop being a part of the punishment.
[Finally, with more than a little suspicion he makes no attempt to hide, Chikusa brings the mug up to his face. It's not to sip, but to sniff carefully. It smells like regular and reassuring tea... But that doesn't mean anything. A demon could have done anything to it while he was still in his room.]
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, amusement written all over his face.]
Think about the life you lead, Chikusa Kakimoto. Many would label it as 'suffering'. Having to work for people who use you, hardly trust or like you, and would gladly be rid of you. Of having only an unanswering god for company.
[He chuckled lightly at the suspicion displayed all over the priest's face as he sniffed at the tea. You wish he would put his dick in it you rude shit.]
I haven't done anything to it but brew it.
[And returning to the earlier conversation:]
Can you honestly say that you are happy with the life you lead now?
[The word doesn't leave his lips, but it's what Chikusa thinks as he avoids addressing those statements or answering that question by taking a tentative sip of the tea. Of course he's never really been happy. Desperately hopeful at best, when he'd been a child fervently believing in the God his mother told him of and striving for recognition from his teachers. Emptily content more often than not, not really living so much as he's been going through the motions of life.]
[Sleep. Eat. Work. Exorcise demons from the innocent, those who deserved another chance. Repeat it all over again the next day.]
[He knows it's hollow, now that it's been pointed out to him. But what can he do about it? How do you fill your life? All he has is the church, and even there...]
It's a good life. I could be far worse off. [He sets the mug down.] I could be dead. I could be possessed by one of your kind.
Besides... You're speaking for quite a lot of people.
[...Even if Chikusa doesn't doubt they feel that way.]
[There was the honey sweet lie that he loved telling mortals, because it was always true. They could always be happier, richer, more beautiful. They could live longer, could be free of disease, and could be loved if only they turned away from god. It was a simple thing to do, really, and it wasn't like it cost anything. Except in death.
Mukuro shrugged dutifully at Chikusa Kakimoto's weak retort, standing up to make another cup of tea.]
As a demon, you should be aware I know of the ugliness, desires, and darkest wishes of the human heart. What do you think drew me to you in the first place?
[That's what Chikusa's best bet is. Any reason that could come out of the demon's mouth- that he's interesting, that he's chosen in any way- would all be falsehoods. But that? To strike at the Church? He knows that's the most likely option.]
[That's how demons are. Remembering that helps steady himself.]
But I know the kinds of tricks your kind pulls. I don't have any intention of falling to them.
[Even if it's true... Even if he could have better.]
You have me misunderstood. I want to corrupt you, Chikusa Kakimoto. Your profession only sweetens the deal.
[It was said almost dismissively from the kitchen, Mukuro poking his head into the little opening of the counter.]
Would you like more tea?
[Said as easily if they were talking about the weather and not how Mukuro was currently planning to drag Chikusa into a sexy hell. As he let the tea steep, Mukuro chuckled lightly, leaning his hip idly against the counter.]
...Considering you just came out with saying you want to corrupt me, I can see that.
[It's nothing new to him, but for it to just come out and be said like that...]
[Wondering at the blunt response- did he just want to make things more difficult for himself as a challenge?- Chikusa points at the mug still set in front of him.]
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badliifechoiice22016-01-08 10:36 am
no subject
My teacher is a busy man. I shouldn't bother him with trivial things like that.
Although it seems like you certainly have a lot of spare time if you're investigating the sketches done in a human's spare time.
no subject
[He put the textbook back in its place, taking the newest sketchbook out to turn back to the pages where Chikusa Kakimoto had sketched him, shrugging carelessly.]
It is as you say. You humans talk about eternity with no real understanding or comprehension to the word. I have lived a long, long time and it feels like any reason to continue is hard to come by.
[He paused as he sat back down on the bed, laying down on it so he could flip through the sketchpad, hair fanning out around him.]
It was no lie when I said you were a rare human, enough to pique my interest. It will be a pleasant way to pass the time, getting to know you.
[
Because you fascinate me Corvo, etc etc.]no subject
And what would you do instead of continuing on? If I wasn't here for you to bother, that is.
[It's something he's extremely curious about. Humans such as himself can't kill demons. That's not within the meager amount of power that they've been granted. Such strength is for the higher powers. All they can do is chase them out, really.]
[But could they die completely? Just waste away? He doubts he'll get an honest answer... but it's worth trying anyway, so long as the demon is talkative.]
no subject
I've already said far too much for. Allow me to visit you again tomorrow and I might tell you.
[Because as powerful as Mukuro was, it was easier to get a human's consent. If demons were able to possess and take over just by willpower alone, Mukuro could have armies at his feet and slaughter on a mass scale. Instead, they were still bound by arcane rules and laws. Just because they had been thrown out of heaven didn't mean they still didn't have a higher power to answer to.
Besides, if he was going to visit as often as he wanted to, Chikusa would still need to have some sleep or else the signs of a demon visiting him might become apparent far earlier than what Mukuro would like.]
no subject
I don't have much interest in things that "might" happen.
[It's a weak promise, after all, although he'll give credit where credit is due- at least it's honest in some way. After all, with "might", deciding not to do something is still perfectly within its bounds.]
no subject
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, lashes lowered.]
Should I tell you 'yes' then to get what I want?
no subject
...Tell me something I can find out and prove is truthful on my own, and I'll put more stock into you telling the truth.
no subject
Yet, Chikusa had said only a truth he could 'prove'. It didn't have to be one that was a good or nice truth. Mukuro was tempted to tell him of the genocides of old, where to find the bodies of civilizations long dead and forgotten. Of how hot hellfire was, how it could consume the whole world and turn it into ashes in less than a minute. He could reveal the answers to mysteries long since gone cold, but having those verified would take time.
So instead, leaning back on his elbows on Chikusa Kakimoto's bed, he smiled like his teeth were fangs.]
Your beloved foster parents are divorcing. Your foster mother has been emotionally unfaithful some time with one of the ministers of the clergy. He's leaving the faith as well to be with her.
no subject
[When Chikusa stares this time, it isn't the expectant patient stare of a priest willing to wait out a demon, but one of silent surprise. He'd been expecting something unpleasant- a demon couldn't be trusted to give anything else. Yet he'd thought it would be morbid, or revolting.]
[Not... this close to home.]
[As quickly as he can, even knowing it won't be much use, he schools his expression again with his lips thinned.]
...I see. [Certainly something easy to verify at any rate.] I'll find that out for myself, then. If it's true... you can visit me again.
no subject
Mukuro stood easily, sauntering past the priest and heading towards the doorway.]
Whenever you're ready, call for me and I will come for you.
[He gave him one last wink before disappearing and releasing him from the dream.]
no subject
[The dream and the simple darkness which had taken up the rest of his sleep seem so strange in the morning's light. It's not that they don't feel real so much as the light glaring past his blinds is... offensive, in a way. And for more than just making him squint and press the back of his hand to his eyes. Even in his groggy state as he makes his way to the bathroom and the coffeepot to wake himself up, the words press at the back of his mind.]
[He'd asked for something he could prove. This is by far the easiest thing that he could discern the truthfulness of. Still, for a while, Chikusa stares down at the phone with his fingers rubbing against the heat of his mug.]
[It takes half an hour for him to tap in the numbers to his foster parents' home.]
[The conversation after is...]
[Would it be better if it were a long conversation? If they talked for hours, shared emotions? That's what other people have done, Chikusa thinks. Yet the conversation between him and his foster mother only has any length to it because of the awkward pauses and conversational step arounds. What can he possibly say to it all?]
[Why didn't you tell me? They're words which leave him, at some point. The only answer is a faltering line about not wanting to interrupt his work.]
[He wonders.]
[After promising to pray for her, he spends another few minutes to make up his mind before calling the Church to call out of his duties. Personal problems. It's all that needs to be said, really. They're understanding, of course, and Chikusa finds himself, for the first time in ages, with a free day all to himself.]
[Perhaps because of the demon's casually invasive presence, its reassuring emptiness no longer feels like his own. That's the excuse he tells himself when he dresses in casual clothes that feel stranger than his well worn cassock. For the rest of the day, he simply wanders the city, taking the time now and then to occupy a cafe and stare at people. It doesn't help settle him much. If anything, he feels more detached than ever.]
[Some days he wonders if there was a mistake in that accident which left him without family. It's the only way to explain how, surrounded by people, he feels like he's a thousand miles away.]
[For three more days, he does his best to return to his mundane schedule. No one says anything to him, but he's starting to see the signs now. When people had stopped their gossiping at his approach before, he'd attributed it to the usual things: knowing he was never a gossip, his position in the church, embarrassment at such chatter in a holy place of all things. That's no longer true. He can see the way they glance at him out of the corner of his eyes when he moves to leave.]
[Chikusa tries not to think about it.]
[At the end of the third day, he finally gives in. He's had enough time to get over the shock, more than enough. After the usual nightly prayers, he pauses at his desk.]
[The only being he'll ever call out to is a divine one, not a demonic one. But... Writing should be suitable, shouldn't it? In careful plain script, he writes out the name: Mukuro]
[...It might not even work. He tells himself that as he turns in for the night, fingers thumbing at the cross around his neck.]
no subject
For the first day, Mukuro had enjoyed the sight of Chikusa Kakimoto's anguish, how uncomfortable he looked in casual clothes, and the dawning realization that perhaps Mukuro had been telling more than one truth.
After dogging his steps for that first day, he had been dying with anticipation, so had sought out other meager distractions. He had half-expected Chikusa Kakimoto to write a demon's truths as being too dangerous and hurtful to pursue and to swear off talking to him again. After all, he wouldn't be the first human to lie to a demon, nor would he be the last. Still, Mukuro had generously been prepared to give him a week to come to his senses before he barged in anyway, when the third day he felt the whisper of his name, thin and light as paper. Well. He would accept that calling for what it was.
This time in the dream, Mukuro would be working to prepare tea. It had been a tough past few days for the young priest, after all.]
How do you like your tea?
[It was an idle question, considering he had watched enough to know, but he would start out as innocuous as a smug faced demon could be.]
no subject
[His second thought, when he shuffles into the rest of his apartment and sees the demon in his kitchen, is Where did he get those ingredients?]
[He doesn't voice that inquiry. Instead, slowly, he makes his way to the counter to watch the demon seem so comfortable in this pantomime of his home.]
...Lemon balm. Will drinking tea in a place that isn't real do anything?
[Logic says 'no', after all.]
no subject
[Even though this was a dream and his options were limitless, Mukuro used tea bags, pouring hot water from a kettle into two mugs. Even if Chikusa Kakimoto was well aware this wasn't real, it didn't mean that Mukuro should continue to press his luck with the young priest's comfort zone. Yet, anyway.
Padding over to the table, he set down one glass opposite of him, nestling down in one of the seats.]
How did you like your truth?
[It was asked idly, mockingly, Mukuro blowing the steam away from the mug, hands wrapped around it to soak up its warmth. Compared to the fires of hell, it was barely worth registering, but he liked it anyway. It was comforting, in its own way.]
no subject
[Still, he drifts over to the table anyway. Being on opposite sides of a table isn't any different than when they had been on opposite sides of a counter. It should be fine, if the demon continues such mundane encounters.]
[Even if his conversational matter is like barbs digging into the back of his hands.]
[Settling down into his seat, Chikusa hides the frown on his face by staring down into the mug of tea.]
...It's better to find those sort of things out sooner than later.
[He's not going to let this creature enjoy his torment anymore than he can help it.]
no subject
[Mukuro kept himself still except for the motion of his hands to bring the mug up to his lips, and his eyes, which tracked Chikusa Kakimoto's movements. It was surprising that he was so willing to sit closer to him, but he would not comment on it just in case it discouraged the behavior.
He let out a few soft chuckles at the understatement and vague answer.]
I lied to you earlier. [It was said indifferently, his mismatched eyes canting up to catch Chikusa Kakimoto's dark ones.] Your teacher, while formidable, had many weaknesses. All humans do. It's the trademark of your species. So can you blame her for acting true to her nature?
no subject
[A blunt dismissal. Demons don't offer that kind of thing. At least, not without strings attached. In a relatively minor way, Chikusa knows he's found that out for himself.]
[Yet here he is still, having allowed a demon back into his life, knowing fully the kind of lies he might be told and the harm that could be brought to him. Untangling its words are going to be a trial and a half, he can tell.]
[He meets that eyecatching stare, still not having taken a drink from his mug. More theological discussions. At least this, he's more prepared to deal with.]
Humans should strive to be better then their sinful nature.
no subject
[Still, Mukuro didn't sound put out by it, mouth curving up in an amused smirk.
He did let out a sigh at Chikusa Kakimoto's answer, taking a sip of his tea, making a face at its bitterness. He got up again to get the sugar bowl, settling back down in his seat to plop three sugar cubes carefully into his tea as he spoke.]
For what end? For a reward none can be sure of? Is striving to be better worth counting if it's done for fear of punishment instead of a want to be better?
no subject
[Finally, with more than a little suspicion he makes no attempt to hide, Chikusa brings the mug up to his face. It's not to sip, but to sniff carefully. It smells like regular and reassuring tea... But that doesn't mean anything. A demon could have done anything to it while he was still in his room.]
[
Could have put his dick in that tea water, ew]no subject
[Mukuro canted his head to the side, amusement written all over his face.]
Think about the life you lead, Chikusa Kakimoto. Many would label it as 'suffering'. Having to work for people who use you, hardly trust or like you, and would gladly be rid of you. Of having only an unanswering god for company.
[He chuckled lightly at the suspicion displayed all over the priest's face as he sniffed at the tea.
You wish he would put his dick in it you rude shit.]I haven't done anything to it but brew it.
[And returning to the earlier conversation:]
Can you honestly say that you are happy with the life you lead now?
no subject
[The word doesn't leave his lips, but it's what Chikusa thinks as he avoids addressing those statements or answering that question by taking a tentative sip of the tea. Of course he's never really been happy. Desperately hopeful at best, when he'd been a child fervently believing in the God his mother told him of and striving for recognition from his teachers. Emptily content more often than not, not really living so much as he's been going through the motions of life.]
[Sleep. Eat. Work. Exorcise demons from the innocent, those who deserved another chance. Repeat it all over again the next day.]
[He knows it's hollow, now that it's been pointed out to him. But what can he do about it? How do you fill your life? All he has is the church, and even there...]
It's a good life. I could be far worse off. [He sets the mug down.] I could be dead. I could be possessed by one of your kind.
Besides... You're speaking for quite a lot of people.
[...Even if Chikusa doesn't doubt they feel that way.]
no subject
[There was the honey sweet lie that he loved telling mortals, because it was always true. They could always be happier, richer, more beautiful. They could live longer, could be free of disease, and could be loved if only they turned away from god. It was a simple thing to do, really, and it wasn't like it cost anything. Except in death.
Mukuro shrugged dutifully at Chikusa Kakimoto's weak retort, standing up to make another cup of tea.]
As a demon, you should be aware I know of the ugliness, desires, and darkest wishes of the human heart. What do you think drew me to you in the first place?
no subject
[That's what Chikusa's best bet is. Any reason that could come out of the demon's mouth- that he's interesting, that he's chosen in any way- would all be falsehoods. But that? To strike at the Church? He knows that's the most likely option.]
[That's how demons are. Remembering that helps steady himself.]
But I know the kinds of tricks your kind pulls. I don't have any intention of falling to them.
[Even if it's true... Even if he could have better.]
[But he's seen this story play out before.]
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[It was said almost dismissively from the kitchen, Mukuro poking his head into the little opening of the counter.]
Would you like more tea?
[Said as easily if they were talking about the weather and not how Mukuro was currently planning to drag Chikusa into
a sexyhell. As he let the tea steep, Mukuro chuckled lightly, leaning his hip idly against the counter.]I am not like most other demons.
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[It's nothing new to him, but for it to just come out and be said like that...]
[Wondering at the blunt response- did he just want to make things more difficult for himself as a challenge?- Chikusa points at the mug still set in front of him.]
I've barely touched this cup. I'm fine as I am.
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