( for a short time, the would-be rescue party has had an unaccounted-for shadow.
not everyone comes to the Kenoma well or naturally. in all honesty, makoto himself had fought against its insidious influence tooth and nail for several long, dreadful days before it had finally opened up enough cracks in his soul to sink in through, filling in those new fault-lines and smoothing them over with newfound purpose. much of this is because, at the end of the day, he has little to lose by doing so. he might spare some passing regret for the dissolution of one or two individuals he left behind, but so long as J is here in horos, he has no need to fight against the inexorable tide; no, he might as well do all he can to usher forth universal oblivion. it's what he had once sought for himself, after all — why should one stop there?
makoto had made a short mental list of individuals of the Kenoma dispatching to venera that he believed might waver in their convictions to carry out the Regent's orders. liem had been one of those, less from what he had observed from the man in their leader's address, but more from what he recalled in their meeting in the cold, quiet catacombs beneath the Citadel.
it didn't seem that he took to it very well. so he would keep a closer eye on him, and this evening, that closer eye had netted him just what he had been wary of: the act of rebellion, active and in progress.
what kept him at bay from intervening earlier was the woman at his side. liem may hide beneath hood and cloak, and hayame might hide beneath an illusion, but makoto could see the essences of their souls plainly enough with True Sight. the jinba... concerned him. he is not so perfectly toothless as he had been a few months ago, but that doesn't necessarily mean he relishes tangling with a creature he could easily see stomping him into the ground. that having been said — he's getting the sense that he's running out of time. late afternoon pushes into dusk, and then pushes on towards evening. if the venerans they are accompanying are on the list as he suspects they might be, it will be on his head if he allowed them to escape based on cowardice alone. so he steels himself and presses forward, weaving from the side-street he had been traveling parallel to them on and into a dark adjoining alleyway. the air seems to seethe with violent intent. a cat yowls in surprise, upsetting a piece of pottery that falls to the cobblestones with a loud clatter in his wake. )
Ah, Liem. ( two disproving clucks of the tongue. ) This is quite disappointing.
( just as the words sound from the figure emerging from the darkness, a short, violent gust buffets the small group in the street. it doesn't last long, and it's not particularly powerful, but it might blow back one's hood unless they reached up to pull it back down to its rightful place. )
I'd hoped you might prove smarter than this.
( as he says it, his head cants toward hayame and he sets her in a baleful gaze — eerily pale, with his eyes reflecting the light of the moon like a wild animal's. it's a clear and present insult. throughout this day and all the others, he's been wearing a variety of different glamors as disguise, but now what they see is representative for how he stands: clad in a long coat and clothing more suited to work than his more standard fare, a long and straight steel dagger catching moonlight in his right hand.
there's no point in pontificating — even if liem might find excuses, he's certain the jinba woman wouldn't. so he doesn't waste any more time. makoto's right arm draws back in a fast, fluid arc, the pommel of the blade catching between his fore and middle finger before he lashes out to fling it at hayame, a target painted on the broad equine side that was plain to his eyes, cast as a double-image over her illusion. he didn't necessarily have to be perfectly accurate; he just wanted to find the space between two ribs. )
no subject
not everyone comes to the Kenoma well or naturally. in all honesty, makoto himself had fought against its insidious influence tooth and nail for several long, dreadful days before it had finally opened up enough cracks in his soul to sink in through, filling in those new fault-lines and smoothing them over with newfound purpose. much of this is because, at the end of the day, he has little to lose by doing so. he might spare some passing regret for the dissolution of one or two individuals he left behind, but so long as J is here in horos, he has no need to fight against the inexorable tide; no, he might as well do all he can to usher forth universal oblivion. it's what he had once sought for himself, after all — why should one stop there?
makoto had made a short mental list of individuals of the Kenoma dispatching to venera that he believed might waver in their convictions to carry out the Regent's orders. liem had been one of those, less from what he had observed from the man in their leader's address, but more from what he recalled in their meeting in the cold, quiet catacombs beneath the Citadel.
it didn't seem that he took to it very well. so he would keep a closer eye on him, and this evening, that closer eye had netted him just what he had been wary of: the act of rebellion, active and in progress.
what kept him at bay from intervening earlier was the woman at his side. liem may hide beneath hood and cloak, and hayame might hide beneath an illusion, but makoto could see the essences of their souls plainly enough with True Sight. the jinba... concerned him. he is not so perfectly toothless as he had been a few months ago, but that doesn't necessarily mean he relishes tangling with a creature he could easily see stomping him into the ground. that having been said — he's getting the sense that he's running out of time. late afternoon pushes into dusk, and then pushes on towards evening. if the venerans they are accompanying are on the list as he suspects they might be, it will be on his head if he allowed them to escape based on cowardice alone. so he steels himself and presses forward, weaving from the side-street he had been traveling parallel to them on and into a dark adjoining alleyway. the air seems to seethe with violent intent. a cat yowls in surprise, upsetting a piece of pottery that falls to the cobblestones with a loud clatter in his wake. )
Ah, Liem. ( two disproving clucks of the tongue. ) This is quite disappointing.
( just as the words sound from the figure emerging from the darkness, a short, violent gust buffets the small group in the street. it doesn't last long, and it's not particularly powerful, but it might blow back one's hood unless they reached up to pull it back down to its rightful place. )
I'd hoped you might prove smarter than this.
( as he says it, his head cants toward hayame and he sets her in a baleful gaze — eerily pale, with his eyes reflecting the light of the moon like a wild animal's. it's a clear and present insult. throughout this day and all the others, he's been wearing a variety of different glamors as disguise, but now what they see is representative for how he stands: clad in a long coat and clothing more suited to work than his more standard fare, a long and straight steel dagger catching moonlight in his right hand.
there's no point in pontificating — even if liem might find excuses, he's certain the jinba woman wouldn't. so he doesn't waste any more time. makoto's right arm draws back in a fast, fluid arc, the pommel of the blade catching between his fore and middle finger before he lashes out to fling it at hayame, a target painted on the broad equine side that was plain to his eyes, cast as a double-image over her illusion. he didn't necessarily have to be perfectly accurate; he just wanted to find the space between two ribs. )