EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (VENERA)

[aionmods]

Sovereign Citizens

VENERA

In contrast the Aion's last visit, they now arrive in Venera on a completely average day... or so it seems. Unlike Godsblood, Venera has been given no warning as to what's about to befall it; the Kenoma are simply authorized to arrive and begin their bloody work without fanfare. Even their entourage of Achamite soldier don't stick out that much; in the time since the plague left, the city has refilled with occupying forces. Notably, the Hylician ones seem to be keeping out of the way, almost as if they've heard some things and would rather not be involved too closely in what's to come.

As opposed to the ghost town it was during the plague, Venera is now reasonably active, with most attending to their usual business. Shops are open, and its people are withdrawn but superficially friendly when meeting strangers. Initially, the targets of the Kenoma hit list will have no way of knowing what's coming for them, but after the first couple attacks word will begin to spread. Those that have recently been engaging in seditious behavior will become harder to find, leaving their usual homes and workplaces to stay elsewhere, and making other attempts to escape the Regent's attention.

Once those alerts have been raised, the Kenoma will have to engage in more detective work to find their targets, questioning other Venerans and seeking out fugitives in the homes of their family and friends. In the meantime, some of those who believe they are in danger may become desperately enough to seek out the Pleroma directly, imploring them for aid. Unfortunately, seeking out one sect may just as easily draw the attention of the other. Most uninvolved Venerans will be too terrified to intervene one way or another, reluctant to aid in the persecution of their neighbors but fearful of consequences. If your Aion travels openly, it will take some effort to pin them down long enough to hold a conversation.

SEEDS OF DESPAIR

Several days into the culling of Venera, the Aions will have witnessed the city gradually withdraw into itself. The streets become vacant as more and more people decide it isn't worth the risk to be seen outside, abandoning work and play alike to hide out in their homes, refusing to answer their doors to all except the most desperate pleading. Those that can't avoid their daily obligations are quiet and morose, trying their best to remain unseen and unremarked upon.

If your character has been observed as a Kenoma, either now or in their previous visits to the city, the citizens will look upon them as if they are the messengers of death. If you are seen as a Pleroma, they will resist your gaze, as if fearing your presence alone might leave them marked. In rarer cases, you will see those with stronger spirits, with glares of hatred or determination. They are powerless now, but seeds have been sewn, and whether they are the seeds of despair or of action are yet unclear.

By the time the Kenoma's hit list has been fully addressed, several have been killed and several more have been rushed from their homes to flee the city entirely. There have been holes left in the tapestry of the community they were once part of. One way or another, their absence will be felt keenly by those they left behind.

QUESTIONS

What is the best way for Aions to travel to Venera?
Estinien has plans to get an early start for the Pleroma by teleporting to the Lover's shrine and flying somewhere closer to set up a portal from the ocean caves near the Godsblood Lodestone to a spot of farmland closer to Venera. Paul will be setting up a portal directly from Achamoth to one of the Achamite outposts in Venera.

How much force can the Kenoma use while interrogating Venerans?
While they are generally not permitted to kill Venerans who haven't tried to physically fight them, they will be permitted to apply both physical and mental pressure upon those that refuse to provide them with information regarding the whereabouts of their targets. This duress should be proportional to the resistance the Veneran is offering. The Regent is not inviting them to terrorize Venera on a level to a level they cannot reasonably blaim themselves for.

Comments

[affal]

( it is early. too early for makoto's preferences, but he had been roused (rather loudly and obnoxiously) by J a short time earlier, seemingly falling victim once more to the demon's mercenary whims. whether it was a flight of fancy or embedded in some sort of plot or scheme of the man's is entirely beyond his reckoning; he has learned over time when to stand his ground and when to bend and acquiesce... or, rather, he's learned that the former typically incurs something exceptionally unpleasant for him, so he now is far more likely to do the latter. he had gotten ready, grumbling, and then accompanied J out into the empty, silent streets into the increasingly abandoned city.

streets that end up a whole lot less empty and silent with the tall, winged demon and the much smaller scrap of a young man tagging along at his side, griping all the while. )

— it might not matter anymore given that most of the city has gone to ground regardless, but you really should at least get familiar with using some glamors. Certain things you can probably get away with — your horns, your height, maybe the tail — but with your wings and your legs on top of that - you shatter any hope we might have at keeping a low profile before it even has a chance to stand.

( and so on...

but what diverts them from the path that their day could have taken, unfortunately for barnaby, is makoto's attunement. they are in a rare silent lull in their conversation (read: argument) when he catches the rare sight of a figure slipping across the road at an intersection up ahead, and where anyone else would have simply seen the nondescript hooded figure, makoto catches the odd sight of a type of aura that he's never seen before. not since he's acquired True Sight. he's seen the different hues of the Pleroma and the Kenoma and how they change based on the progressive shift in attunement, but this figure... he senses the presence of an Aion, but it has neither tinge. inexplicably Untouched, when he was certain there were none left that were unclaimed by either side.

he reaches out to take J's hand, looking up to him and placing one forefinger to his lips to silence him. he gestures to where the figure disappeared around the corner of a building, and then they begin to follow, silently as two demons could manage.

when barnaby places his mark on the ground next to the "x" that hayame had left, he doesn't see any pursuers because he keeps his eyes cast down the adjoining streets. a few stories above him, and a short distance away, makoto stands next to J, eyes fixed laserlike on the figure as it begins to move down the street. ) An Aion, and their shard has lost its attunement. ( just to catch J up on what had drawn his attention — one of the other lovely benefits of having attuned further is he can now draw a sense of superiority from being more highly "ranked" in the Kenoma than his master was (and he could see it clear as day).

his eyes — glamored into the ones he'd had when he was still human — gleam with threatening intent. ) Someone seems to have lost their faith.

[1/2]

[tohell]

At this time of day? Not even the earliest of early birds should be out and about now. [ Arms stretch themselves over his head as J's spine pulls him into a cat-like stretch, mid-stride. Standing on the tipiest of his rounded toes, he takes a momentary pause without missing a beat in his snappy comebacks. ] What are the odds our marks would choose this exact moment to throw themselves at our feet?

[ He only picks up his pace again once the kinks are worked free from muscles still tense from the night prior. With the way he acts, few would believe he'd spent the midnight hours dwelling over what lies unseen and unknown on the horizon and listening to Makoto breathe. Giving proof with every exhale that he is in fact hearty and hale. Safe, for now. ]

You know, I was of a mind that it'd do us good to come out and enjoy a little of Venera's fresh morning air together. [ Doubtful, upon consideration of his insistence that they not loiter in bed any longer. But that's his story, and he's sticking to it. ] Must you spoil our stroll by henpecking me?

Besides, while you may be quite adorable like this, Makoto- That's because it's a recreation of your original self. [ A forefinger draws over to slip under his ward's chin. Affectionate as it is, the touch is teasingly short-lived. Surely meant to incentivize a reaction before J withdraws his hand and the fleeting contact. J makes for a difficult study when little of him has peeked beneath the enigmatic veneer he's worn since absconding with Makoto from life itself to the very heart of a world that would subject him to a trial by fire no other mortal's soul could bear. But perhaps one thing he's accidentally let slip is J's attachment to his physical form. A body that, for better or worse, brought him under the attention of a benefactor that still haunts him in shadow and memory. Perhaps it's one of the few pieces of his past J can always carry around with himself, like a living monument to a man that left him mired in fading memories and lasting heartache. ] But, me? Why would I ever want to be stripped of what makes me who I am?

I'm too much of a whole snack, for that. [ Chin tilted up as the demon proudly crows about his own beauty, J rattles long into the morning with an enthusiastic wagging of his finger and a slew of jargon surely considered cringeworthy by his present company. ]

[2/2]

[tohell]

[ With the touch of Makoto's small hand settled into his, their meandering across barren streets turns into a full-blown chase. They stay linked a moment or two longer than necessary, with J's hand curled over his in a protective reversal of Makoto's touch from a short time ago, on a beach under the warmth of this world's shining sun. Yet the eventual separation is inevitable and so sudden he's uncertain of who let go first. The strange injection of intimacy in the middle of this mission is gone so quickly it might as well have been a figment of the imagination.

In finding himself upon a rooftop, J absorbs all that Makoto says with a nagging sense that all that's transpired in the days leading up to now are a trail of breadcrumbs, spelling out in once indecipherable clues what they're now about to find.

They're too high up and their target well-shrouded in an obstructive hood in ways that keep their identity a mystery. But the Aion's silhouette gives enough away, when it's height alone eliminates any of their shorter compatriots from being suspects. If this isn't one of the younger recruits or any of the women it's most likely a man, whose foundations have wavered to such a degree they've been stripped of even the essence of the Kenoma. The Regent's summons immediately rushes to the forefront of J's mind as the words slide off Makoto's tongue with a thirst for the hunt. 'Someone seems to have lost their faith.' For a moment he gives the barest pause, then J makes a choice he'd already been saddled with, back on that fateful day when the Regent had drawn every Aion into their audience. Whoever this is, he can't allow them to evade his grasp. ]

A runaway, huh? It's quite rude of them to slip away like a thief in the night without so much as a goodbye. [ The canal running along the length of the street provides a natural barricade to prevent escape from that side. Without any trace of the Kenoma left in the traitor's shard, they should be reverted to the same powerless state J had experienced upon his arrival here. In those terrifying moments he'd spent sapped of every strength and ability, before Makoto had force-fed his newly reborn body the contents of a certain vial.

In the best of circumstances, a strong swimmer would still be at a disadvantage against two opponents if they took a dive and isolated themselves in the water. It's even more unlikely they'll take such drastic measures, now. Which means the two of them only need to block off either ends of the street the hooded figure now walks. Barring any side streets that open into that one, that plan of attack should cage their target in and block off the major routes of escape. ]

I think I'll pay Houdini here a visit, and make sure they don't perform a second vanishing act. [ Amusement spreads like wildfire across J's features as one hand raises to give a resounding snap of fingers. The small flame he creates is quick to illuminates every corner of J's expressive face, painting his lopsided smirk in a nearly macabre light. ]

Be a good boy and cover their retreat for me, Mako. [ Instructions the demon doesn't offer, but foists into Makoto's lap. It's just moments before the flame sputters out so that he can softly pat a youthful cheek with the touch of his warm palm. As if this solidifies their plan of action, the full span of his wings opens wide and J abruptly launches himself forward to dive off the roof. Not allowing Makoto the time to rebuke him for any potential flaws in this plan, or the chance to refuse a direct approach without a more complete survey of their surroundings.

And that's how he greets this wayward lamb, broken away from their flock. At first, he's little more than an ominous shadow that spreads out across the well-tended to streets of Venera, gliding over the head of a figure whose eyes aren't searching the skies in anticipation of a strike from above. A second snap of his fingers, this time at a closer range to his target, sends forth a much smaller sphere of light than he's accustomed to. It strikes the pavement several feet behind Barnaby and settles a path of fire there with every intention of blocking off his retreat. ]

[hundredpower]

[The first sign something is amiss is that shadow, which has Barnaby instinctively look for a doorway he can duck into, to wait until it passes if someone or something is patrolling overhead. He doesn't have the luxury of time or a nearby hiding place, however, and moments later he feels the sudden burst of heat behind him, a burning wall stopping him from turning and bolting. If he had his powers, or even his suit, he could just leap over it or even run through it without issue, yet now it's an insurmountable obstacle.

But where had it come from? He looks up, and that winged silhouette against the sky, the paws, the tail -- all of it can only belong to one person.

Of course it would be J.

The thought lodges like a cold dagger in the chest (had he been following him all along? Did he even know who he was attacking, or was this just some sick coincidence?), along with the sinking realisation there's little he can do to fight back. J could simply burn him alive now and be done with it, and given how their last conversation had gone, he suspects he just might, if it were the most expedient way to bring him back into the fold.

With that in mind, he doesn't have much left to lose. He breaks into a sprint, ahead and away from the flames, his hood falling back. If his brief glance at the sky and the gleam of his glasses in the dark wasn't enough of a giveaway, there's no hiding the identity of the Untouched runaway now.]

cw vore mention...

[affal]

( really, they could fight like cats and dogs until time rounded and folded in on itself. he pauses and pivots on one heel to shoot his master a look that could kill, though he doesn't riposte besides a muttered complaint along the lines of, "well of course it barely matters now," considering most of the city has shut its doors to the actions of achamoth happening outside regardless. apart from that, he decides to pick and choose his battles, holding his tongue to keep himself from saying that he might have preferred get a few extra hours of sleep considering he was still recovering from an arrow near the size of a javelin piercing through his shoulder. the bolt had been removed and the wounds sufficiently stitched, so he's on the mend far quicker than a human might have been, but he was still wary of pushing himself to the point of detriment. he's of no use if he's falling apart.

he continues to seethe in narrow-eyed silence, though with a significant ruddier expression after the trailing touch of J's forefinger that marks a path right beneath the line of his jaw. in the end, he summarizes his irritation fairly simply. )

If you keep wagging your tongue like that, I'll tear it out and make it into one.

( grumpy. but perhaps he is just the tiniest bit hangry.

but whatever further hijinks or possible violence their morning might have otherwise strayed into is wiped clear, because it's after this that makoto spots barnaby as he makes his hopeful, shrouded escape. standing on the rooftop and perched at the threshold of a potential altercation, he is more aware than before of his injuries, still on the mend. they are both fortunate, then, that the stranger would be relatively powerless without either the Pleroma or the Kenoma to anchor them. it should be simple enough for them to close in on the traitor like the two jaws of a trap, though too much confidence might allow their quarry just enough leeway to wriggle free...

sure enough, an argument begins to lift from the back of his throat, but J is gone before he has a chance to voice it. his vehemence leaves him in a heaved sigh, and he pauses for a moment to watch, tracking J's figure in the sky and observing the stranger's reaction to both his appearance and the flames that now block his path. it's just when barnaby begins to run in the opposite direction that makoto draws a Doorway and teleports several feet in front of him, drawing a long dagger from a sheath on his thigh and brandishing it directly at the man's chest as he bears closer. on either side of him, huge draconic wings flare out, talons bared, to block his path.

he recognizes him instantly. ) Well, if it isn't Barnaby. Color me surprised.

( his tone of voice reading that he obviously isn't. after seeing how his priorities had aligned their last time they were here, of course he would break before bending in this instance. )

[tohell]

[ When Barnaby casts his gaze into a sky J now occupies, the creature he seeks to identify does the very same with its target. Eyewear wasn't a common accessory among the various Aions he'd purposefully taken note of, when the lot of them had been crowded into the Regent's metaphysical courtroom. And without ties to either the Pleroma or the Kenoma, there's no chance of a glamour at play to disguise the stranger's identity. Fair hair and glasses give Barnaby away, but there's hardly much surprise in this reveal. After their final terse discussion and a clear dissolution of their partnership, J had more than a hunch a certain Bunny might be hopping along on its way out of the city.

It's just as well that J and his ward are the ones to find him. The demon has a tendency towards growing possessive of those who come under his wing. J doesn't care to consider how readily his fellow Kenoma might bring about the destruction of Barnaby's shard, should they be the ones to face a man who'd likely choose death over surrendering and face what comes with betraying the Kenoma.

Not that J's ward is an exception, when vicious intent is the very fuel that drives his compulsions. Made clear when Makoto does his utmost to impale Barnaby with his own momentum upon the slim blade aimed at a dangerous location. J had felt where Barnaby's shard was amid the pair's joint Innocence infection, when their forces had first set foot in Venera. And then reconfirmed its position later during that quaint little beach trip. There wasn't much done in the way of hiding that pink oval, fittingly positioned like a second heart atop his chest.

With his severely injured ward positioned for a direct facing off, and Barnaby throwing himself precisely into harm's way, there's only a bad end to this scenario. Makoto surely won't die no matter how they collide, but he is more cautious with Makoto's well-being when immortality is hinged on a shard that can be fragile as glass when dislodged. As for Barnaby, J isn't about to stand idly by as he rushes to his death, physical or spiritual, depending on how the blade lands.

Outstretched wings dip inward to fold, plunging their owner from the altitude he'd been circling at to monitor the deteriorating situation. He has a slim window of opportunity to intervene, but takes it just the same. J risks getting caught in the crosshairs by using his own body to sweep in from Barnaby's right side and knock the traitor out of the way. The demon's feet are his least vulnerable point, and best suited to absorb the brunt of the impact without causing himself an inconvenient injury in the process. Sadly, J doesn't heal with the expedience he used to.

Upon his nearing descent, J's lower limbs swing forward as wings flare to slow his speed. If there was an added kick in the delivery of J's attack, such a forceful blow could potentially fracture bone and puncture organs. A messy situation he's never shied away from before, but there's no measured hand to orchestrate the extent or location of those wounds, nor any reassurance they won't turn fatal. Dissipating Barnaby and in turn reducing him to a shard may not be met with approval, if the Regent is anything like J is when it comes to what's his and people touching his possessions.

He stays his hand, so to speak, such that the impact to Barnaby's side can be absorbed partly by powerful legs that flex inward to buffer the contact. Should the assault land as he plans, J won't have time to dodge any swipe of Makoto's knife or any defensive maneuver his former ally may pull. Even though Barnaby is presently stripped of all his powers, the man still has his fists and likely plenty of rage. ]

cw: suicidal ideation

[hundredpower]

[When Barnaby uses his Hundred Power, time seems to slow down to fractions of a second crawling by at a time, letting him dodge and weave through the most dangerous of attacks with ease. Without his powers, time slips through his fingers too quickly, and things happen in a succession too rapid for him to react to. Even with the honed instincts of a hero, he's painfully aware in those moments that he's just a normal person.

In this case, he finds himself in the latter situation. Barnaby's started by the sudden appearance of Makoto in front of him, wielding the knife, wings flared and closing off his escape. He doesn't have time to slow down or change course to consider the canal as his third option of escape, because demonic paws slam into his side with enough force to crash him into the nearest wall, momentarily stunning him. For once he's given a taste of the kind of blindside he'd inflicted on Majorita earlier in the week.

Although the worst of the impact was blocked by his arm, he realises as his vision swims back into focus that he'd struck his head, and he cradles it in one hand, momentarily dazed, as he staggers and glares at his assailants. Makoto and J-- but they aren't killing him, which means they either want to toy with him before they do so, or they intend to capture him.

He grits his teeth and reaches for his Shard, no longer darkened by the Kenoma, pulling it from his chest, trying to hide the way his hands are shaking from adrenaline and fury. At best, he can try to use what dregs of power he has left to reach Hayame via Communion. At worst, it will buy him some time, if only because they might hesitate to attack again, lest he drop his Shard and smash it. (At this point, wouldn't that be the best option?)]

Don't come any closer, either of you. [He glares at them, holding his Shard tight.]

[affal]

( a shame that the man stops himself from running into makoto's knife — it would have given the demon just enough plausible deniability in the act, given that he is running off of the assumption that traitors would be best returned to achamoth at the very least alive, so to cut down on the time spent and risks incurred by taking their shards back to their shrines for regeneration. he would certainly like to kill this man; he's engendered nothing in makoto to make him think that he's worth keeping around. an overly-soft heart, an over-developed sense of heroics and justice, an overt tendency to leap to justifications based upon paltry and petty things like morality. and that's not even to mention whatever fascination J has taken up with him — something that sets makoto's blood to a furious boil, causing the mercenary tides of his ire to rise dangerously high.

makoto sees in J's swooping attack a vague echo of his own mortal death, head severed with brutal efficiency from his neck in the single scything grasp of a clawed foot. barnaby keeps his head (a pity), but the force of the blow sending him into the nearby wall is enough to stun him for a moment. makoto's armed hand drops to his side, and he pauses, looking at their runaway traitor with all of calculating appraisal that he regards his attackers with.

this demon doesn't seem impressed with his self-sacrificial posturing. does he really think makoto cares if he lives or dies here? the only thing that's keeping him from throwing his blade into the meat of the man's arm and forcing him to go through with dropping it on his own was that it would be impossible to explain if his memories of the incident were scrutinized. )

Don't do anything more foolish than you already are, ( he says with derision from his words.

he doesn't look to J — he feels that he doesn't need to, and doing so would only compromise their cooperative efforts by giving them away. between them, makoto doesn't have the agility to deal with this situation, though if J attempted to accost barnaby and prevent him from moving, his ward could certainly teleport within range to try to swipe the shard, either from his hand or otherwise. )

[tohell]

[ J made a mental note of how the flames he applied earlier had been succussful in thoroughly barring Barnaby's path of retreat, to the point of nearly sending him running right into Makoto's blade. It seems that even in his haze of fury, he wouldn't foolishly attempt to bullheadedly charge through the scouring heat and fire without any abilities to aid in that escape. If those natural instincts can be tapped into again to divert his attention and hold him in place, J is more than willing to play the same card twice.

Barnaby's threats don't give his more hearty opposition pause or provide the desired expenditure of time he hopes for, when springing a surprise attack is a better option than dawdling to negotiate. Something J has never leaned towards. Abrupt, spontaneous and prone to violent retaliation, these tendencies reflect his chosen method of subduing the fleeing Untouched Aion now.

A burst of flame arises from a snap of fingers, snaking forward to roll onward not in a red-hot sphere of flame but a slithering coil. It darts ahead of Barnaby's path as it had before, but in this instance the winding spool of flame skates across the ground to circle behind him. Its intended goal is to draw Barnaby's attention to the potential threat licking at his heels and away from the pair of Kenoma attempting his capture.

Should Barnaby give the slightest pause the flames sputter out behind him, their purpose served in providing a necessary opening for J to attack. Just as Makoto predicts, the demon facilitates restraining their would-be deserter by swiftly launching himself forward to cross the distance without warning Barnaby of what's to come. In an attempt to knock him flat and pin his opponent to the ground, J aims for another sweeping kick of his pawed foot, this time at Barnaby's legs to take them out from under him.

In the event their escapee opts for a last ditch effort to foil their plans by taking the desperate measures of throwing his shard onto the ground, broad wings sweep forward to envelop the ex-Kenoma in a cocoon of feathers. Hopefully this will narrow his range of motion, so any attempt Barnaby makes to wind his arm back in order to throw his shard to the ground, or even struggle away, becomes considerably more difficult. If J's efforts are successful in restraining Barnaby's movements, then he doesn't doubt Makoto's teleportation skill will come in handy to speed up the search for a preciously fragile shard held hostage by J's wings. ]

[hundredpower]

[Barnaby can manage his pyrophobia at the best of times now, his hero career exposing him to it enough that he can dash into a burning building to save a civilian without any issues, beyond a manageably small feeling of fear. But in the circumstances -- without his suit, cornered, with his own life in his hand and teetering on the brink of death, it's all too easy for the fire licking at his heels to distract him, eyes wide in startled panic.

That's enough for J to pounce, sweeping his feet out from under him, and as he twists to throw his shard, the lingering smell of fire sears a simple, primal fear in his mind, of a child seeing everything he had ever known being burned away before him.

He doesn't want to die.

That brief hesitation costs him, as he's soon enfolded by J's wings, restricting his movement now matter how much he struggles. His hand closes tightly around his shard, the only proof he has left that he, his world, that the fire that day, that any of it ever existed, and he can't even save that from the claws of the Regent. He could scream in frustration.]

Why are you doing this? [It's all he manages to grate out instead.] The Regent will kill you both!

[Not now, but eventually, discarded like tools that have outlived their purpose, just as Horos will be when the time comes. Do they really think a so-called world free of corruption has any place for two demons?]

[affal]

( as soon as the coil of flame draws barnaby's attention, makoto tenses, muscles coiled and ready to spring. he doesn't move at the same time as J's aggressive lunge, but he does very soon afterward, once again blinking out of existence and reappearing at the side of the other demon, pale eyes fixating on where the imperiled shard was held in barnaby's hand, primed to throw even as the man falls towards the ground.

but he doesn't. feathers wrap around them both, temporarily separating them from makoto, but he doesn't see the stone fall through them and toward the ground, prompting his diving forward to save it. his convictions didn't persist all the way to the point of personal oblivion, then.

that might very well be the answer he's presently looking for. makoto has little interest or much use for the world the Regent plans of creating. this is the third world he'd passed through, tossed upon their shores like interplanar flotsam, and there's precious little he's seen in any of them to convince him that sound annihilation isn't the best outcome to pursue. there is a piece of his mind that is still stuck in that same mode he had been in when he had first summoned J: is it not best to find a moment of near-perfect satisfaction, and then cease to be? all the pain that paved the path there was therefore functionally worthwhile, and all of the pleasure a happy and welcomed accident.

a low scoff sounds in the back of his throat as he leans in and pushes away the curtain of feathers, reaching out to attempt to enclose his left hand around barnaby's wrist like a vice. no, the demon is not usually very strong, but the residual pain from his healing wounds is enough to make him feel at least a little more authoritative. somewhat contrarily, his voice is dry and dispassionate, ) Please, Barnaby. Don't embarrass yourself any further.

( just because he'd lost his faith in the cause — or, at the very least, what the cause could do for them — didn't mean that they had. makoto doesn't even want to favor the questions with a sincere response. instead he opens his right hand beneath barnaby's clenched fist, continuing in a low tone that brokers little argument, ) Hand it over.

( to makoto, this isn't up for debate. he clearly can't be trusted to hold onto it himself. )