( there is the sound of beating wings that heralds makoto's approach. with the entire city of achamoth a flurry of activity like an anthill upturned, he often finds himself flying up to the various rooftops, towers, and spires, scanning the streets below and the walls beyond and the horizon atop all of that, as if hoping that the effort might grant him some sort of added insight into what the key might be to their future defense. as of yet, he hasn't found that slice of divine inspiration he's been looking for, but it's to no great consequence. it appears that the Regent has a plan of their own, and it's deeply embedded into makoto's nature by this point to trust in that implicitly.
they must leave the achamites to their preparations, and they must make their own as well. which is what he has to assume ciel is doing, perched up here on the battlement of this gothic tower, working on a hulk of metal machinery that looks very well near as tall as she is.
he lands alongside her with the faint, leathery sound of his draconic wings folding. he doesn't necessarily put them away just yet, however; as he crouches down to sit a short distance away from her, those additional limbs maneuver to give him additional balance, long, spindly, taloned "fingers" grasping the wrought stone.
he has certainly seen ciel fight, and they've likely trained and sparred together before, but even if that's the case, he has gotten the sense up until this point that she was merely molding her own talents to best suit whomever she was opposing. it's an interesting insight to see what it is she would actually wield, when the hammer finally struck iron. ) Miss Ciel, ( he greets, cordial. ) That's a fascinating weapon. I can't say I've ever seen anything of its like before.
🔴 closed: ciel
( there is the sound of beating wings that heralds makoto's approach. with the entire city of achamoth a flurry of activity like an anthill upturned, he often finds himself flying up to the various rooftops, towers, and spires, scanning the streets below and the walls beyond and the horizon atop all of that, as if hoping that the effort might grant him some sort of added insight into what the key might be to their future defense. as of yet, he hasn't found that slice of divine inspiration he's been looking for, but it's to no great consequence. it appears that the Regent has a plan of their own, and it's deeply embedded into makoto's nature by this point to trust in that implicitly.
they must leave the achamites to their preparations, and they must make their own as well. which is what he has to assume ciel is doing, perched up here on the battlement of this gothic tower, working on a hulk of metal machinery that looks very well near as tall as she is.
he lands alongside her with the faint, leathery sound of his draconic wings folding. he doesn't necessarily put them away just yet, however; as he crouches down to sit a short distance away from her, those additional limbs maneuver to give him additional balance, long, spindly, taloned "fingers" grasping the wrought stone.
he has certainly seen ciel fight, and they've likely trained and sparred together before, but even if that's the case, he has gotten the sense up until this point that she was merely molding her own talents to best suit whomever she was opposing. it's an interesting insight to see what it is she would actually wield, when the hammer finally struck iron. ) Miss Ciel, ( he greets, cordial. ) That's a fascinating weapon. I can't say I've ever seen anything of its like before.