An inhuman tolerance for pain siphons away what little of it he notices, numbing the issue till it's forgotten, along with the slow-going knit of ravaged skin and bone that won't mend until sometime after the invading forces pack it up and leave. That way, J isn't hindered by either while drawing himself up into a fully seated position, to regard his ward plastered so close against his front, J might as well be holding onto him. Battered as they are, the tattered mass of his wings can shuffle around to prop him up even further, with their main joints braced like knuckles upon the ground at either side of him. Like this, there's some dignity to be found when he musters up a rebuke that turns Makoto's concerns around to aim them back in his direction. Words murmured quiet and low as J leans in to shore up the wreckage of a body that may recede from its adrenaline high at any moment. Drawn together this way, he can absorb and steady every tremble that shakes through Makoto's system until such a time as they might disburse.
"You only ever consider the consequences after the dust has cleared on some reckless gamble with your life." There is an edge of criticism in his assessment, as J ignores the prompting to move any further than he already has. Either too petty to budge until his point is made, or too immersed in his firm disapproval of Makoto's choice of attack. Such an assault might have easily rendered the Sanctifier's flesh his ward's coffin, had anything at all swung an unexpected wrench into Makoto's plans. Childe's finishing blow could have come much earlier, for one thing, and prevented this conversation or any reunion at all. And that's but one potential risk that was evaded by the skin of his teeth.
"Do you ever stop to think what might happen if you lose such a wager one day, and have to pay the piper with a piece of this?" The mutilated fingers of Makoto's left hand are gently coaxed away from J's cheek. Then ushered up to be relocated behind the nest of his ward's scattered hair, so that they might press against a shard J knows better than to touch on his own. Makoto is cagey enough about his sense of agency, and contact with someone's shard takes the invasion of personal boundaries to another level. In his time here, J has discovered that the owner of a manhandled shard derives little pleasure from the act. The crystal is hardly any sort of erogenous zone, but more reminiscent of a gaping wound that agonizes over the nearness of any potential foreign touch. So, steering them away from the risk of a meltdown as swords fly and dragons fall within earshot of where they currently are, J allows Makoto's fingers to settle where his would otherwise have drawn themselves, to emphasize the severity of his point.
[2/2]
"You only ever consider the consequences after the dust has cleared on some reckless gamble with your life." There is an edge of criticism in his assessment, as J ignores the prompting to move any further than he already has. Either too petty to budge until his point is made, or too immersed in his firm disapproval of Makoto's choice of attack. Such an assault might have easily rendered the Sanctifier's flesh his ward's coffin, had anything at all swung an unexpected wrench into Makoto's plans. Childe's finishing blow could have come much earlier, for one thing, and prevented this conversation or any reunion at all. And that's but one potential risk that was evaded by the skin of his teeth.
"Do you ever stop to think what might happen if you lose such a wager one day, and have to pay the piper with a piece of this?" The mutilated fingers of Makoto's left hand are gently coaxed away from J's cheek. Then ushered up to be relocated behind the nest of his ward's scattered hair, so that they might press against a shard J knows better than to touch on his own. Makoto is cagey enough about his sense of agency, and contact with someone's shard takes the invasion of personal boundaries to another level. In his time here, J has discovered that the owner of a manhandled shard derives little pleasure from the act. The crystal is hardly any sort of erogenous zone, but more reminiscent of a gaping wound that agonizes over the nearness of any potential foreign touch. So, steering them away from the risk of a meltdown as swords fly and dragons fall within earshot of where they currently are, J allows Makoto's fingers to settle where his would otherwise have drawn themselves, to emphasize the severity of his point.