[ if he's honest, kamui still isn't sure what to make of yuuto. on top of that, he's not sure what to make of this place in general. the push of voices, of feelings, the murmur. an undercurrent wholly unlike the one he experiences in a doomed tokyo. and yet. it reminds him of it. not just the city aspect but its utter ruin. dreams. nightmares. the unending song of something lost.
covering his mouth as he coughs, waiting, kamui waits for the fit to pass before slowly lowering it. blood, at this point, he expects, and without thinking about it...he licks it back up. cleaning himself. he only realizes what he's doing after it's done, feels a bit sick about it, then tells himself to be calm. at this point he's shifted between the body he knows and the 'new' one that's also him, and been caught in-between enough to recognize it's due to that.
sighing, his head jerks up at the sound of the other's voice, startled. he can hear much better than he normally could before, so it's abnormal at this point to be surprised like that, except for when he's spacing out. but this latter seems to happen a lot lately. he lowers his head briefly in responding and equal respect, mostly because it feels weird not to at least try, even if a subconscious part of him remains on edge. ]
You don't have to thank me for it...if I didn't want to, I wouldn't have.
[ and that's that, sort of. cat. adolescent. whatever. messiah or no. failed messiah. not here anyway. a moot point. but it wears kamui like some kind of inextricable soul-shadow. the idea of what he has to return back to convoluted by what is known here, and what isn't. he tilts his head, waiting for yuuto to further explain or say something, absently rubbing the remnant pink off of his palm on his thankfully black pants. ]
no subject
covering his mouth as he coughs, waiting, kamui waits for the fit to pass before slowly lowering it. blood, at this point, he expects, and without thinking about it...he licks it back up. cleaning himself. he only realizes what he's doing after it's done, feels a bit sick about it, then tells himself to be calm. at this point he's shifted between the body he knows and the 'new' one that's also him, and been caught in-between enough to recognize it's due to that.
sighing, his head jerks up at the sound of the other's voice, startled. he can hear much better than he normally could before, so it's abnormal at this point to be surprised like that, except for when he's spacing out. but this latter seems to happen a lot lately. he lowers his head briefly in responding and equal respect, mostly because it feels weird not to at least try, even if a subconscious part of him remains on edge. ]
You don't have to thank me for it...if I didn't want to, I wouldn't have.
[ and that's that, sort of. cat. adolescent. whatever. messiah or no. failed messiah. not here anyway. a moot point. but it wears kamui like some kind of inextricable soul-shadow. the idea of what he has to return back to convoluted by what is known here, and what isn't. he tilts his head, waiting for yuuto to further explain or say something, absently rubbing the remnant pink off of his palm on his thankfully black pants. ]