[... don't play stupid with me now, boy. The memory echoes in Akechi's ears, along with countless others like it. A shiver passes through him, and the whites of his eyes show all around, as Sephiroth looks away. His fists, if anything, screw up tighter in his lap. Loki has risen up—his main persona, the part of him that wants to dominate, and kill, and keep on killing—like he always did, when Akechi was really on the spot. And usually, Akechi had smiled and nodded all the same, and kept on eating shit, when what he'd really wanted was to fuck whoever it was up beyond repair.
But the thing is that quite a lot of what Akechi was is now missing. He doesn't, right now, necessarily have what it takes to pull himself back in.
It's only the next moment that Akechi feels a much less powerful presence stand with him: his other persona, Robin Hood—louder, since he used it in the last months, but mainly silent for years because it doesn't like him killing. Calm down, now, and watch, and learn, and fight. That's who you were, that's what you could be again.
Another moment, and Akechi blinks, astonished, and he breathes, and his eyes reclaim a little of their normality. The next moment, there's more, as he builds the wall around him, shard by shard by shard. The mental impression is of a tiny, weak angel, and a vast, well-fed demon, sitting one on each of his shoulders. This guy is like Shido, like Shido, he's of a type with him, but he's not Shido. Who, even if he's still out there, even if—well, even if he's still out there—
He catches his breath quietly. By the time Sephiroth asks his question—possibly aware of the mental tumult beside him, or possibly not, but Akechi is certainly not emitting good vibes—Akechi can answer.]
A weapon? Truthfully, I don't know what I'd do with one. But I've always been curious about how they were made.
That's your work they're doing now, right? [It's hardly the immaculate polish Akechi showed the world in his heyday, but it's a step up from if this guy rests a single finger on me, my arm or my shoulder or anywhere else, I'll blind him before he kills me.]
cw violent thoughts
But the thing is that quite a lot of what Akechi was is now missing. He doesn't, right now, necessarily have what it takes to pull himself back in.
It's only the next moment that Akechi feels a much less powerful presence stand with him: his other persona, Robin Hood—louder, since he used it in the last months, but mainly silent for years because it doesn't like him killing. Calm down, now, and watch, and learn, and fight. That's who you were, that's what you could be again.
Another moment, and Akechi blinks, astonished, and he breathes, and his eyes reclaim a little of their normality. The next moment, there's more, as he builds the wall around him, shard by shard by shard. The mental impression is of a tiny, weak angel, and a vast, well-fed demon, sitting one on each of his shoulders. This guy is like Shido, like Shido, he's of a type with him, but he's not Shido. Who, even if he's still out there, even if—well, even if he's still out there—
He catches his breath quietly. By the time Sephiroth asks his question—possibly aware of the mental tumult beside him, or possibly not, but Akechi is certainly not emitting good vibes—Akechi can answer.]
A weapon? Truthfully, I don't know what I'd do with one. But I've always been curious about how they were made.
That's your work they're doing now, right? [It's hardly the immaculate polish Akechi showed the world in his heyday, but it's a step up from if this guy rests a single finger on me, my arm or my shoulder or anywhere else, I'll blind him before he kills me.]