There are some kernels of truth even in the lies that Akechi has told him over the months they've circled one another. How it felt to awaken to a mysterious power alone– and now, knowing that it happened twice at once– and with what Maruki has been able to piece together about how young he must have been–
It isn't pity that he feels toward Akechi. Not at all. Only a profound sense of gratitude. I'm glad you're here, even now, even after all that transpired as the sun set over Somnius.
Maruki takes his hand without a second thought, hauls up unsteadily to his feet.
Azathoth must have dissipated somewhere in their half-consciousness. Maruki takes stock of his own injuries, then Akechi's. Tries to call it forth again.
No luck.
That's new. Even after the battle against the Green Knight, he'd had no problem summoning Azathoth. Even before the spaghetti.
The difference is, he'd been in good shape then. Battered from the fight, but not as badly as now – death was never a tangible fear in his mind, guarded as he was by Azathoth – and then healed of his superficial wounds by Venat. Maruki looks down at the broken remnants of his glasses in his hand, remembers the delicate way she mended them for him before, slid them back onto his face with a smile like every star in the sky.
He closes his eyes, sighs through his nose. No Azathoth. No healing. It must have taken the very last of his spirit to save him from certain death and reverse only the worst of his injuries, because everything else remains.
The shards of glass embedded in Akechi's palm catch his eye, turn his stomach. ]
Let's get cleaned up.
[ A step toward the castle, two, three. Testing his strength. It's not like the morning they had to stagger out of the Enchanted Garden. In some ways, it's better; in others, much worse.
Maruki looks over at Akechi, more drained than he's ever seen him. ]
Lean on me if you need to.
[ Not that he expects Akechi to need to, or to accept the offer even if he does, but the state of him–
Maruki feels half-dead from what Akechi was able to do to him under that power. He can scarcely imagine how it must feel to be the one consumed by it. How it must feel to have two souls sprung forth from your own, whether they're cooperative or at war. How it must feel to have to maintain more masks on top of that. How it must feel to sleep little, eat little, work constantly, navigate the complex web of Masayoshi Shido on top of that. How completely depleted Akechi must be on a near constant basis, has been for years, still is even here.
It doesn't matter if Akechi needs it, actually. Maruki grips his arm with steadying force anyway, pulls him along. ]
no subject
There are some kernels of truth even in the lies that Akechi has told him over the months they've circled one another. How it felt to awaken to a mysterious power alone– and now, knowing that it happened twice at once– and with what Maruki has been able to piece together about how young he must have been–
It isn't pity that he feels toward Akechi. Not at all. Only a profound sense of gratitude. I'm glad you're here, even now, even after all that transpired as the sun set over Somnius.
Maruki takes his hand without a second thought, hauls up unsteadily to his feet.
Azathoth must have dissipated somewhere in their half-consciousness. Maruki takes stock of his own injuries, then Akechi's. Tries to call it forth again.
No luck.
That's new. Even after the battle against the Green Knight, he'd had no problem summoning Azathoth. Even before the spaghetti.
The difference is, he'd been in good shape then. Battered from the fight, but not as badly as now – death was never a tangible fear in his mind, guarded as he was by Azathoth – and then healed of his superficial wounds by Venat. Maruki looks down at the broken remnants of his glasses in his hand, remembers the delicate way she mended them for him before, slid them back onto his face with a smile like every star in the sky.
He closes his eyes, sighs through his nose. No Azathoth. No healing. It must have taken the very last of his spirit to save him from certain death and reverse only the worst of his injuries, because everything else remains.
The shards of glass embedded in Akechi's palm catch his eye, turn his stomach. ]
Let's get cleaned up.
[ A step toward the castle, two, three. Testing his strength. It's not like the morning they had to stagger out of the Enchanted Garden. In some ways, it's better; in others, much worse.
Maruki looks over at Akechi, more drained than he's ever seen him. ]
Lean on me if you need to.
[ Not that he expects Akechi to need to, or to accept the offer even if he does, but the state of him–
Maruki feels half-dead from what Akechi was able to do to him under that power. He can scarcely imagine how it must feel to be the one consumed by it. How it must feel to have two souls sprung forth from your own, whether they're cooperative or at war. How it must feel to have to maintain more masks on top of that. How it must feel to sleep little, eat little, work constantly, navigate the complex web of Masayoshi Shido on top of that. How completely depleted Akechi must be on a near constant basis, has been for years, still is even here.
It doesn't matter if Akechi needs it, actually. Maruki grips his arm with steadying force anyway, pulls him along. ]