[ This world is beyond his scope and every second in its depths is a new experience to unravel later.
He isn't powerful here. Isn't in charge. Is only allowed as far as a 'key' will take him through its bizarre portals in Metaverse and reality. A long nosed man remains blaise to the side, an 'attendant' knows his duty like he was born for it. Akechi is at a perpetual disadvantage. He steps in this place pretending like he isn't.
But this startles him. It may show on his face for the one, two, three seconds he registers Azathoth.
That fits the bill, doesn't it? and a surge of-
Something flows through him - choking, agonizing, infuriating.
But this version Maruki is always three steps ahead. Akechi won't let him take a fourth by seeing him falter. ]
It does. [ Tension pulls his voice - he clears his throat. ] Though I can't say I'm eager to manifest it nor willing.
[ It belongs to someone else. Might be proof Maruki's will is lost forever or stuck in a limbo behind this copy's facade. ]
[ A glance toward Igor, watching them blithely. He can't, can he? He does know he's meant to battle Akechi one day, the ultimate test of his prowess as a wildcard, and that he'll need to begin practicing with those strongest personas from this book soon–
But he hasn't yet. Doesn't know how. ]
I don't think I can do that without you.
[ It comes out softer, more honest than he expected it to sound. Something else drives that vulnerable confession. ]
[ Another glance to Igor, then down at the page of the book; all it says still is blind idiot god. And yet–
He knows Akechi is right. Knows it deep down into his soul, formed out of nothing but starlight with no other purpose than to guide the irate boy next to him. The persona's name is Azathoth.
How does Akechi know that, if he hasn't made use of it himself?
His head aches, a foreign sensation for someone not human enough to feel pain; one hand flies up to clutch at the back of his neck, wincing as his temples throb. ]
I... well, I suppose I can try...
[ Is it about will power?
It is for Akechi. For the other one he's only heard spoken of in whispers, a jail cell he's not allowed to see.
Why shouldn't it be that way for him, too?
What drives him? Akechi Goro, of course. Doing right by him, helping him, trying to gentle him into a bond so he can follow him out into the true reality and learn more about him – so when Azathoth does appear in the garden, aurora falling around it in gentle waves, Maruki doesn't see it.
He's only staring at Akechi, concentrating entirely on him, drawing up every ounce of his own resolve for this boy in hopes it could manifest a god on its own. ]
[ Akechi Goro doesn't feel pity. People make decisions that lead them down the right roads, the wrong ones. They suffer. They survive. There's no sense in sparing an ounce of sympathy to anyone. It won't matter.
But there's an ache in his gut he can only attribute to Maruki Takuto. It formed in the corner of a dark room full of ailing people staring at a single framed photo covered in incense smoke. None of them knew him. None of them knew him. No one would ever know the power he held, how pathetic it was he let it slip from his fingers because of an-
Accident.
An accident. Maruki is dead and he can't summon Azathoth. Nothing forms. Akechi doesn't feel pity. He feels nothing-
He feels something.
It burns behind his eyes, sparks in his chest - it speaks.
It forms.
Maruki can't summon it, but Akechi can feel it yearning against the base of his neck. Akechi wants to see Azathoth.
Akechi wants to see Maruki summon Azathoth.
Maruki cannot summon Azathoth and-
It's a split second, and he welcomes the memory into his heart.
The looming tentacled form that appears behind Akechi like it belongs in his soul, not the man next to him-
Infuriates. His expression twists - it should be a good thing. It's not a good thing. It's a terrible thing. It's worse. It's awful. It's disgusting - it's disgusting. ]
I hate you. [ It comes out - spews out. It sputters out of his lips as the tentacle of healing reaches past him, towards its original owner.
Akechi can't stand it. He doesn't look. He doesn't look. ]
[ It should hurt to hear that the boy he was brought into reality to oversee and understand hates him, shouldn't it? It should hurt, but–
As Maruki stares in awe at the towering golden figure that's appeared behind him, the words only wash over him like a familiar comfort. He reaches out, a hand extended to that clawed tentacle, fingers brushing gently against pulsing neon.
Soft, eyes still on Azathoth: ]
I know.
[ There's so little that Maruki knows, and what little there is only exists here in the Velvet Room.
But he knows, down to the depths of his soul constructed from nothing more than flickering blue flames, that Akechi Goro hates him.
And he smiles, gaze drifting back down to land on his wildcard. ]
It's a tactical retreat to assess. Reevaluate. He says nothing as contact is made between rightful owner and the new power in his heart. Says nothing as Maruki could never hate Akechi because it's wrong. The words are wrong. The voice is wrong. The outfit is wrong and it's all wrong.
He needs to think.
He needs to think.
He spends two days languishing on an empty living floor to think. There's a flurry in his chest that makes him nauseous. It's not Loki. It's not Robin Hood. They're there, and they're not. Useless as fucking ever in the wake of this new situation.
It makes him want to puke. Of course he can't think and-
Maruki is waiting outside of a brilliant blue door, steps away from Jazz Jin when Akechi sees him next. A week later, two - he can't say. He's been back to Mementos - ignored him in that subway station. He's fought and fought and fought until Azathoth-
Akechi was run ragged. Azathoth's stamina is limitless. He doesn't understand how Maruki could wield it.
But now it's him, an invisible door and a man holding a book that's become the bane of Akechi's existence.
He watches, waits like a predator poised to attack and- ]
You wanted to visit this place, didn't you? Lets go.
[ It's a disappointment when Akechi leaves, of course it is, but it's a thrill as well– Igor tells him that now that he's finally (finally) accepted another persona into his heart, Maruki can venture outside the door. Not far, just enough to be able to watch, to try to catch Akechi's attention as he moves like a ghost through Kichijoji, as he stalks furiously through Mementos.
It doesn't work, of course, but–
It's enough. It has to be enough, because it may be all he ever gets. He ď̴̼̺̫͜ȏ̶͚̟̻̞̥̇̈ë̸̛̤́̋̃̕s̴̢̤̰͖͎̅͑͐͠ñ̴̨͉̻͔̲̅'̶̧̤̘͕͔͛̾̍͋̄t̸͔̗͛̄̓̕͝ ̵̞͕̠̗̠̊̋͐͝w̷̧̢̥̎a̶̛͇̿ͅn̶͎̩͍͚̂́̅̅ṭ̵̘̍ ̸̩̩͍̼̻̑̇̋͌̾ḁ̴̧̳̌n̵̯̺̾̈́͒y̵̺̟̝̻̽t̸̠͒́ḥ̵̌̂͜͠î̴̛͕͝n̸͕͕͕̾͆̆̍́g̶̻̰̼̘̬͛͆̂ ̸̛̮̹̈́̀̚f̸̱̲̹̗͈͑̕r̷͍̃͛̂o̷̖̠͋̍m̷̟͔͍̖̭͊͂͗ ̷̯̖̬͈̪̑̈́͘A̸̲̩̻͊̓͑̏k̸͖͖͓̥̱̀̑̑̈ẻ̴͍̤͔͓͐͝͠c̷̟̫͓͍̃̓̎͠h̴͎̼̳̟͚͆į̵̮̝͉̘̎̇͋.̶̖͐̿͑̉͝ It's enough just to see him moving about the world, still living, still breathing, still defiant in walking his own path.
The world outside the Velvet Room is incredible. It's so beautiful, everyone in it is so fascinating, and as he lingers in the streets of Kichijoji he listens to all their passing conversations. He starts making a list within his book of things he'd like Akechi to bring him, places he'd like to visit, experiences he'd like to have. Takoyaki sounds delicious, and he wants to try it. A bathhouse sounds relaxing, and he wants to try it. Playing darts sounds thrilling, and he wants to try it.
Only with Akechi at his side. It's the only way he can, but even if he could go off on his own– he can't imagine wanting to.
The list grows and grows until the day Akechi finally acknowledges him, and his idle relaxed stance straightens, face lighting up brighter than the glow that emanates from the door. ]
Really? You'll take me? I accept!
[ He's free.
He's free, so long as he stays at Akechi's side. ]
[ The educated assumption bears expected results - this Maruki leaps at the opportunity to join him in Jazz Jin depths.
It's an insult to see this copy waltz through the stone doorway, down the same steps Maruki used to. He ignores any chatter, the presence of another behind.
But he stops short of walking through the door. A realization slamming into him like ice cold air after resting in a warm room.
Muhen will recognize him. The regular employees too. Maruki joined him here on more than one occasion and the uncanny resemblance will turn heads.
Akechi can't stand to look behind, but he glances over his shoulder anyway. ]
You can't go in like that. Disguise yourself, hide yourself - I don't care what you do. Change your appearance.
[ The book has disappeared, for the moment. It leaves both hands free to pat the rich blue fabric of his suit, searching empty pockets for– who knows what?
He's never had to change his appearance before. He's never had the option at all. He came into being exactly as he is now, and when he searches his wildcard for answers, none appear. ]
I don't have– ah! Wait!
[ Glasses slipped off and tucked into his pocket, eyesight blurred, he sees Akechi as nothing but a mass of colors and vague shapes. It gives him an idea. ]
Could we trade coats? And– could I wear your scarf?
[ A beat, and then he hastily runs both hands through his hair, pushing it all back off his forehead for a moment before it stubbornly flops back into place. Well, he tried. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He isn't powerful here. Isn't in charge. Is only allowed as far as a 'key' will take him through its bizarre portals in Metaverse and reality. A long nosed man remains blaise to the side, an 'attendant' knows his duty like he was born for it. Akechi is at a perpetual disadvantage. He steps in this place pretending like he isn't.
But this startles him. It may show on his face for the one, two, three seconds he registers Azathoth.
That fits the bill, doesn't it? and a surge of-
Something flows through him - choking, agonizing, infuriating.
But this version Maruki is always three steps ahead. Akechi won't let him take a fourth by seeing him falter. ]
It does. [ Tension pulls his voice - he clears his throat. ] Though I can't say I'm eager to manifest it nor willing.
[ It belongs to someone else. Might be proof Maruki's will is lost forever or stuck in a limbo behind this copy's facade. ]
Summon it yourself.
no subject
Summon it... myself?
[ A glance toward Igor, watching them blithely. He can't, can he? He does know he's meant to battle Akechi one day, the ultimate test of his prowess as a wildcard, and that he'll need to begin practicing with those strongest personas from this book soon–
But he hasn't yet. Doesn't know how. ]
I don't think I can do that without you.
[ It comes out softer, more honest than he expected it to sound. Something else drives that vulnerable confession. ]
no subject
[ Rough, bitter - he hates that word. He hates that word. ]
Then your will should be powerful enough to do such a simple thing.
[ That persona should not exist. That persona shouldn't be here. That persona only belongs to one man. ]
Summon Azathoth.
no subject
[ Another glance to Igor, then down at the page of the book; all it says still is blind idiot god. And yet–
He knows Akechi is right. Knows it deep down into his soul, formed out of nothing but starlight with no other purpose than to guide the irate boy next to him. The persona's name is Azathoth.
How does Akechi know that, if he hasn't made use of it himself?
His head aches, a foreign sensation for someone not human enough to feel pain; one hand flies up to clutch at the back of his neck, wincing as his temples throb. ]
I... well, I suppose I can try...
[ Is it about will power?
It is for Akechi. For the other one he's only heard spoken of in whispers, a jail cell he's not allowed to see.
Why shouldn't it be that way for him, too?
What drives him? Akechi Goro, of course. Doing right by him, helping him, trying to gentle him into a bond so he can follow him out into the true reality and learn more about him – so when Azathoth does appear in the garden, aurora falling around it in gentle waves, Maruki doesn't see it.
He's only staring at Akechi, concentrating entirely on him, drawing up every ounce of his own resolve for this boy in hopes it could manifest a god on its own. ]
no subject
But there's an ache in his gut he can only attribute to Maruki Takuto. It formed in the corner of a dark room full of ailing people staring at a single framed photo covered in incense smoke. None of them knew him. None of them knew him. No one would ever know the power he held, how pathetic it was he let it slip from his fingers because of an-
Accident.
An accident. Maruki is dead and he can't summon Azathoth. Nothing forms. Akechi doesn't feel pity. He feels nothing-
He feels something.
It burns behind his eyes, sparks in his chest - it speaks.
It forms.
Maruki can't summon it, but Akechi can feel it yearning against the base of his neck. Akechi wants to see Azathoth.
Akechi wants to see Maruki summon Azathoth.
Maruki cannot summon Azathoth and-
It's a split second, and he welcomes the memory into his heart.
The looming tentacled form that appears behind Akechi like it belongs in his soul, not the man next to him-
Infuriates. His expression twists - it should be a good thing. It's not a good thing. It's a terrible thing. It's worse. It's awful. It's disgusting - it's disgusting. ]
I hate you. [ It comes out - spews out. It sputters out of his lips as the tentacle of healing reaches past him, towards its original owner.
Akechi can't stand it. He doesn't look. He doesn't look. ]
I hate you, Maruki.
no subject
As Maruki stares in awe at the towering golden figure that's appeared behind him, the words only wash over him like a familiar comfort. He reaches out, a hand extended to that clawed tentacle, fingers brushing gently against pulsing neon.
Soft, eyes still on Azathoth: ]
I know.
[ There's so little that Maruki knows, and what little there is only exists here in the Velvet Room.
But he knows, down to the depths of his soul constructed from nothing more than flickering blue flames, that Akechi Goro hates him.
And he smiles, gaze drifting back down to land on his wildcard. ]
I could never hate you, Akechi.
no subject
It's a tactical retreat to assess. Reevaluate. He says nothing as contact is made between rightful owner and the new power in his heart. Says nothing as Maruki could never hate Akechi because it's wrong. The words are wrong. The voice is wrong. The outfit is wrong and it's all wrong.
He needs to think.
He needs to think.
He spends two days languishing on an empty living floor to think. There's a flurry in his chest that makes him nauseous. It's not Loki. It's not Robin Hood. They're there, and they're not. Useless as fucking ever in the wake of this new situation.
It makes him want to puke. Of course he can't think and-
Maruki is waiting outside of a brilliant blue door, steps away from Jazz Jin when Akechi sees him next. A week later, two - he can't say. He's been back to Mementos - ignored him in that subway station. He's fought and fought and fought until Azathoth-
Akechi was run ragged. Azathoth's stamina is limitless. He doesn't understand how Maruki could wield it.
But now it's him, an invisible door and a man holding a book that's become the bane of Akechi's existence.
He watches, waits like a predator poised to attack and- ]
You wanted to visit this place, didn't you? Lets go.
no subject
It doesn't work, of course, but–
It's enough. It has to be enough, because it may be all he ever gets. He ď̴̼̺̫͜ȏ̶͚̟̻̞̥̇̈ë̸̛̤́̋̃̕s̴̢̤̰͖͎̅͑͐͠ñ̴̨͉̻͔̲̅'̶̧̤̘͕͔͛̾̍͋̄t̸͔̗͛̄̓̕͝ ̵̞͕̠̗̠̊̋͐͝w̷̧̢̥̎a̶̛͇̿ͅn̶͎̩͍͚̂́̅̅ṭ̵̘̍ ̸̩̩͍̼̻̑̇̋͌̾ḁ̴̧̳̌n̵̯̺̾̈́͒y̵̺̟̝̻̽t̸̠͒́ḥ̵̌̂͜͠î̴̛͕͝n̸͕͕͕̾͆̆̍́g̶̻̰̼̘̬͛͆̂ ̸̛̮̹̈́̀̚f̸̱̲̹̗͈͑̕r̷͍̃͛̂o̷̖̠͋̍m̷̟͔͍̖̭͊͂͗ ̷̯̖̬͈̪̑̈́͘A̸̲̩̻͊̓͑̏k̸͖͖͓̥̱̀̑̑̈ẻ̴͍̤͔͓͐͝͠c̷̟̫͓͍̃̓̎͠h̴͎̼̳̟͚͆į̵̮̝͉̘̎̇͋.̶̖͐̿͑̉͝ It's enough just to see him moving about the world, still living, still breathing, still defiant in walking his own path.
The world outside the Velvet Room is incredible. It's so beautiful, everyone in it is so fascinating, and as he lingers in the streets of Kichijoji he listens to all their passing conversations. He starts making a list within his book of things he'd like Akechi to bring him, places he'd like to visit, experiences he'd like to have. Takoyaki sounds delicious, and he wants to try it. A bathhouse sounds relaxing, and he wants to try it. Playing darts sounds thrilling, and he wants to try it.
Only with Akechi at his side. It's the only way he can, but even if he could go off on his own– he can't imagine wanting to.
The list grows and grows until the day Akechi finally acknowledges him, and his idle relaxed stance straightens, face lighting up brighter than the glow that emanates from the door. ]
Really? You'll take me? I accept!
[ He's free.
He's free, so long as he stays at Akechi's side. ]
no subject
It's an insult to see this copy waltz through the stone doorway, down the same steps Maruki used to. He ignores any chatter, the presence of another behind.
But he stops short of walking through the door. A realization slamming into him like ice cold air after resting in a warm room.
Muhen will recognize him. The regular employees too. Maruki joined him here on more than one occasion and the uncanny resemblance will turn heads.
Akechi can't stand to look behind, but he glances over his shoulder anyway. ]
You can't go in like that. Disguise yourself, hide yourself - I don't care what you do. Change your appearance.
no subject
Disguise myself...?
[ The book has disappeared, for the moment. It leaves both hands free to pat the rich blue fabric of his suit, searching empty pockets for– who knows what?
He's never had to change his appearance before. He's never had the option at all. He came into being exactly as he is now, and when he searches his wildcard for answers, none appear. ]
I don't have– ah! Wait!
[ Glasses slipped off and tucked into his pocket, eyesight blurred, he sees Akechi as nothing but a mass of colors and vague shapes. It gives him an idea. ]
Could we trade coats? And– could I wear your scarf?
[ A beat, and then he hastily runs both hands through his hair, pushing it all back off his forehead for a moment before it stubbornly flops back into place. Well, he tried. ]
That might be as much as we can manage.