( as far as makoto has been able to tell, the mechanics of the resort are a confused tangle of machine and magic, combined and intertwined in such a way that the two are practically indistinguishable at this point. there is logic to it; even the most whimsical things here don’t seem to actually occur based on something as inconcrete as whim. as for makoto, he doesn’t feel any particular impetus to try to tear back the curtain and try to puzzle out from the schematics how this place works—or, at least, not yet, anyway. he’s still under the impression that he can get something out of playing along according to the rules. should that suddenly become less of a viable option, he might start to consider more dramatic alternatives. his first choice would be to work with what is already established, as it’s always easier than trying to tear something down and start again. were he still in hell, he’d only face a fate worse than death if he stubbornly refused to play according to demons’ rules—both here and there, it seems as though you either sink or swim.
for all his myriad faults and inherent weaknesses, makoto isn’t the type to give up. he swims, fighting back even when there isn’t a chance in hell he could manage to do anything about it. what some might call foolishness is perhaps his only supernal trait: undying, tenacious determination.
anyways. makoto is just a little bitter about this new little feature of the gardens, even as he enjoys it however he can—that’s just because his room in the basement of the resort has basically flooded on account of it, requiring him to stay with others elsewhere. it’s not his preference. he’s the fiercely independent type. he’s also never been particularly sporting, so he’s the wrong audience to find any of bakugou’s surfing or antics with the board impressive or interesting. he’s more curious in the other teenager, though… honestly, the more he looks at him, the more he starts to get a bad feeling. when he had been human and alive, he… hadn’t had great experiences with the other students at school. even before the other young man replies to him, he’s getting the sense that perhaps he should have been more cautious—opening himself up to further youthful bullying is not something he’d like to do, at any point. he’d honestly prefer to field the attentions of a lecherous demon over those of a schoolyard bully any day.
but! maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. maybe that’s not even a concern.
he shrugs. ) Even if not, you have a very… interesting way of flying. ( as one gets closer, they might find that makoto’s strange eyes aren’t the weirdest thing about him—besides the deathly pallor to his skin, the most shocking thing tends to be the fact that his head appears to be sewn onto his body. he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees in the shallow surf as he asks, ) Did you see anything interesting out there?
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for all his myriad faults and inherent weaknesses, makoto isn’t the type to give up. he swims, fighting back even when there isn’t a chance in hell he could manage to do anything about it. what some might call foolishness is perhaps his only supernal trait: undying, tenacious determination.
anyways. makoto is just a little bitter about this new little feature of the gardens, even as he enjoys it however he can—that’s just because his room in the basement of the resort has basically flooded on account of it, requiring him to stay with others elsewhere. it’s not his preference. he’s the fiercely independent type. he’s also never been particularly sporting, so he’s the wrong audience to find any of bakugou’s surfing or antics with the board impressive or interesting. he’s more curious in the other teenager, though… honestly, the more he looks at him, the more he starts to get a bad feeling. when he had been human and alive, he… hadn’t had great experiences with the other students at school. even before the other young man replies to him, he’s getting the sense that perhaps he should have been more cautious—opening himself up to further youthful bullying is not something he’d like to do, at any point. he’d honestly prefer to field the attentions of a lecherous demon over those of a schoolyard bully any day.
but! maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. maybe that’s not even a concern.
he shrugs. ) Even if not, you have a very… interesting way of flying. ( as one gets closer, they might find that makoto’s strange eyes aren’t the weirdest thing about him—besides the deathly pallor to his skin, the most shocking thing tends to be the fact that his head appears to be sewn onto his body. he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees in the shallow surf as he asks, ) Did you see anything interesting out there?