( makoto has a slightly better insight than most into the nature of this place. when he’d first arrived here, he’d received a “gift”—a strange mirror that he hadn’t understood the purpose of until J, a previous winner of the House’s little game, had filled in some of the details for him. it was a hand-held window into the “other” golden peacock, though whether its word was a shadow to this one or it really was the world that they are in, and there’s just some grand illusion being played upon them to trick them otherwise… he can’t really say. but he has traveled to various places throughout the resort to test it, and he has occasionally seen exactly what he’d seen when he’d visited that “other” realm for himself: dishevelment, decay, dilapidation. these long-time “guests” of the resort, who had been there prior to him even arriving, little more than desiccated husks.
he hadn’t been sure whether he believed in gods, devils, or demons before he had successfully summoned one of the latter with a circle he’d drawn on his bedroom floor. he hadn’t been predisposed to—if there were any gods, they had seen fit to turn their backs on him, damning him for that which he couldn’t control. but now that he’s entered that supernatural world himself, becoming a demon in his own paltry right… he comes to realize that not everything in the world is a mechanism whose function and purpose can be clearly discovered from observation and experimentation. some things are more esoteric. magic is far more challenging to understand, and it’s rarely something that can be forced or strongarmed.
this place seems to be more of the latter than the former, in his eyes.
makoto definitely is sitting in the shade of an umbrella, though, ironically enough, if he weren’t actively thinking about how he might get burned, he probably wouldn’t—having a body that’s entirely based on self-conception is wild like that! not that he really understands that, having only been a demon for a few months. he leans forward a little to listen with interest as bakugou gives a short report on what he’d seen. he considers it, chin falling into one hand, thoughtful. )
The “space” of this place doesn’t always make sense.
( but that’s obvious enough once one spends enough time here. he keeps musing aloud, ) A wave machine, though… Maybe it has something to do with the maintenance levels beneath the basement floors. Connected to them, perhaps? ( his pensive expression for a moment shutters darkly, as if belying some sort of still violence. ) That’d explain why they’re flooding right now…
( leading him to his current state of inconvenience. )
no subject
he hadn’t been sure whether he believed in gods, devils, or demons before he had successfully summoned one of the latter with a circle he’d drawn on his bedroom floor. he hadn’t been predisposed to—if there were any gods, they had seen fit to turn their backs on him, damning him for that which he couldn’t control. but now that he’s entered that supernatural world himself, becoming a demon in his own paltry right… he comes to realize that not everything in the world is a mechanism whose function and purpose can be clearly discovered from observation and experimentation. some things are more esoteric. magic is far more challenging to understand, and it’s rarely something that can be forced or strongarmed.
this place seems to be more of the latter than the former, in his eyes.
makoto definitely is sitting in the shade of an umbrella, though, ironically enough, if he weren’t actively thinking about how he might get burned, he probably wouldn’t—having a body that’s entirely based on self-conception is wild like that! not that he really understands that, having only been a demon for a few months. he leans forward a little to listen with interest as bakugou gives a short report on what he’d seen. he considers it, chin falling into one hand, thoughtful. )
The “space” of this place doesn’t always make sense.
( but that’s obvious enough once one spends enough time here. he keeps musing aloud, ) A wave machine, though… Maybe it has something to do with the maintenance levels beneath the basement floors. Connected to them, perhaps? ( his pensive expression for a moment shutters darkly, as if belying some sort of still violence. ) That’d explain why they’re flooding right now…
( leading him to his current state of inconvenience. )