it isn't the first time he's thought this. it probably won't be the last time. there's something intriguing about talking to him-- something, he supposes, that he shares with Niou. but while Niou is the cut mirror that distorts and mimics, Yagyuu is a polished surface that reflects the gaze of the beholder. and this, he thinks, is very frightening, because in both myth and horror, it's the unbroken mirrors that must be feared.
he's always thought that there was truth in whimsy, and that there is truth to age-old horrors of seeing unnamed, unmentionable creatures lurking on the other side of a polished surface. it makes for a clever metaphor for how much humanity dislikes seeing what's reflected of themselves-- and here, he supposes lies the problem to this conversation. there's a shiver down his spine as he considers Yagyuu's questions, direct and unopposed.
this person can see through him.
perhaps not all the way through, perhaps never with the same intensity that his captain can, certainly not with the stark honesty that reflects in the eyes of his brother. but while he knows what he sees in the mirror, he doesn't know what a mirror sees-- if a mirror sees the same thing it reflects, or if it sees far more clearly into the object at hand. such things never really occurred to him. it might be interested to think about them, now.
but the prospects of responsibility and forever-- this is a fair question, he thinks. fair for someone who has already seen so much, come so far. he knows the story, after all, it's only expected that he'd come to that conclusion. he thinks on what made him speak with honesty, and he thinks about his answer, now.
it's not honesty that guides his words, but the remembrance of things that he's never owned, that he never will own. but his words, stretched across the silence, feel needless, the gap between himself and the silent walls of understand wide, untouched, because he doesn't wish to touch them. so how should he respond, if he didn't care for understanding? how would he answer if this wasn't Yagyuu? how would he answer if the one who asked was the sky?]
Both prospects are very dear to me.
[and so I play with them as I please, but at the end of the day, as I pass them by, i leave them behind as though they were untouched.]
no subject
it isn't the first time he's thought this. it probably won't be the last time. there's something intriguing about talking to him-- something, he supposes, that he shares with Niou. but while Niou is the cut mirror that distorts and mimics, Yagyuu is a polished surface that reflects the gaze of the beholder. and this, he thinks, is very frightening, because in both myth and horror, it's the unbroken mirrors that must be feared.
he's always thought that there was truth in whimsy, and that there is truth to age-old horrors of seeing unnamed, unmentionable creatures lurking on the other side of a polished surface. it makes for a clever metaphor for how much humanity dislikes seeing what's reflected of themselves-- and here, he supposes lies the problem to this conversation. there's a shiver down his spine as he considers Yagyuu's questions, direct and unopposed.
this person can see through him.
perhaps not all the way through, perhaps never with the same intensity that his captain can, certainly not with the stark honesty that reflects in the eyes of his brother. but while he knows what he sees in the mirror, he doesn't know what a mirror sees-- if a mirror sees the same thing it reflects, or if it sees far more clearly into the object at hand. such things never really occurred to him. it might be interested to think about them, now.
but the prospects of responsibility and forever-- this is a fair question, he thinks. fair for someone who has already seen so much, come so far. he knows the story, after all, it's only expected that he'd come to that conclusion. he thinks on what made him speak with honesty, and he thinks about his answer, now.
it's not honesty that guides his words, but the remembrance of things that he's never owned, that he never will own. but his words, stretched across the silence, feel needless, the gap between himself and the silent walls of understand wide, untouched, because he doesn't wish to touch them. so how should he respond, if he didn't care for understanding? how would he answer if this wasn't Yagyuu? how would he answer if the one who asked was the sky?]
Both prospects are very dear to me.
[and so I play with them as I please, but at the end of the day, as I pass them by, i leave them behind as though they were untouched.]