[He seems to at least get the feeling that he's hitting a dead end - or would soon enough - and lets the line of questioning drop without fuss.]
Huh. Even the other people here who aren't human don't seem to be similar in that way. [Sad! Where are all his destructive nonhuman entities at.] Actually, a lot of them are pretty familiar even if they aren't human by name.
'Tis likely that they simply lack any motivation to do so, or that they have grown attached.
[not everyone has had their murder switch flipped, mahito, this has to be accepted.
but speaking of things that have to be accepted-- well. despite this being their first meeting, it seems this week's little memory problem is triggered regardless, and the perspective abruptly shifts.]
[you're standing in a gilded room, constructed largely of beautiful blue crystal with golden detailing, along with several other figures of varying species. they had earned the explanation you've given them just now, you suppose, but of course you do not expect it to sit well with them; the first to speak is a white-haired woman with white cat ears and pale eyes, her brows furrowed.
"from purely your own standpoint, it could be said that what you seek to do is only logical, but that would be to ignore the immeasurable destruction wrought with each rejoining. you have murdered millions. and this we cannot condone."
"by your fragmented existence," you respond casually enough, "you continue to give rise to tragedies far crueler than any calamity. but yes, moral relativism and all that. case in point-- i do not consider you to be truly alive. ergo, i will not be guilty of murder if i kill you."
as expected, none of them are pleased to hear it. as expected, one of them in particular (a human man) levels a glare at you, but in return, you simply raise a brow and smile.
"oh, don't look at me like that. you for whom i have only the highest expectations."]
[it ends there, and as it fades, despair's wings ruffle, the crystalline feathers chiming against each other.]
--I suppose there truly is no escaping this, is there?
[IS THE FIRST THING HE SAYS, after his very obvious attempts at reorienting himself after the memory ends... He's already been through it several times at this point; some are harder to disentangle himself from than others. Some have wider, brighter, more foreign feelings that sit with him like a hot coal until he's able to return to himself properly. Even those with milder emotions jar him. It's unpleasant, to say the least, being forced into a perspective and memory and life that doesn't belong to you.
But after the initial unpleasantness, he does tend to enjoy the aftermath. To be able to understand the people around you is to understand yourself better, too. Mahito is always voraciously hungry for more, anyway - more knowledge, more information, more funky lore about mass-murdering nonhumans with some wildass perspectives.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, like someone trying to relieve a pressure headache...]
Having that kind of perspective probably doesn't make you an easy friend to a lot of people, huh?
Nope. [An immediate response to the question...] But you don't really seem like the kinda person that'd be troubled by a lot of things to begin with.
[He seems to consider something then, mentally chewing over their last statement before he eventually nods.]
I can kind of get it, I think? Kind of... Playing nice isn't always fun or worth the effort.
[But he is, strangely and funkily, a naturally genial entity who doesn't have to put forth effort into getting along with people. Until he starts murdering them.]
[SAYS THE CURSE, though he says it in a way that implies he does not actually care at all about its harshness and is just gently teasing.]
Where do we fall on that scale? Flies hanging out by your fruitbowl for a while that you just kinda have to deal with, 'cuz you can't leave the kitchen?
[Even if it were serious, "fly hanging out by the fruitbowl" is still a more generous opinion than "actual plague upon humanity". He can vibe with it, but he can vibe with just about anything, damn.]
How long have you been stuck in the kitchen, anyway? Not that I'm expecting a straight answer or anything, but it sounds like it's been a looong time. Your fruitbowl's probably had a lot of flies, huh?
Rarely. [THE LUCKY? UNLUCKY?? ONES... that stick around... There's a little, light huff of laughter.] I guess there are exceptions for all of us, in most things.
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[but they don't clarify further than that!]
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Huh. Even the other people here who aren't human don't seem to be similar in that way. [Sad! Where are all his destructive nonhuman entities at.] Actually, a lot of them are pretty familiar even if they aren't human by name.
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[not everyone has had their murder switch flipped, mahito, this has to be accepted.
but speaking of things that have to be accepted-- well. despite this being their first meeting, it seems this week's little memory problem is triggered regardless, and the perspective abruptly shifts.]
[you're standing in a gilded room, constructed largely of beautiful blue crystal with golden detailing, along with several other figures of varying species. they had earned the explanation you've given them just now, you suppose, but of course you do not expect it to sit well with them; the first to speak is a white-haired woman with white cat ears and pale eyes, her brows furrowed.
"from purely your own standpoint, it could be said that what you seek to do is only logical, but that would be to ignore the immeasurable destruction wrought with each rejoining. you have murdered millions. and this we cannot condone."
"by your fragmented existence," you respond casually enough, "you continue to give rise to tragedies far crueler than any calamity. but yes, moral relativism and all that. case in point-- i do not consider you to be truly alive. ergo, i will not be guilty of murder if i kill you."
as expected, none of them are pleased to hear it. as expected, one of them in particular (a human man) levels a glare at you, but in return, you simply raise a brow and smile.
"oh, don't look at me like that. you for whom i have only the highest expectations."]
[it ends there, and as it fades, despair's wings ruffle, the crystalline feathers chiming against each other.]
--I suppose there truly is no escaping this, is there?
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[IS THE FIRST THING HE SAYS, after his very obvious attempts at reorienting himself after the memory ends... He's already been through it several times at this point; some are harder to disentangle himself from than others. Some have wider, brighter, more foreign feelings that sit with him like a hot coal until he's able to return to himself properly. Even those with milder emotions jar him. It's unpleasant, to say the least, being forced into a perspective and memory and life that doesn't belong to you.
But after the initial unpleasantness, he does tend to enjoy the aftermath. To be able to understand the people around you is to understand yourself better, too. Mahito is always voraciously hungry for more, anyway - more knowledge, more information, more funky lore about mass-murdering nonhumans with some wildass perspectives.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, like someone trying to relieve a pressure headache...]
Having that kind of perspective probably doesn't make you an easy friend to a lot of people, huh?
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[they sound almost amused, at that, despite having a part of themselves shared that way.]
I could be easy enough to get along with, should I choose to be-- but the majority of the time, it is neither a necessity nor worth the effort.
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[He seems to consider something then, mentally chewing over their last statement before he eventually nods.]
I can kind of get it, I think? Kind of... Playing nice isn't always fun or worth the effort.
[But he is, strangely and funkily, a naturally genial entity who doesn't have to put forth effort into getting along with people. Until he starts murdering them.]
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[you won't get much out of it, and you're going to swat it eventually.]
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[SAYS THE CURSE, though he says it in a way that implies he does not actually care at all about its harshness and is just gently teasing.]
Where do we fall on that scale? Flies hanging out by your fruitbowl for a while that you just kinda have to deal with, 'cuz you can't leave the kitchen?
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[they say that almost flippantly. it might or might not be serious?]
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How long have you been stuck in the kitchen, anyway? Not that I'm expecting a straight answer or anything, but it sounds like it's been a looong time. Your fruitbowl's probably had a lot of flies, huh?
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