[ The daemon clicks his tongue at being considered any kind of exorcist. He isn't, he's argued this before, but Matoba is the same as him—believing what he likes. Even if the Rangetsu similarly disposed of daemons their urge to do so wasn't out of any obligation toward saving humans or other virtues practiced by the abbey. It was out of bloodlust, protecting their lands, and of a love of killing.
His lingering drift on the ephemeral nature of life is relatable in a more palatable way. It is a truth he is comfortable with, one Rokurou has known since young. There is no tension in the air between them upon touching it; Rokurou glances at him once more before likewise turning his attention to the birds in the trees. ]
You're so full of questions. [ he laughs, voice rich with a ripple of disbelief. not only had matoba not mocked, he had followed up with another inscrutable inquiry, ] Let me use your lap as a pillow and I'll tell you.
no subject
His lingering drift on the ephemeral nature of life is relatable in a more palatable way. It is a truth he is comfortable with, one Rokurou has known since young. There is no tension in the air between them upon touching it; Rokurou glances at him once more before likewise turning his attention to the birds in the trees. ]
You're so full of questions. [ he laughs, voice rich with a ripple of disbelief. not only had matoba not mocked, he had followed up with another inscrutable inquiry, ] Let me use your lap as a pillow and I'll tell you.