[ Given all of their past experience, Rokurou almost expects a hard yank once Matoba combs one of his claws through his hair. Yet pain never comes. The light scratch runs across his scalp draws a shiver of pleasure, a tingle of delight down his spine, and his eyes crescent in enjoyment of it. Like a cat stretched out in a patch of sunlight, for a moment, Rokurou Rangetsu is the picture of contentment.
So contented that he drawls out an honest answer, ]
Mn, three years. [ his eyes squint to near close as he nudges his head against Matoba's fingers in encouragement. keep doing that. ] About that long, I think...
[ The daemon yawns, content to fall asleep like this. For the first time in a while his mind finally seems willing to calm, all the racing thoughts and restlessness biting at his nerves settling down. Is this too the power of an exorcist, or just Matoba? A question he'll never know the answer to because he'll never ask it. ]
no subject
So contented that he drawls out an honest answer, ]
Mn, three years. [ his eyes squint to near close as he nudges his head against Matoba's fingers in encouragement. keep doing that. ] About that long, I think...
[ The daemon yawns, content to fall asleep like this. For the first time in a while his mind finally seems willing to calm, all the racing thoughts and restlessness biting at his nerves settling down. Is this too the power of an exorcist, or just Matoba? A question he'll never know the answer to because he'll never ask it. ]