Were it anyone else reacting to him with such blatant shock, Akira might have basked privately in smug pride. Unmoving from his spot in the middle of the room, he takes the moment of silence to wordlessly study the other boy. There’s not much to be gleaned, however; he’s not the Detective Prince. The corner of his mouth threatens to quirk up into a smirk at the sight of Akechi’s tail, but the somber reality of their situation douses any enjoyment he could have indulged in.
People approach the library. Like Akechi, Akira too tenses. Though interrelations between Sacrifices have been amiable since arrival – with little to warrant any wariness of a fellow student – something about this night feels different. There’s a prominent sense that they shouldn’t trust each other anymore, that the days of companionable reliance in the classroom and dormitories are forever over. Now, he is meant to depend on Akechi, who must undoubtedly share the name Limitless. This is seriously starting to feel like the world’s worst social experiment.
Akira exhales inaudibly as the people walk by the library without incident. With the potential interference gone, he returns his attention to the potential danger. Because he still doesn’t know what to make of Goro Akechi. Because he barely ever knew Goro Akechi. Because while he feels a strong empathy toward Goro Akechi, he knows better than to trust the other boy so easily. Akira doesn’t have a death wish, thank you very much.
“Oh, really?” The response is bland, as dull and uninspired as the look on Akira’s face as he reaches up to gently tug on one such ear. “…Thanks. I’m sure he’d like to think so, at least.”
The moment passes and, with it, the indifferent levity on Akira’s face. With a small frown, he glances at Akechi’s arms – both hidden beneath the academy uniform.
“So, I guess I’m your Sacrifice,” he muses aloud, as if to himself, refusing to dwell on the irony in such a statement. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
His tail flicks pointedly from where it still rests around his wrist.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-12-31 05:45 am (UTC)People approach the library. Like Akechi, Akira too tenses. Though interrelations between Sacrifices have been amiable since arrival – with little to warrant any wariness of a fellow student – something about this night feels different. There’s a prominent sense that they shouldn’t trust each other anymore, that the days of companionable reliance in the classroom and dormitories are forever over. Now, he is meant to depend on Akechi, who must undoubtedly share the name Limitless. This is seriously starting to feel like the world’s worst social experiment.
Akira exhales inaudibly as the people walk by the library without incident. With the potential interference gone, he returns his attention to the potential danger. Because he still doesn’t know what to make of Goro Akechi. Because he barely ever knew Goro Akechi. Because while he feels a strong empathy toward Goro Akechi, he knows better than to trust the other boy so easily. Akira doesn’t have a death wish, thank you very much.
“Oh, really?” The response is bland, as dull and uninspired as the look on Akira’s face as he reaches up to gently tug on one such ear. “…Thanks. I’m sure he’d like to think so, at least.”
The moment passes and, with it, the indifferent levity on Akira’s face. With a small frown, he glances at Akechi’s arms – both hidden beneath the academy uniform.
“So, I guess I’m your Sacrifice,” he muses aloud, as if to himself, refusing to dwell on the irony in such a statement. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
His tail flicks pointedly from where it still rests around his wrist.