[ angel devil is a person accustomed to understanding harm, and how it happens. he knows exactly how to recognize malicious intent in another person, how to stir it up to a fever pitch and make them potentially abandon their higher reason.
He is accustomed to searching out resentment like panning for gold, and to finding fear and twisting it to his purposes--
but he's also not used to trying to do things for people in earnesty and being humored for it. the nagging familiarity of what he's watching happens clicks, midway. which is why, even though he'd talked about making this "more exciting for hi " with Muffin, he stays his hand. Puts a quiet focus, to keeping his work as steady as possible.
...people kept saying, 'what a nice thing to do'... but he wonders, idly, if he might have done the exact same thing some mere months back in his old life, explicitly to be cruel.
A white light shines in the second shrine, when Pond Fiend reaches the apex of the spire. Angel Devil sits straighter up with his knees to his chest, leaving plenty of space to sit on the flat platform.
I could fix that, he thinks. If there was a single spark of genuine calm left in him, right now. But it's not worth trying to pull, if there isn't.
And anyway, for the same reason he prefers to do his agitating of others by hand-- this, he wishes that he could, too. ]
Pond Fiend. I have... a question.
...what is it that climbing means, to you?
[ he certainly didn't see it, in his trip up that spire.
(he was hoping to, but instead he saw something else.)]
no subject
He is accustomed to searching out resentment like panning for gold, and to finding fear and twisting it to his purposes--
but he's also not used to trying to do things for people in earnesty and being humored for it. the nagging familiarity of what he's watching happens clicks, midway.
which is why, even though he'd talked about making this "more exciting for hi " with Muffin, he stays his hand. Puts a quiet focus, to keeping his work as steady as possible.
...people kept saying, 'what a nice thing to do'... but he wonders, idly, if he might have done the exact same thing some mere months back in his old life, explicitly to be cruel.
A white light shines in the second shrine, when Pond Fiend reaches the apex of the spire. Angel Devil sits straighter up with his knees to his chest, leaving plenty of space to sit on the flat platform.
I could fix that, he thinks. If there was a single spark of genuine calm left in him, right now. But it's not worth trying to pull, if there isn't.
And anyway, for the same reason he prefers to do his agitating of others by hand-- this, he wishes that he could, too. ]
Pond Fiend. I have... a question.
...what is it that climbing means, to you?
[ he certainly didn't see it, in his trip up that spire.
(he was hoping to, but instead he saw something else.)]