[The resolution that finds its way into Makoto’s expression warms Liem’s regard, just a little. He has had far less opportunity to give support and advice than he would have liked, especially to any good effect, so the chance to help a young man in even a small way is still a pleasure. Whether or not the young man’s wish bears fruit, the burdens weighing on him seem to have lightened at least a little.
He watches the Makoto fetch a new piece of paper to write upon, but when he begins to write, Liem turns his eyes away. Instead he finds a slip of paper and a pen for himself, though he simply rests them on the table for now. He needs another moment to contemplate his own wish.
He knows where he needs to be; it’s just where he wishes to be that is in conflict. Really, he wishes he could be free to go where he’d like, and still be able to fulfill his duties as well. He just doesn’t know if such a thing is possible, given how far he wants to range.
But he still has a modest smile for the boy next to him when he speaks up again. Close-mouthed, of course, by force of habit.]
It was my pleasure. I hope your journey treats you well, young man, and you get where you want to be.
( gnawing doubts, makoto’s constant bedfellows, hound him. it’s not specific enough, they decry, needling him for more specificity; it doesn’t have enough teeth. if this were another contract that he was forming with a demon, something signed with one’s christened name in the crimson of their blood, he would have given more consideration to the wording, to the vagueness, to how it might be interpreted. but this is a scrap of paper to be burnt to smoke and ash, leaving nothing behind to bind him body and soul. he hopes that it’s fine as it is, that it will be interpreted in a way that he doesn’t regret in the future.
he can sense the vague warmth from liem; the contentedness that emanates from the soul when one can offer help to another and see it received and taken to heart. as uncommon as an experience as this is for liem, it’s just as novel for makoto. typically he wouldn’t trust the advice anyone would give him, let alone an adult—they have always twisted their words and his understanding of them to their own ends, while fjord, his contemporary in hell, had given him advice on how to survive for nothing at all. makoto still feels as though he owes him (though, given what had happened directly before that advice, maybe not?). from liem, though, he senses a curious… void of self-interest. makoto’s eye for others’ intentions is not yet so sharp and discerning as it would one day be, but it’s a gut instinct he has, and he decides to trust it just this time.
he turns back ahead, going through the motions of dropping the piece of paper down into the jar and reaching for one of the matches. it’s as he goes through these steps of the ritual, however, that he can’t help but let his curiosity slip free from him: )
Are you going to wish to go home too?
( he immediately begins to regret it. he doesn’t think talking about it is going to endanger the wish (if their conversation has anything to say about it), but it’s still prying. his mouth presses together into a thin line; he strikes the match, brow furrowing a little as the flame threatens to burn his fingertips. )
I’ve just, um… I’ve noticed that a lot of people are wishing for that.
( he drops the match into the jar, watching the piece of paper catch almost immediately. ash, smoke. freedom. )
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no subject
He watches the Makoto fetch a new piece of paper to write upon, but when he begins to write, Liem turns his eyes away. Instead he finds a slip of paper and a pen for himself, though he simply rests them on the table for now. He needs another moment to contemplate his own wish.
He knows where he needs to be; it’s just where he wishes to be that is in conflict. Really, he wishes he could be free to go where he’d like, and still be able to fulfill his duties as well. He just doesn’t know if such a thing is possible, given how far he wants to range.
But he still has a modest smile for the boy next to him when he speaks up again. Close-mouthed, of course, by force of habit.]
It was my pleasure. I hope your journey treats you well, young man, and you get where you want to be.
no subject
he can sense the vague warmth from liem; the contentedness that emanates from the soul when one can offer help to another and see it received and taken to heart. as uncommon as an experience as this is for liem, it’s just as novel for makoto. typically he wouldn’t trust the advice anyone would give him, let alone an adult—they have always twisted their words and his understanding of them to their own ends, while fjord, his contemporary in hell, had given him advice on how to survive for nothing at all. makoto still feels as though he owes him (though, given what had happened directly before that advice, maybe not?). from liem, though, he senses a curious… void of self-interest. makoto’s eye for others’ intentions is not yet so sharp and discerning as it would one day be, but it’s a gut instinct he has, and he decides to trust it just this time.
he turns back ahead, going through the motions of dropping the piece of paper down into the jar and reaching for one of the matches. it’s as he goes through these steps of the ritual, however, that he can’t help but let his curiosity slip free from him: )
Are you going to wish to go home too?
( he immediately begins to regret it. he doesn’t think talking about it is going to endanger the wish (if their conversation has anything to say about it), but it’s still prying. his mouth presses together into a thin line; he strikes the match, brow furrowing a little as the flame threatens to burn his fingertips. )
I’ve just, um… I’ve noticed that a lot of people are wishing for that.
( he drops the match into the jar, watching the piece of paper catch almost immediately. ash, smoke. freedom. )