[ heine has a certain silence that he carries with him, even his speech a shadow of what rin's might have been. it makes rin crane closer to listen. it makes heine, despite the bird bones and slender fingers, a presence that's impossible to ignore.
rin doesn't even try. when heine lays out the truth of it, cut and dried like meat already slaughtered, perhaps he should have been shocked or disgusted or fearful. but just days ago, rin walked into CERES's latest and saw the corpse of one of his oldest friends stung up like a fucking christmas ornament, his skin curling back like burning paper. if he's squeamish now, he'll never get anywhere.
so he throws a few more punches, stumbles a few more times. takes heine's suggestions to heart, making the corrections without question, saving all of his energy for the effort of learning what he's given. he'd thought this would be easier than it's proving to be: it had taken him a few days to learn how to swim, a few months to swim well. here, his body feels like it was formed wrong, joints too stiff and bones too brittle. his blood pounds through his temples; he can feel it, the adrenaline, the anticipation. he cleanches his fists, and follows again: punch, shift away, punch, parry, punch. your spine, a spring. ]
So --
[ limbs for control. organs for fatality. rin's expression twists and untwists - for a moment, just a moment, he looks very young. ]
no subject
rin doesn't even try. when heine lays out the truth of it, cut and dried like meat already slaughtered, perhaps he should have been shocked or disgusted or fearful. but just days ago, rin walked into CERES's latest and saw the corpse of one of his oldest friends stung up like a fucking christmas ornament, his skin curling back like burning paper. if he's squeamish now, he'll never get anywhere.
so he throws a few more punches, stumbles a few more times. takes heine's suggestions to heart, making the corrections without question, saving all of his energy for the effort of learning what he's given. he'd thought this would be easier than it's proving to be: it had taken him a few days to learn how to swim, a few months to swim well. here, his body feels like it was formed wrong, joints too stiff and bones too brittle. his blood pounds through his temples; he can feel it, the adrenaline, the anticipation. he cleanches his fists, and follows again: punch, shift away, punch, parry, punch. your spine, a spring. ]
So --
[ limbs for control. organs for fatality. rin's expression twists and untwists - for a moment, just a moment, he looks very young. ]
-- when do you think we can start with a weapon?