[ Though it may be an illusion, it's evidently more effective than anything else that's been attempted so far. Maybe it's because of Mononoke's closer connection to wrathful souls...? The grotesque figures turn to face the illusion, starting to meld together, along with their voices... growing more and more distorted, mixtures of different curses, grievances, and grudges.
Neither can truly interact with the other, but they aren't so easily frightened... their rage not so easily chased away. The frustration at how there was nothing they could have done, how sudden it had always been, how nothing they said had mattered even in the end. It all starts to meld together into one large, black mass... vaguely representing the shape of their masks.
Evidently, this has now turned into a massive staring contest between two horrific figures representing wrathful souls.
Eri is starting to slow down, but she's still sobbing, screaming, kicking and scratching at whatever has begun to cover her... keep her from herself. It starts to feel worse as she vaguely feels her nails draw blood... she's hurting someone, she's hurting someone other than herself, what is she doing...!?
The businessman—Nighteye, that's his name. Nighteye looks Dimitri right in the eye, acknowledging the threat... but what kind of Hero would he be if threats were all it took? He's heard them all at this point, Dimitri's is no exception.
Still, his protectiveness of her sparks... something in him, even if he doesn't show it. Instead, he pauses for a moment... his eyes flashing black and purple as he sees into their future... not even paying an ounce of attention to the rageful souls now behind Dimitri and Santa.
He lets out a sigh of relief, maybe even... smiling for a moment? But then he just takes one more step forward. Vocal communication may be off, but there are ways to communicate that your threats don't scare me, asshole. Still, that's where the silent 'rebuttal' ends. He's close enough. Still a few feet away, but it'll do. If only there were an effective way to point out the fact that, unlike the other souls present in the room, Nighteye is maskless. Unless you count his broken glasses, which would almost be comedic.
Almost.
Still, that's the end of his indignation. He can't afford to waste any more time on being indignant to the man currently taking care of this child. He kneels down, now squatting and at both Eri and Dimitri's current level on the floor. His face is still stern, but now that he's closer—and his glasses are helpfully shattered—his eyes are... sympathetic. Betraying the harsh lines of his face.
Still, he looks Dimitri in the eyes, places a hand on what's left of his chest, and looks down.
He's thanking him. This girl meant a lot to Mirio, and seeing as how he's dead, there's no reason to try and hide the fact that he's glad as well. Especially not at a time like this. ]
no subject
Neither can truly interact with the other, but they aren't so easily frightened... their rage not so easily chased away. The frustration at how there was nothing they could have done, how sudden it had always been, how nothing they said had mattered even in the end. It all starts to meld together into one large, black mass... vaguely representing the shape of their masks.
Evidently, this has now turned into a massive staring contest between two horrific figures representing wrathful souls.
Eri is starting to slow down, but she's still sobbing, screaming, kicking and scratching at whatever has begun to cover her... keep her from herself. It starts to feel worse as she vaguely feels her nails draw blood... she's hurting someone, she's hurting someone other than herself, what is she doing...!?
The businessman—Nighteye, that's his name. Nighteye looks Dimitri right in the eye, acknowledging the threat... but what kind of Hero would he be if threats were all it took? He's heard them all at this point, Dimitri's is no exception.
Still, his protectiveness of her sparks... something in him, even if he doesn't show it. Instead, he pauses for a moment... his eyes flashing black and purple as he sees into their future... not even paying an ounce of attention to the rageful souls now behind Dimitri and Santa.
He lets out a sigh of relief, maybe even... smiling for a moment? But then he just takes one more step forward. Vocal communication may be off, but there are ways to communicate that your threats don't scare me, asshole. Still, that's where the silent 'rebuttal' ends. He's close enough. Still a few feet away, but it'll do. If only there were an effective way to point out the fact that, unlike the other souls present in the room, Nighteye is maskless. Unless you count his broken glasses, which would almost be comedic.
Almost.
Still, that's the end of his indignation. He can't afford to waste any more time on being indignant to the man currently taking care of this child. He kneels down, now squatting and at both Eri and Dimitri's current level on the floor. His face is still stern, but now that he's closer—and his glasses are helpfully shattered—his eyes are... sympathetic. Betraying the harsh lines of his face.
Still, he looks Dimitri in the eyes, places a hand on what's left of his chest, and looks down.
He's thanking him. This girl meant a lot to Mirio, and seeing as how he's dead, there's no reason to try and hide the fact that he's glad as well. Especially not at a time like this. ]