Now he is reminded that it is the seventh month. That doesn't mean anything definite, but the confluence of a Sleeper's birthday and Blessed Day happens often enough to set a precedent for the chance. He'll know in a matter of days if the Reckoning is his Patron. He thinks of Cloverfield, the lost almost childlike Pthumerian who gave him that picture of his mother. Midoriya regularly visits him when he can find him on the Farther Shores.
He does not entertain the vain notion that his possible Patron is like Cloverfield--or that he really knows Cloverfield well to begin with.
It doesn't matter if anyone hears the half-formed plan, because who can stop them? (Plenty of people in the moment, but the two of them would simply rise up and try again.) Midoriya can stop them, the two boys hurrying down the stairs. He knows what it is to be possessed by something inexorable: the need to do something to save someone.
"You'll die."
He's never so blunt when shooting a strategy down, but he's picked it up from others. Midoriya calls on that clear sight now, the focus that does away with his overthinking and lets the conclusion rise on his lips in protest. It's exhaled from a knot of life, not hollowness, a life that is desperate to protect another. (It wasn't enough during the storm.)
He's had no time to process anything that happened. Anger, sorrow, love, and betrayal fight for prominence in an uncertain future. He brushes aside the thought of what could have been in favor of what could still be, and what is. He sucks in a quick breath.
"She'll just curse or kill you as punishment. Then what's the point? It's the same as me staying here."
His voice shakes at the end, growling through his fangs. A life lost in this house or on its lawn to one god or another, and either way Kaworu has one less protector. That is not a victory. (And there is always the chance someone cannot come back.)
no subject
He does not entertain the vain notion that his possible Patron is like Cloverfield--or that he really knows Cloverfield well to begin with.
It doesn't matter if anyone hears the half-formed plan, because who can stop them? (Plenty of people in the moment, but the two of them would simply rise up and try again.) Midoriya can stop them, the two boys hurrying down the stairs. He knows what it is to be possessed by something inexorable: the need to do something to save someone.
"You'll die."
He's never so blunt when shooting a strategy down, but he's picked it up from others. Midoriya calls on that clear sight now, the focus that does away with his overthinking and lets the conclusion rise on his lips in protest. It's exhaled from a knot of life, not hollowness, a life that is desperate to protect another. (It wasn't enough during the storm.)
He's had no time to process anything that happened. Anger, sorrow, love, and betrayal fight for prominence in an uncertain future. He brushes aside the thought of what could have been in favor of what could still be, and what is. He sucks in a quick breath.
"She'll just curse or kill you as punishment. Then what's the point? It's the same as me staying here."
His voice shakes at the end, growling through his fangs. A life lost in this house or on its lawn to one god or another, and either way Kaworu has one less protector. That is not a victory. (And there is always the chance someone cannot come back.)