The force of Midoriya's grip and tug throw Paul off balance, pitching on his knees to shore up against Midoriya's side. He doesn't notice the sting of claws under the crackle of lambent energy sheathed Midoriya and the unexpected crash of their bodies. He doesn't follow Midoriya's gaze up, too preoccupied by the explosive, bloody claim that he makes.
It doesn't come as a surprise. Not a real one, when Paul remembers everything that's led to this moment, the things Midoriya has said and done since the ship sank. But it feels like a revelation, some veil twitched back from his own clouded vision.
He's dragged himself this far mechanically, one foot after another, always thinking to the next thing, and the next, and the next, so that the feelings dogging his footsteps could not catch up to him. Now, at the worst time, they do. He kneels, half-fallen, in the shadow of the Reckoning, and all he wants to do is curl himself under Midoriya's arm and close his eyes under the aegis of his protection.
"Hear him, Reckoning," Paul says, much quieter than Midoriya, finally lifting his eyes in shameless entreaty to another god of death. "Hear him and know your price will be paid for what we ask of you. We seek your judgment, laid over that house, against any in it who would harm Kaworu Nagisa, favored of your ill-done sister, her seas fresh on his lips - and I offer you this."
He raises his hand higher. Blood rushes down to his elbow, trickles along the curved muscle of his upper arm. He is shaking, with its loss or with awe, a tiny tremor that makes the droplets on his fingertips dance with reflected light.
"My contrition. My supplication." Fervency wrenches his voice. "Let me pay the debt I owe. Let it be me, and not him."
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It doesn't come as a surprise. Not a real one, when Paul remembers everything that's led to this moment, the things Midoriya has said and done since the ship sank. But it feels like a revelation, some veil twitched back from his own clouded vision.
He's dragged himself this far mechanically, one foot after another, always thinking to the next thing, and the next, and the next, so that the feelings dogging his footsteps could not catch up to him. Now, at the worst time, they do. He kneels, half-fallen, in the shadow of the Reckoning, and all he wants to do is curl himself under Midoriya's arm and close his eyes under the aegis of his protection.
"Hear him, Reckoning," Paul says, much quieter than Midoriya, finally lifting his eyes in shameless entreaty to another god of death. "Hear him and know your price will be paid for what we ask of you. We seek your judgment, laid over that house, against any in it who would harm Kaworu Nagisa, favored of your ill-done sister, her seas fresh on his lips - and I offer you this."
He raises his hand higher. Blood rushes down to his elbow, trickles along the curved muscle of his upper arm. He is shaking, with its loss or with awe, a tiny tremor that makes the droplets on his fingertips dance with reflected light.
"My contrition. My supplication." Fervency wrenches his voice. "Let me pay the debt I owe. Let it be me, and not him."