[ It's funny, it's both impossible for him to get callouses on his left hand and entirely unnecessary. His right, the fingertips are lightly roughened but otherwise even his human hand is almost oddly smooth by comparison for someone who fights hand-to-hand. Someone who's always worn gloves for so very long.
—which he had been very conscious of wearing all day, of course, but also slipped quietly off when they sat.
That answer has Allen tipping his head slightly though, not because it's contrary but because he says it so clearly. How do you see it then? ]
It's different here, because of the war. Because of akuma. [ He says it softly, but seriously. ]
"If you're sad... then he will come." That's what he'd say. [ He's quiet for a moment too, his own gaze drawn back down to their hands. He presses his thumb lightly against Shouto's. ]
Grieving a loved one here, getting lost in that kind of grief... it summons someone. The one who uses their grief to create new akuma. That's how they fight. By taking advantage of sadness. Using despair to feed more despair and killing everyone involved. Making more weapons of them.
[ A pause. ] It isn't like Trench, where the state of the world creates an atmosphere of despair and everything adapts to it like the natural order. Even if maybe some Pthumerians interfere and try to play god, even thrive off corruption or blood, it isn't the same. [ It's a difference of intent—and scale. Organization.
...it's why he likes the Waking World better, even with its monsters and persistent horror. ]
Here, it's orchestrated with purpose. To weaponize human emotion against itself.
...That's why everyone has to be careful. [ He grips Shouto's hand tighter, almost as if in warning. ] Even if almost no one down there understands it.
no subject
—which he had been very conscious of wearing all day, of course, but also slipped quietly off when they sat.
That answer has Allen tipping his head slightly though, not because it's contrary but because he says it so clearly. How do you see it then? ]
It's different here, because of the war. Because of akuma. [ He says it softly, but seriously. ]
"If you're sad... then he will come." That's what he'd say. [ He's quiet for a moment too, his own gaze drawn back down to their hands. He presses his thumb lightly against Shouto's. ]
Grieving a loved one here, getting lost in that kind of grief... it summons someone. The one who uses their grief to create new akuma. That's how they fight. By taking advantage of sadness. Using despair to feed more despair and killing everyone involved. Making more weapons of them.
[ A pause. ] It isn't like Trench, where the state of the world creates an atmosphere of despair and everything adapts to it like the natural order. Even if maybe some Pthumerians interfere and try to play god, even thrive off corruption or blood, it isn't the same. [ It's a difference of intent—and scale. Organization.
...it's why he likes the Waking World better, even with its monsters and persistent horror. ]
Here, it's orchestrated with purpose. To weaponize human emotion against itself.
...That's why everyone has to be careful. [ He grips Shouto's hand tighter, almost as if in warning. ] Even if almost no one down there understands it.