He smiles at that. Again, not the happy kind, but a cavalier sort of dealing with devils renewed determination when the other man takes his hand. And he grips it in return, strong and like a promise. ]
Not that kind. [ You seem absolutely nothing like your brother, you know. It's that bright but hard sort of glimmer in his pale eyes that he keeps squarely on Dabi's turquoise ones, the little upward twitch of a lopsided cocky smile.
But for a bit of a dick you might not be all that bad.
There's a faint glow from the cross on the back of his hand though. A gentleness that would radiate through his palm, something that feels soothing and cleansing like a fresh breeze on one's face. And even if it isn't a full invocation -- better not be, he wouldn't want to slice through that man's hand right after he got him to reluctantly trust him -- there's a rush of white and light as luminescent feathers lick their way like a sudden fire from his wrist up over his shoulders to the other and surround them in the whirl of what is either a cloak -- or wings. Or both. Bright but altogether unlike the neon firelight, more like being briefly caught in a blizzard that's both warm and cool. Crystalline but soft fragments of feather-shaped light wafting like snowflakes in the air. Even the scent is cool and soothing; clean and thin, crystalline, like fresh snow. And the faintest sort of note of ozone, like electricity in the air -- or magic.
That's the shape of a heart that just wants to "save" people and their souls given form and power. The most condensed form of spiritual power that comes solely from an unwavering sense of love for humanity, so deep and raw it's almost ragged. Bright as the brightest light right before it's burnt itself straight out from existence --
And something that exists solely to soothe and purge the dark, as it whips around them both. ]
no subject
He smiles at that. Again, not the happy kind, but a cavalier sort of dealing with devils renewed determination when the other man takes his hand. And he grips it in return, strong and like a promise. ]
Not that kind. [ You seem absolutely nothing like your brother, you know. It's that bright but hard sort of glimmer in his pale eyes that he keeps squarely on Dabi's turquoise ones, the little upward twitch of a lopsided cocky smile.
But for a bit of a dick you might not be all that bad.
There's a faint glow from the cross on the back of his hand though. A gentleness that would radiate through his palm, something that feels soothing and cleansing like a fresh breeze on one's face. And even if it isn't a full invocation -- better not be, he wouldn't want to slice through that man's hand right after he got him to reluctantly trust him -- there's a rush of white and light as luminescent feathers lick their way like a sudden fire from his wrist up over his shoulders to the other and surround them in the whirl of what is either a cloak -- or wings. Or both. Bright but altogether unlike the neon firelight, more like being briefly caught in a blizzard that's both warm and cool. Crystalline but soft fragments of feather-shaped light wafting like snowflakes in the air. Even the scent is cool and soothing; clean and thin, crystalline, like fresh snow. And the faintest sort of note of ozone, like electricity in the air -- or magic.
That's the shape of a heart that just wants to "save" people and their souls given form and power. The most condensed form of spiritual power that comes solely from an unwavering sense of love for humanity, so deep and raw it's almost ragged. Bright as the brightest light right before it's burnt itself straight out from existence --
And something that exists solely to soothe and purge the dark, as it whips around them both. ]