#( FKJKJS they're both shaking hands over that tbh ren just wants extra credit on the assignment ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

he seems to take a moment to consider the request — still peering over one shoulder, expression devoid of all emotion while his eyes roil with it like stormy waters. there's a part of him that wishes to be STUBBORN — as if moving to sit at the human's side would be an admission of weakness. ( like a child, small and terrified and desperately grasping for comfort. ) ultimately, ren exhales a faint sigh and admonishes himself for being foolish. the wanderer then turns to face him and steps closer, sinking wordlessly down at niwa's side. after a few seconds, hands raise — and remove the kasa from its usual place atop his head. there's unspoken significance in the gesture; a show that he wishes to conduct this conversation with transparency, that he isn't afraid to allow his true thoughts to be unveiled in all their ugliness. he TRUSTS niwa enough to be vulnerable; it isn't a luxury he would be so quick afford many others.

❝ what i felt ... ❞ words echo from him unbidden at the memory. he glances at an upturned palm, and recalls the feeling of flame eating away at his flesh. ❝ that's just a FRACTION of the pain he's inflicted on others. the suffering didn't end with the furnace; he poisoned the soil and killed every plant that tried to take root in the aftermath. ❞ and there's a peculiar dreamy quality to his voice that suggests he's speaking not literally, but in metaphor. images flash through his mind; a tiny body lying prone in a bed of bloody flowers. human lives are such fragile things — is it any wonder why he's prone to WORRYING so?

ren exhales a shallow breath. he allows his fingers to curl into a loose fist, and drops it to rest atop the kasa in his lap. ❝ i still think DEATH is too good for him. ❞ the wanderer confesses, nose wrinkling with implied contempt. ❝ i understand your reasoning, and i'll agree that it's better to simply kill him ... rather than overcomplicating matters with delusions of a drawn out REVENGE ... ❞ on the contrary, he thinks his own desires are fated to end in disappointment even if he chooses to follow them — merely because there is no SUFFERING great enough that he could possibly inflict upon the doctor and still feel at peace. the wanderer has brushed against agonies that transcend the very definition of pain, and yet forcing dottore to endure them all simultaneously would only suffice as a mere appetizer to the ravenous, vengeful obsession that holds his thoughts ( his future ) in a vice. ❝ ... no matter what end he meets, i'll never be SATISFIED. ❞ never. ❝ i think all the contempt i once held for the world now rests solely on his shoulders ... he should burn to death a thousand times over. i'll claw out his throat with my bare hands. i'll slice him to pieces. ❞

his teeth audibly CLICK as his jaw snaps shut. he's getting worked up, voice growing both in volume and malicious intent. ( snippets of the balladeer shining through cracks in his fractured being. ) he ... doesn't want niwa to see that.

❝ the sooner we hunt him down, the better. ❞ ren continues, forcing himself to speak calmly. ❝ before he has the chance to make more of himself. ❞

━━ ˟ ⊰🍁THERE ARE NO SECOND CHANCES in obtaining a life, this Niwa is certain ; this, unfortunately, has led him down a path of contemplation: is he really the same man that died all those years ago or is he something else entirely, sewn as an abomination to appear equal to that of what the puppet before him is used to -- a joke, a morbid one. Even as a potential impersonation what is truly expected, he finds that exceptions to the rules shouldn't happen -- they shouldn't exist when it comes to life's morals: he wasn't anything special to deserve that slot, yet here he sat as one. To utilize his life for the benefit of those he knew and those he loves, he must ensure he is able to live up to the expectations placed. In deeper honesty, it's something he's content to know had gotten through to other: his life here cannot be spared from tragedy that will follow them like a shadow ; despite the pain it brings, despite the forbidden fruit stinging the insides of their mouths, it was necessary to obtain this knowledge, to use it, to force themselves to acknowledge its existence: Niwa cannot be saved forever by the hands that he trusts.

His arm finally collapsed to his lap, resting it now that he's certain he won't be forced to unclasp his delusion from form ; the effects on his body -- what were they? The Doctor, Escher, must have been desiring to unleash that information for his own sick amusement. Tenacity kept Niwa alive, he assumed, determined to defy life and death itself and the shades the encompassed them to reach his goals. How upsetting that he had been so close to that damned monster and hadn't a clue. Teeth clenched for but a few seconds, then unfastened as he allowed his anger to simmer to the back of his mind, the streaming thoughts that swirled there to whisk it away from him at this moment ; body couldn't maintain anything too far above or below a neutral standpoint.

❝ Thank you. ❞ As unfortunate their circumstances were, Ren's warnings after the fact were appreciated, taken in and soaked through pores ; although he cannot say he hadn't thought to use it only when he needed, far more fearful of appearing as though his hubris to defy the gods was on display than to limit his own downfall, the new meaning to this statement is enlightening: use it only when you can't avoid it. Sage smile blossoms, ❝ Weapons are the extension of one's self ; this...constitutes as the limit to these extensions. ❞ The sword is his main weapon, an extension of his arm, made to fit his mind, body, and soul to a perfect embodiment of companionship ; the delusion an extension of his mind, for strategizing and plotting accordingly, knowing when to unleash its power and when to block with his blade or rely on others to have his back. Though he can sense danger upon the winds and use it to his advantage during combative scenarios, this doesn't always grant him safety nor does it spare him injuries ; a precursor to pain or actions is what he calls the sensations that edge up his spine. Countless times had he put his own body between Kabukimono and strife ; he knows that now he wishes to repay that favor, the overprotective manner in which they approach the world a key indicator of such, but he can't allow it to exist as anything more than necessary: they were each other's swords, they were each other's shields, not one over the other.

Digits upon lap gestured to him, ❝ Sit down beside me. ❞ No matter if he accepted the proposal or not, Niwa would continue to speak, ❝ I never saw what Escher really looked like before I passed on ; the man must feel pride in deceiving me fully at last... ❞ Rotten bastard. ❝ I trust your judgment and I'm grateful you trust mine ; if -- no, when we find him, I want his last seconds alive to know what the people of Tatarasuna felt with the furnace -- what you felt. That will be the last time I ever use this delusion... ❞ Will it kill him as well?