[The thin tail behind him curls into a mark of restrained enthusiasm, a black filigree around the mass of his kneeling legs. Akira takes it upon himself to brush open Ryo’s coattails, claws handling the heavy cloth as if it were wrinkled paper wrapped around a glass ornament. A delicate inspection of any possible cracks. The last time he’d seen Ryo, it had been as he was whipped by gusts, still clothed in his hospital bandages and gripped by the pain of a detached demon claw. Akira knew him well enough to suspect his stubborn ability to climb didn’t necessarily mean he was uninjured.
But aside from the stains of grass and dirt marked onto his clothes, it looks like he had nothing to worry about. He couldn't smell any blood, either - at least, none that belonged to Ryo's. There was just the beat of his eager heart, the relief in his breaths, and the glint of a real smile in his eyes. That was more than enough.]
Busy -
[What he was referring to doesn’t quite hit Akira until he notices the red smear on Ryo’s coat from his own hands. The claws retreat from him apologetically, a foaming wave reaching its crest too early and seeping quickly back to the ocean. Were it anyone else's eyes looking back at him, he may have felt a stronger sting of human insecurity at his frightening appearance.]
- I’ve been trying to find out where we are. None of this place looks familiar.
[His hands lift to his chest, where where something begins to shift unnaturally, driven by neither bone nor muscle. Over his sternum grows a mass, not much larger than the devilman's palm, stretching the hair and skin until it acquires a bare leathery texture and oblong shape. The stitching only engraves itself into recognizable, manmade patterns once the pack is mostly formed and nearly freed from the grasp of pliant, pulsing demon flesh. It falls into his hand in the same state as when he absorbed it, entirely dry and preserved inside him. Somehow.
Akira didn’t know how it worked, exactly, just that it was the first thing that came to mind when he became too large to properly wear it. The same way he knew Ghelmer’s name, or how to grow his wings, or to grab Sirene’s antenna with his own. ]
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But aside from the stains of grass and dirt marked onto his clothes, it looks like he had nothing to worry about. He couldn't smell any blood, either - at least, none that belonged to Ryo's. There was just the beat of his eager heart, the relief in his breaths, and the glint of a real smile in his eyes. That was more than enough.]
Busy -
[What he was referring to doesn’t quite hit Akira until he notices the red smear on Ryo’s coat from his own hands. The claws retreat from him apologetically, a foaming wave reaching its crest too early and seeping quickly back to the ocean. Were it anyone else's eyes looking back at him, he may have felt a stronger sting of human insecurity at his frightening appearance.]
- I’ve been trying to find out where we are. None of this place looks familiar.
[His hands lift to his chest, where where something begins to shift unnaturally, driven by neither bone nor muscle. Over his sternum grows a mass, not much larger than the devilman's palm, stretching the hair and skin until it acquires a bare leathery texture and oblong shape. The stitching only engraves itself into recognizable, manmade patterns once the pack is mostly formed and nearly freed from the grasp of pliant, pulsing demon flesh. It falls into his hand in the same state as when he absorbed it, entirely dry and preserved inside him. Somehow.
Akira didn’t know how it worked, exactly, just that it was the first thing that came to mind when he became too large to properly wear it. The same way he knew Ghelmer’s name, or how to grow his wings, or to grab Sirene’s antenna with his own. ]
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