[The old contours of the book brings a look of surprise to his face - and with it, something else shifting in the devilman’s large frame. Perhaps Ryo might feel the more subtle stirring air of the demon’s energy leaving his body, threads of static barely visible at the standing ends of fur, but the physical changes are too drastic and simultaneous to easily ignore.
The thick keratin of claws retract back into their beds as the dense undercoat on his legs thin out until bare skin was all that was left underneath. Crouched on the ground, the monstrous mass of his limbs slim down to human proportions. The long tail, with all its tense and emotive curves and arrowhead tip, vanishes into his spine. Wing-like crests and thick antenna lose their shape, becoming a formless, writhing mane of hair absent of any effect of gravity. The shearing carnassials and fangs of his teeth lose their vicious sharpness - though a hint of them remains by the end.
Akira soon stands to his feet, bare as the day he was born, and wipes the still-present blood from his mouth. His eyes are obstructed by wisps of hair, falling chaotically over his face once they lose their supernatural viscosity. The yellow glow of the demon fades from his eyes until there is nothing but a familiar, warm umber staring back at Ryo, and a hand (mostly) wiped clean of his lunch reaching for the book.]
[Touching the worn paper edges with his fingers brought fond memories of being lost with Ryo in the curiosities of the Professor’s study. Despite his rougher appearance and even more physical methods nowadays, the human Fudo Akira once enjoyed diving through a library - whether they be at his school or in the dark corridors of the Asuka mansion. His room in the Makimura’s house was sparsely populated, save for small things like this copy of the Divine Comedy he'd taken a liking to, unaware of just how relevant Dante’s stories would be to his future.]
Why this, of all things…?
[Akira muses on the question as he picks it up out of Ryo’s hand, his own pack nearly empty in comparison. A quick flip of the pages uncovers the scent of old paper before the book is packed away.]
I have something for you too. Let’s trade.
[Akira offers his lighter bag in with the thing in question, taking notice of how Ryo’s strap sank sharply into his shoulder. Even with his friend’s uncanny endurance, Akira knew he’d have an easier time carting around something heavy on his own back. Ryo was still human, as far as he knew.]
no subject
The thick keratin of claws retract back into their beds as the dense undercoat on his legs thin out until bare skin was all that was left underneath. Crouched on the ground, the monstrous mass of his limbs slim down to human proportions. The long tail, with all its tense and emotive curves and arrowhead tip, vanishes into his spine. Wing-like crests and thick antenna lose their shape, becoming a formless, writhing mane of hair absent of any effect of gravity. The shearing carnassials and fangs of his teeth lose their vicious sharpness - though a hint of them remains by the end.
Akira soon stands to his feet, bare as the day he was born, and wipes the still-present blood from his mouth. His eyes are obstructed by wisps of hair, falling chaotically over his face once they lose their supernatural viscosity. The yellow glow of the demon fades from his eyes until there is nothing but a familiar, warm umber staring back at Ryo, and a hand (mostly) wiped clean of his lunch reaching for the book.]
[Touching the worn paper edges with his fingers brought fond memories of being lost with Ryo in the curiosities of the Professor’s study. Despite his rougher appearance and even more physical methods nowadays, the human Fudo Akira once enjoyed diving through a library - whether they be at his school or in the dark corridors of the Asuka mansion. His room in the Makimura’s house was sparsely populated, save for small things like this copy of the Divine Comedy he'd taken a liking to, unaware of just how relevant Dante’s stories would be to his future.]
Why this, of all things…?
[Akira muses on the question as he picks it up out of Ryo’s hand, his own pack nearly empty in comparison. A quick flip of the pages uncovers the scent of old paper before the book is packed away.]
I have something for you too. Let’s trade.
[Akira offers his lighter bag in with the thing in question, taking notice of how Ryo’s strap sank sharply into his shoulder. Even with his friend’s uncanny endurance, Akira knew he’d have an easier time carting around something heavy on his own back. Ryo was still human, as far as he knew.]