[reaction] 1/2carnificialsFebruary 18 2010, 23:13:01 UTC
[ Humanity is ugly.
And this is the ugliest.
Mukuro would laugh, but his breath has solidified in his throat, and even if it hadn't, he wouldn't have known what the hell he had been laughing over, anyway. Humanity is ugly because it's emotional and sensitive, one big poisonous ball of gas that infects and destroys everything it touches, and Mukuro's not cruel.
He's merciful. This is one example why.
The dream makes his chest hurt, makes his lungs ache from beneath his ribcage. There's too many feelings here, too many conflicting emotions that burst together like fireworks. It's dangerous, and it's stupid. Stupid to feel this way, stupid to waste time and energy attempting to understand something that cannot be understood, because.
( Sometimes -- )
Broken people ( toys ) should stay broken.
This man has been handicapped by his own humanity. This man is wounded, torn open, but he's not torn open enough -- except, no, that's not right. He's vulnerable because he's been torn open too much, and Mukuro refuses to understand. He feels it, every twist in his gut, every wrench in the lining of his stomach; it makes him sick, it travels straight up his spine to settle in his dry mouth, and he pulls his hand away from the Hitomi as if he's been burned by fire.
And there's a small moment of irrational panic ( disgusting disgusting dirty filthy I won't I can't this will ruin everything ), before he remembers that these feelings are not his own, and that he remains untouched. His fingers twist in the dirt beneath him, and then they relax, and he breathes, his eyes squeezed shut as he focuses, fucking focus.
Humanity is ugly, and this man is a fucking dog with a hole blown right through his chest, breathing shallowly, lungs flooded with blood, and it's right then at that second, his heart still beating fast and his temples still pounding, that Mukuro decides he'll put him down and crush his throat, grind what's left of his heart into dust and ash. Eventually.
Because he is a plague, but he is a necessary one. And he'll do this world a favor.
Kakashi hadn't even managed to gather himself together enough to figure out how the hell to respond to the shit (and it is shit, it is shit because Pain doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about, doesn't know Sasuke, doesn't know anything, and thinks he does -- Pain thinks he is a god but he is just a man, just a man, just a man) that Pain spewed at him and expected him to swallow, when this little comment came creeping along and Kakashi's already angry, trying to control himself. Angry that he had this dream in the first place, and angrier that everyone saw it, and angriest most of all that he can't control the things that go on in his head when he closes his eyes and tries to sleep at night and everyone can reach in, beyond the mask and see--
(Everything.)
He abruptly stops thinking. When he is not thinking it is better than when he is. He makes himself think of things that are not Sasuke. That are not Pain talking shit at him and the confusion of not knowing what the hell it was he dreamed in the first place and the fear that makes him not want to check his Hitomi to remind himself what exactly it is that goes on in his head when he can't control himself.
Well fuck.
He doesn't like the way this stranger sounds. And he knows which stranger this is, too, because he spent some time tossing voice comments back and forth. Bantering. Trying to figure out just what this guy was all about.
It's obvious enough. ]
What does it matter to you.
[ It doesn't matter, and Kakashi knows this, but he's pissed off enough that he'll respond. ]
[ Yeah, that's good. This is where Mukuro flourishes, where Mukuro does his absolute best. Anger is something he's familiar with, something he's used to dealing with, and he doesn't know how pissed off this man is just yet, but it's pretty goddamn obvious that he's not happy.
And that's enough.
He's hunched over his device, shoulders tense as he squeezes his fingers around the hard casing. His heart hasn't settled yet, nor has the pounding in his head, but this little bit of familiarity is enough to ground him, enough to have him refocusing. ]
I'm just concerned. [ And doesn't he just sound it? ] It's not healthy to keep everything in like that.
[ Oh, there is nothing Kakashi wants more than to smash something right now. Put his fist, full of lightning, through something (not a person, no, there's nothing good about killing, and he's had too much death in his life and has caused too much of it and sometimes it's just too much) and watch it smash into little tiny pieces that can't be put together again.
There is just too much going on inside of his head and his thoughts are running like the way the dream was running out of control and unstoppable and god, what the hell was he doing dreaming about Sasuke like that?
Kakashi draws a breath in and lets it out. Slowly. Draws up his control (because he feels a little too wired, a little too on the edge and ready to snap) and pulls down the anger and the frustration and tucks it behind the mask, where no one can see or hear it. He swallows it down the way he swallows everything else, makes his voice into a mask too. ]
An outlet, hmm?
[ And his voice, it is light and indifferent and just perfectly careless. ]
The corner of Mukuro's mouth twitches up, just a little, and he tips his head back, peering up through leafy branches to gaze idly at the skies above. And maybe if he hadn't been talking to someone like Mukuro, someone not necessarily human but familiar with humans nonetheless, his little attempt at covering his tracks might have worked.
As it is, Mukuro knows how these games go. Except it's probably not really a game, not to Kakashi, not when he's pulling back and locking down. That's a defense mechanism; he's wrapping his feelings tight into a hard shell to protect himself. The real game is prying them all out.
Mukuro draws his hand away from his Hitomi again, and though he's still looking up, watching the wind disturb the willowy branches, his question is directed down to the device, to Kakashi. ]
[ Dreams are just the mind when they have lost control. This is what Kakashi believes which is why he prefers not to dream. Prefers not to remember what his mind comes up with when he sleeps.
And this man, he wants to hear the words come out of his mouth: that dreams have meaning, that he should pay closer attention when he'd rather not. He is fishing for something, wants to find something vulnerable, so he can plunge his fingers into it where they don't belong. ]
And this is the ugliest.
Mukuro would laugh, but his breath has solidified in his throat, and even if it hadn't, he wouldn't have known what the hell he had been laughing over, anyway. Humanity is ugly because it's emotional and sensitive, one big poisonous ball of gas that infects and destroys everything it touches, and Mukuro's not cruel.
He's merciful. This is one example why.
The dream makes his chest hurt, makes his lungs ache from beneath his ribcage. There's too many feelings here, too many conflicting emotions that burst together like fireworks. It's dangerous, and it's stupid. Stupid to feel this way, stupid to waste time and energy attempting to understand something that cannot be understood, because.
( Sometimes -- )
Broken people ( toys ) should stay broken.
This man has been handicapped by his own humanity. This man is wounded, torn open, but he's not torn open enough -- except, no, that's not right. He's vulnerable because he's been torn open too much, and Mukuro refuses to understand. He feels it, every twist in his gut, every wrench in the lining of his stomach; it makes him sick, it travels straight up his spine to settle in his dry mouth, and he pulls his hand away from the Hitomi as if he's been burned by fire.
And there's a small moment of irrational panic ( disgusting disgusting dirty filthy I won't I can't this will ruin everything ), before he remembers that these feelings are not his own, and that he remains untouched. His fingers twist in the dirt beneath him, and then they relax, and he breathes, his eyes squeezed shut as he focuses, fucking focus.
Humanity is ugly, and this man is a fucking dog with a hole blown right through his chest, breathing shallowly, lungs flooded with blood, and it's right then at that second, his heart still beating fast and his temples still pounding, that Mukuro decides he'll put him down and crush his throat, grind what's left of his heart into dust and ash. Eventually.
Because he is a plague, but he is a necessary one. And he'll do this world a favor.
He wonders why he never gets a thank you. ]
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I wonder. [ His tone is sharply teasing, morbidly curious. ] How do you live with yourself?
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Kakashi hadn't even managed to gather himself together enough to figure out how the hell to respond to the shit (and it is shit, it is shit because Pain doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about, doesn't know Sasuke, doesn't know anything, and thinks he does -- Pain thinks he is a god but he is just a man, just a man, just a man) that Pain spewed at him and expected him to swallow, when this little comment came creeping along and Kakashi's already angry, trying to control himself. Angry that he had this dream in the first place, and angrier that everyone saw it, and angriest most of all that he can't control the things that go on in his head when he closes his eyes and tries to sleep at night and everyone can reach in, beyond the mask and see--
(Everything.)
He abruptly stops thinking. When he is not thinking it is better than when he is. He makes himself think of things that are not Sasuke. That are not Pain talking shit at him and the confusion of not knowing what the hell it was he dreamed in the first place and the fear that makes him not want to check his Hitomi to remind himself what exactly it is that goes on in his head when he can't control himself.
Well fuck.
He doesn't like the way this stranger sounds. And he knows which stranger this is, too, because he spent some time tossing voice comments back and forth. Bantering. Trying to figure out just what this guy was all about.
It's obvious enough. ]
What does it matter to you.
[ It doesn't matter, and Kakashi knows this, but he's pissed off enough that he'll respond. ]
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And that's enough.
He's hunched over his device, shoulders tense as he squeezes his fingers around the hard casing. His heart hasn't settled yet, nor has the pounding in his head, but this little bit of familiarity is enough to ground him, enough to have him refocusing. ]
I'm just concerned. [ And doesn't he just sound it? ] It's not healthy to keep everything in like that.
You should find an outlet.
[ Preferably an explosive one. ]
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There is just too much going on inside of his head and his thoughts are running like the way the dream was running out of control and unstoppable and god, what the hell was he doing dreaming about Sasuke like that?
Kakashi draws a breath in and lets it out. Slowly. Draws up his control (because he feels a little too wired, a little too on the edge and ready to snap) and pulls down the anger and the frustration and tucks it behind the mask, where no one can see or hear it. He swallows it down the way he swallows everything else, makes his voice into a mask too. ]
An outlet, hmm?
[ And his voice, it is light and indifferent and just perfectly careless. ]
It was just a dream, you know.
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The corner of Mukuro's mouth twitches up, just a little, and he tips his head back, peering up through leafy branches to gaze idly at the skies above. And maybe if he hadn't been talking to someone like Mukuro, someone not necessarily human but familiar with humans nonetheless, his little attempt at covering his tracks might have worked.
As it is, Mukuro knows how these games go. Except it's probably not really a game, not to Kakashi, not when he's pulling back and locking down. That's a defense mechanism; he's wrapping his feelings tight into a hard shell to protect himself. The real game is prying them all out.
Mukuro draws his hand away from his Hitomi again, and though he's still looking up, watching the wind disturb the willowy branches, his question is directed down to the device, to Kakashi. ]
You don't believe that dreams have meanings?
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And this man, he wants to hear the words come out of his mouth: that dreams have meaning, that he should pay closer attention when he'd rather not. He is fishing for something, wants to find something vulnerable, so he can plunge his fingers into it where they don't belong. ]
Do you?
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I must commend your talent on asking such insightful questions.
[ And angering all of the right people, certainly. Pain likes him. ]
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