[ If he had much humanity left that wasn't burnt to the ground, yet to be rebuilt in the Utopia he's planning on crafting, Mikado might slip out of that swirling black cloud for long enough to remark at how simple it is to be fully consumed by it, enough so that he can barely tell what he's doing.
...At this point, he can't say that he understands Izaya's love of humans at all. They're too... fragile. There's nothing really interested or exciting in how simply that life can be taken from them. Not... so much anymore, really. At first, he'd stood there for what felt like ten years, hands trembling and corners of his mouth turned up at what he could do. At what he did.
Now, there's barely any note at all - Let alone emotion - in how swiftly he can drive a steak knife into a man's windpipe. ]
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...At this point, he can't say that he understands Izaya's love of humans at all. They're too... fragile. There's nothing really interested or exciting in how simply that life can be taken from them. Not... so much anymore, really. At first, he'd stood there for what felt like ten years, hands trembling and corners of his mouth turned up at what he could do. At what he did.
Now, there's barely any note at all - Let alone emotion - in how swiftly he can drive a steak knife into a man's windpipe. ]