A maelstrom of thoughts and feelings, much like the most minute atoms which tumbled around in the chaos that lay just beneath the notice of the most plain and unversal perception, a mixture of loss and suffering hit him again. Delicate emotional stability had been disrupted, less idea stirrings had been unsettled. Curiousity, hurt, and guilt boiled to the surface in a festival of misery.
Sometimes wishing nothing more than to be an animal bereft of reasoning or abstract thought, to live purely in the moment and be appreciated for whom or what he was. Deep down he knew he was the sole architect of seeding uncertainty of himself toward himself. Though his question was more or less answered, he ound rejection as one whom he considered might be more attuned to the reality of their lot, found himself revisited by a pain he had known all too well as the one known as Yuna took off, clearly disgusted by his presence.
"It is to be expected, yes. Wise are those to leave cursed ones be." So he thought, secured in the privacy of his thoughts, watching her depart only with a glance befoore turning to the other one. She was far more incomprehensible to him, as he cocked his head inquisitively like a raven at the item of it's curiousity. "Eh? Glasiator's aren't without their tricks, yes? Hooks, nets, sheets of bronze and steel?" He challenged her remark, without very well finding offense in her not-so-thinly veiled contempt for him or others who identified is Shinobi. He had hatred for anything but traitors, which was a terribly complex emotional issue he was under no uncertain terms unwilling to bring up.
This one who had stayed had earned some degree of esteem in his eyes, starved for the stimulation of human socialiization though before he could get too excited the words of another echoed through the void of his mind making cause for hesitation. Naturally he was destined to hurt, suffer, feel the crushing pain of his anomolous and undeserved life. "Koga Akane, eh? A pleasure of sorts...I would have done the same to any comrade, a debt of charity I will always pay back for the adequate treatment a few soulds have bestowed upon this wretch~." His voice sweetly exclaimed with a his somewhat deep voice, though he didn't really care enough to notice a difference in her mannerisms or appearance of fashion from those of the typical Kumo person, no. She was simply a human who, until he had adequate reason to ever believe she was a threat to herself or anyone else, a peer such as he.
Sukejuro sighed, part of his wanted a protege even if it was inappropriate for such a lowly creature as he to spread his knowledge and phyilosophical trappings. As she recalled not knowing whom the other was, he would shrug "I don't really know anyone. I avoid such...places." He'd admit, as he he had spend much of his time scanning the room through the smudged glass sockets, listening to so many heartbeats, peering at those that stared at him, uncomfortable with him.
Turning back with a sudden, ever so slight turn of his head "Maybe she will be back? She seemed interesting, weirdos can be nice, but being nice is easy, any wicked sorts can pretend to be saints? Much harder to accept being anything less, no?" He questioned, as he slid his hands up, along his ears, hooking and unlocking the tight grip of his helmet, vefore sliding a mouthpiece out from underneath, hooked to. hoses in some intricate dust filtration respirator. Pale skin that saw little lightof day was exposed so that the act of nourishment could commence.
"Everything is never as it seems, all we can do is accept that and appreciate the fleeting moments of warmth til~..."
He paused to partake in the warmth of his meal as he managed to angle the lenses in an angle to catch her eres with the glow of his red ones, speaking much on ones mortality if she caught what he was getting at. He probably said more than he preferred, considering some asanine and idiotic things to follow up, to reassume the mantle of the fool before he ruined his fascade altogether.
