[ The way muscles heal has him wanting to flex them, to test them, but his body instinctively warns him against it. The frame holding tissue in place is still broken even if it's aligned, and to try would be to again worsen his problems. Foolish... This whole thing, this entire situation he's gotten himself into and his childish way of coping with it. ]
Why my– [ He glances up, cutting himself off when he makes eye contact. ]
... different shinobi are born with different potential. Some even have unique techniques available to them which are impossible for others to learn, and which are passed down through blood. I have one myself, and I utilize it through sight. It's far stronger than anything I could do with my limbs.
And they were right to do what they did; I understand and accept that. I was confused back then, and the things I did needed an answer.
(taken aback at the eye contact, not expecting it for reasons he can't define. jonas holds his gaze for one, two, three long moments before looking away with an inexplicable tightness in his throat.)
So that's what Stiles was talking about. When he said your powers freaked him out. Like, "physics-breaking," right? (it gives him ideas on how to proceed, but is he strong enough to?
all his life he's avoided consequences. that's what landed him in jail, edwards island, here. instead of letting things happen as they may, unfolding organically instead of getting placed on a permanent shelf in the back of his mind, jonas always has to delay the inevitable. he didn't reach out to his dad to cope with his mother's illness, he didn't make peace with her before she died, he didn't tell alex he wasn't feeling a campout party with her random friends, he didn't, he didn't, he didn't.
before he dies, he needs to. jonas wants to say that he did, hands holding sasuke's flush between his as the healing process continues and strengthens through direct touch.
his exhale wavers. the ill feeling creeping up the back of his neck already has some idea of what to expect, remembering their conversation by the fire.) Sasuke, what'd you do, man?
[ He wants to pull his hand back. Even the mention of his powers in that lighting feels like an extra examination he's not prepared for, raw as he currently is in the wake of an uncomfortable apology and conversation. Still, it's Jonas that looks away first and it prepares him to steel his voice, to finally address the accusations he was waiting for. Sure enough, they come, but true to Jonas it's a quiet question instead of a condemnation. A chance for him to tell his side.
But sides are only for motivations; actions are facts. ]
I defected from the village where I was born. Instead of staying with them I joined a man I knew was a criminal in order to increase my power, and when I got the chance I turned on him too. Back then it didn't matter to me what I needed to do, or who I needed to cross.
I attacked and tried to kidnap the brother of a world leader, and later when that man and an enemy of mine were at a political summit, I attacked that as well. I killed anyone who got in my way and planned to destroy my old village itself... to that end instigating a war.
The only reason I'm still alive is because I didn't succeed in doing half of what I planned, because I ended that same war, and because I had connections that vouched for me.
(every sentence, every word, every syllable gets worse as sasuke recounts his misdeeds.
"misdeeds," no. his crimes against humanity.
jonas' ability stutters into dark, leaving the hands covering sasuke's muggy in a flash sweat that heats him to the ears. they ring, drowning any explanation that follows his confession to a series of coldblooded murders, making him focus instead on his mouth. his own, dry; his tongue, thick; his throat, tight enough that his next swallow's loud. anyone who got in his way. anyone. men, women, children? who? why? why?
he considers staying to bravely ask questions, trying to cut to the core of the problem to glean some understanding from an issue so daunting he's been rendered speechless. then jonas remembers that he already went through this before, his curiosity damning him to oblivion. from his own mouth, "courage is not always the way, dear," soul too weak to resist being a puppet to the sunken. he's afraid; this time there's no one stopping him from quickly removing himself from the situation.
getting up, jonas murmurs something inaudible beneath his breath and turns to leave.)
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no subject
Why my– [ He glances up, cutting himself off when he makes eye contact. ]
... different shinobi are born with different potential. Some even have unique techniques available to them which are impossible for others to learn, and which are passed down through blood. I have one myself, and I utilize it through sight. It's far stronger than anything I could do with my limbs.
And they were right to do what they did; I understand and accept that. I was confused back then, and the things I did needed an answer.
no subject
So that's what Stiles was talking about. When he said your powers freaked him out. Like, "physics-breaking," right? (it gives him ideas on how to proceed, but is he strong enough to?
all his life he's avoided consequences. that's what landed him in jail, edwards island, here. instead of letting things happen as they may, unfolding organically instead of getting placed on a permanent shelf in the back of his mind, jonas always has to delay the inevitable. he didn't reach out to his dad to cope with his mother's illness, he didn't make peace with her before she died, he didn't tell alex he wasn't feeling a campout party with her random friends, he didn't, he didn't, he didn't.
before he dies, he needs to. jonas wants to say that he did, hands holding sasuke's flush between his as the healing process continues and strengthens through direct touch.
his exhale wavers. the ill feeling creeping up the back of his neck already has some idea of what to expect, remembering their conversation by the fire.) Sasuke, what'd you do, man?
no subject
But sides are only for motivations; actions are facts. ]
I defected from the village where I was born. Instead of staying with them I joined a man I knew was a criminal in order to increase my power, and when I got the chance I turned on him too. Back then it didn't matter to me what I needed to do, or who I needed to cross.
I attacked and tried to kidnap the brother of a world leader, and later when that man and an enemy of mine were at a political summit, I attacked that as well. I killed anyone who got in my way and planned to destroy my old village itself... to that end instigating a war.
The only reason I'm still alive is because I didn't succeed in doing half of what I planned, because I ended that same war, and because I had connections that vouched for me.
no subject
"misdeeds," no. his crimes against humanity.
jonas' ability stutters into dark, leaving the hands covering sasuke's muggy in a flash sweat that heats him to the ears. they ring, drowning any explanation that follows his confession to a series of coldblooded murders, making him focus instead on his mouth. his own, dry; his tongue, thick; his throat, tight enough that his next swallow's loud. anyone who got in his way. anyone. men, women, children? who? why? why?
he considers staying to bravely ask questions, trying to cut to the core of the problem to glean some understanding from an issue so daunting he's been rendered speechless. then jonas remembers that he already went through this before, his curiosity damning him to oblivion. from his own mouth, "courage is not always the way, dear," soul too weak to resist being a puppet to the sunken. he's afraid; this time there's no one stopping him from quickly removing himself from the situation.
getting up, jonas murmurs something inaudible beneath his breath and turns to leave.)