Mikleo ventures out a few times while the exorcist slept, during curfew hours, the recovery room deserted by all except for the feverish patients and the occasional staff wandering through to complete their checks. When all is quiet he lets himself out of the boy's body and stands at his bedside, staring down at the sleeping face. Experimentally he tries to will himself to reach a hand out- to touch, at first, or to bind his captor to the bed, perhaps. His body refuses to move. He tries to speak, but no words come.
He's been left with no orders. He doesn't know what to do when he has no orders.
The exorcist stirs on the bed, his skin flushed with fever, and his chin lifts, exposing a fragile, unprotected neck. Mikleo stares at it, hands twitching at his sides, watching a trickle of sweat slide down the arc of the boy's chin. It would only take a minute. The exorcist is so weak like this. Without the tether, he might be able to get away.
You will obey.
His body resists him, immobile for three hours until he surrenders. Quietly he withdraws back into the exorcist’s soul and does nothing for three days.
He's still drifting like that when he feels a tug at his consciousness, when they're elsewhere and alone. The words don't sound like a command - it's not phrased properly for that - but he manifests himself anyway, just in case. The human looks better today. Healthy again, comfortable in his own skin.
He's missed his chance.
“...Do you have orders for me?” he murmurs, quiet and unsure. This is unfamiliar territory. He's not conditioned on how to respond to what he wants or how he feels.
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momijizukamori
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Date: 2017-03-31 08:27 pm (UTC)He's been left with no orders. He doesn't know what to do when he has no orders.
The exorcist stirs on the bed, his skin flushed with fever, and his chin lifts, exposing a fragile, unprotected neck. Mikleo stares at it, hands twitching at his sides, watching a trickle of sweat slide down the arc of the boy's chin. It would only take a minute. The exorcist is so weak like this. Without the tether, he might be able to get away.
You will obey.
His body resists him, immobile for three hours until he surrenders. Quietly he withdraws back into the exorcist’s soul and does nothing for three days.
He's still drifting like that when he feels a tug at his consciousness, when they're elsewhere and alone. The words don't sound like a command - it's not phrased properly for that - but he manifests himself anyway, just in case. The human looks better today. Healthy again, comfortable in his own skin.
He's missed his chance.
“...Do you have orders for me?” he murmurs, quiet and unsure. This is unfamiliar territory. He's not conditioned on how to respond to what he wants or how he feels.