"are you fuckin' jokin'?" he's got jimmy's blood on his hands. he looks up at him in anger, presuming these are his last seconds in the quiet eye of the storm, and he regifts that blood, printing it red and wet across the unstained side seams of his shirt.

beverly takes firm hold, but doesn't dig his heels in. if jimmy wants to move, he'll just slide along behind him.

"do you see now?" polished shoes are now dirtied by the other's blood splattered along the ground; what a pity for his beautiful clothes to now be ruined by the other's filthy crimson. he steps forward, a disinterested look on his features, "you're breakable as you are, although perhaps your audacity can be useful to me yet."

"i know the darkness when i see it," it was his only comfort during those uncertain and unforgiving nights; the only existence that wrought the destruction he craved. it was interesting seeing a monster's face who warped as his own — but hers' seemed to be permanently fixed in such a horrific way.

it was soothing.

and amaterasu was rarely placed in a position where she hesitated to act. however, in the presence of the moon-marked demon — a low, miserable whine leaves her. she could sense evil unlike anything else in her spirit — but unlike the common imp, or even the great orochi, there was... complexity to her.

and it was from that complexity, amaterasu does not strike her down. instead, she stands and looks at kokushibō with an element of understanding. she could see so plainly; it was not her choice that she became this way.

so amaterasu's head bows in both respect and humility; she decides to spare the demon.