Laskt nodded slightly at Takehiko’s comment, a strange look flickering across his face for a second before vanishing, “Oui…we both did have a rough time of it. You did save a lot of lives zough Takehiko, zat Kido was somezing to see.”
He said softly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. The boy seemed rather chipper considering the extent to which he had been wounded. Perhaps it was the fact that he had accomplished something in that battle that allowed him to shake off the memories of that battle….
He snapped back to reality as the Kuchkiki continued to disparage his performance in Beijing, to which Laskt responded by gripping the boy’s shoulder. “Mon ami, you were amazing! You alone held off most of ze horde while I failed and succumbed to my utter weakness and lust for ze fight! If you were not zere, zen we would have likely all died!”p
Laskt said fervently, trying to prevent his friend from slipping into dark thoughts he did not deserve. “On top of zat, if you had not summoned ze medical corps, I would likely have died zere!”
He concluded, trying not to reflect on the reason he would have died on those destroyed streets. For anyone who knew the knight, getting this many words at once out of him was unheard of, let alone praise!
Laskt would sit down next to the boy, feeling pressured by Takehiko’s newfound strength. The boy had grown so much in such a short span of time, and on top of that he was actively refining his raw power into improving his techniques. It was inspiring to watch, if only he could-
Laskt shook his head, cutting off the thought as it formed, and instead listening to Takehiko as the kid explained what they had come here to do. The knight watched in amazement as the Vizard perfectly formed and fired a powerful cero, obliterating one of the training dummies at the far end of the field. His friend’s spiritual power had evolved into something with dark majesty, feeling more and more like a Hollows. Despite himself, Laskt was impressed at the boy’s control: he was clearly becoming a force to be reckoned with.
That’s when his friend asked him to try.
Laskt’s hands shook, dark energy spiraling off them and forming a dark horned helmet, runes glowing on most of the mask’s surface. He stared deep into the mask’s eye slits, the warrior’s breath coming faster and memories flashing before his eyes. Two Vizards standing opposite of one other across a broken street. Both losing to their inner demons, one falling forevermore. Hopelessness, loss of sanity, failure, fear.
The man’s hand twitched, crushing the mask into powder that soon drifted off in the breeze. He then buried his face in his hands, a muffled sob sneaking through the gaps in his fingers.