it’s lit
Whatever Naoya has done, it peels back every last layer he’s meticulously stacked to seem effortless. His fingers jolt and tingle, and the shockwave stirs up something in his mind.
The raw energy elicits a boastful laugh which appears free from the fae magic’s constraints. Akira clutches his sides as blue flames emerge behind him; Arsène’s ethereal form follows suit and he holds out a hand like an invitation to watch the show.
“You underestimate us. I am neither gift nor weapon, but an arbiter sent to judge those who’ve yet to pay their penance. For what reason have you sought me out?”
Semen Kongou’s laughter echoes in his chest and he materialises in a crackle of raw power and a gust of wind. The Rakshasa’s form is curved and relaxed in contrast to Arsene’s bold shower of strength.
Naoya is bonded with his personae in a way that runs deep. Semen Kongou is an Emperor and Naoya is too; he wrestles with the overwhemling feeling to see Arsene and -by extension- Akira submit to his elder and stronger will (”He’s a simple fool, what does he know?”) but, it’s tempered by Naoya’s personal desire to see Akira well, a strange paternal feeling he’s only felt a few times before. So strides forward to support the physically overwhelmed Akira and cast a wordless “dia” through his open palm into Akira’s being.
“You alright?” he asks, “I’m- He’s normally a lot better than this. But he kinda grows a mind of his own here.”
Naoya shoots a look at his Persona, who simply stares back at him before addressing Arsene.
“You know nothing. I have lived Thousands of years and will live Thousands more. A simple will made manifest is nothing in the face of eternity.”
“Uh, in case you forgot, you are a “simple will made manifest” too dumbass.”
Semen Kongou ignores him.
“I sought you out because I tire of idle banter. Your host wears entirely too many masks, Arene Lupin.”
