Maruki let out a long sigh, leaning back against the seat as he tugged his hood down, dark hair falling messily into place. He tilted his head slightly, watching Ichinose with that same faintly amused, almost knowing look.
"Well, if Azathoth is anything to go by, I guess I’d have to say awakening to a Persona is like hitting an epiphany so hard it hits back," he quipped, lips twitching with dry humor.
He shifted slightly, his fingers idly tracing the seam of his sleeve as he considered how best to explain it. There was something inherently fascinating about it—the very mechanics of how Personas worked, how the mind and cognition twisted and reformed itself under duress.
"As far as my experience goes, Personas exist in both the real world and the cognitive world," he began, tone slipping into something more thoughtful, more academic. "It’s like...a voice. Not just any voice, though. It’s yours, but stripped of all the little hesitations, the compromises, the external conditioning we pick up over time. If the psyche is a house of mirrors, a Persona is the one mirror that doesn’t distort. It’s your unfiltered self—raw, primal, and completely certain."
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Which, let’s be honest, is probably why so many awakenings are traumatic. Most people spend their whole lives running from their deepest truths, not embracing them."
A beat passed before he smirked faintly. "And yet, we summon them to battle with them, of all things. Classic human nature, huh? Fighting ourselves while insisting we’re in control."
He let that linger for a second before he leaned back, stretching slightly. "Now, in theory, Personas should only function in the cognitive world—they’re projections of the mind, after all. But, well..." He gestured vaguely, as if to say *look at me*. "Exceptions exist. I’m living proof."
His golden eye gleamed slightly, the faintest ripple of something not-entirely-human flickering across it before settling again.
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"Well, if Azathoth is anything to go by, I guess I’d have to say awakening to a Persona is like hitting an epiphany so hard it hits back," he quipped, lips twitching with dry humor.
He shifted slightly, his fingers idly tracing the seam of his sleeve as he considered how best to explain it. There was something inherently fascinating about it—the very mechanics of how Personas worked, how the mind and cognition twisted and reformed itself under duress.
"As far as my experience goes, Personas exist in both the real world and the cognitive world," he began, tone slipping into something more thoughtful, more academic. "It’s like...a voice. Not just any voice, though. It’s yours, but stripped of all the little hesitations, the compromises, the external conditioning we pick up over time. If the psyche is a house of mirrors, a Persona is the one mirror that doesn’t distort. It’s your unfiltered self—raw, primal, and completely certain."
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Which, let’s be honest, is probably why so many awakenings are traumatic. Most people spend their whole lives running from their deepest truths, not embracing them."
A beat passed before he smirked faintly. "And yet, we summon them to battle with them, of all things. Classic human nature, huh? Fighting ourselves while insisting we’re in control."
He let that linger for a second before he leaned back, stretching slightly. "Now, in theory, Personas should only function in the cognitive world—they’re projections of the mind, after all. But, well..." He gestured vaguely, as if to say *look at me*. "Exceptions exist. I’m living proof."
His golden eye gleamed slightly, the faintest ripple of something not-entirely-human flickering across it before settling again.