[ asura kneels to start rummaging through orochi's cupboards, finding the pantry reassuringly full of familiar foods. it's clearly to orochi's tastes, however, not a single ghost pepper to be seen. still, he can work with this. he also locates some sake and uncorks it to drink straight from the bottle.

he listens to the snake god pontificate, melodramatic as ever, unsurprised when orochi does not give him space to answer before he finishes his speech. asura doesn't really care, though. he's not one to demand strict adherence to social norms. as long as people are good and well-meaning, he doesn't care how they go about it. of course, orochi is neither, but asura won't hold his flowery speech or vanity against him. ]

A love, then, [ he accepts simply, without question. love is not something ruled by reason. it is not inherently good or inherently bad. it simply is, as much a force of nature as anything. asura finds himself possessed of it even now, the love for all that was lost in taishakuten's betrayal burning him to ashes there in the cage of his chest, immolated anew with every memory of their time together in the sun.

if orochi says he has loved, then it is love. love need not be reciprocated either, to be real. these are all the hard-won lessons asura's time in the abyss has granted him. ]

I think you are capable of anything you set your eyes on, [ he goes on, pulling out braids of garlic and ginger roots, potatoes and green peppers, cured meats, eggs uncooked rice. ] And that makes what you are all the more revolting.