[In the silences between her opponent's(?) pondering, Hayame is... trapped, between the instinctive anger and rejection that have marked her life in Horos and the discombobulating reality of coming to a world where people looked her in the eye and claimed that none of that mattered anymore. She cannot abide the weakness she finds in de-escalating or admitting to any sort of fault, and yet-
Her eyes bore into the other woman whether she matches her intensity or not. Whether she is angered, embarrassed, or ashamed of the gaps in that intensity or not. (And a part of her is, even if the only betrayal is in how her long black tail quivers behind her. If she's lucky, it will be mistaken for rage.)
But she gets an answer. One that sounds potentially useful, that comes with some sort of testimonial as to efficacy. Not an answer that could be spat upon... one that might allow her to save face. The "library" closest to Heliopolis. One dedicated to religions and worship of all worlds. If it was going to be anywhere, then...
Hayame will go there.
Suddenly, her hand leaves the bookshelf behind the former Kenoma's head. She straightens up from the intimidating lean over and steps back, her hooves too loud on the hardwood flooring now that the area had been largely vacated by people with sense of a potential fight. This is when most people would say "thank you". But Hayame is not most people... that's always been clear, largely for worse than for better.
But according to whatever sense of honor or manners that governs her... this Kenoma whose name she did not know, who had not done anything directly to her... had earned her reprieve. Just not her thanks. Not unless the Order of Numbers was in that distant hall.
Without only a last look and not another word... Hayame turns with a frustrated flick of tail and departs.
When the library's one security guard shows up a minute later... He's going to be a little confused, but. What's one little cracked wooden shelf?]
/gently wraps up in time for eVenT or new thread aaaa???
Her eyes bore into the other woman whether she matches her intensity or not. Whether she is angered, embarrassed, or ashamed of the gaps in that intensity or not. (And a part of her is, even if the only betrayal is in how her long black tail quivers behind her. If she's lucky, it will be mistaken for rage.)
But she gets an answer. One that sounds potentially useful, that comes with some sort of testimonial as to efficacy. Not an answer that could be spat upon... one that might allow her to save face. The "library" closest to Heliopolis. One dedicated to religions and worship of all worlds. If it was going to be anywhere, then...
Hayame will go there.
Suddenly, her hand leaves the bookshelf behind the former Kenoma's head. She straightens up from the intimidating lean over and steps back, her hooves too loud on the hardwood flooring now that the area had been largely vacated by people with sense of a potential fight. This is when most people would say "thank you". But Hayame is not most people... that's always been clear, largely for worse than for better.
But according to whatever sense of honor or manners that governs her... this Kenoma whose name she did not know, who had not done anything directly to her... had earned her reprieve. Just not her thanks. Not unless the Order of Numbers was in that distant hall.
Without only a last look and not another word... Hayame turns with a frustrated flick of tail and departs.
When the library's one security guard shows up a minute later... He's going to be a little confused, but. What's one little cracked wooden shelf?]