[Pride had been all that Hayame had, once. Jinba in a breeding stable did not own the clothes on their backs, nor the weapons in their hands- if they were obedient and loyal enough to keep those hands. They did not govern their own time, choose their duties, or decide their price or buyer. She had clung to pride not just because she was able but because it was the only thing…
The only thing beyond the physical that separated from her from the pathetic Armless. But in Horos…
… Maybe pride was all she still had, again. Coming to this place, anything physical she had gained that meant something (a blade put in her hand during a time when she wanted control over anything, even if it was just her ability to attack or end her own life, a bow, a sacred book that wasn’t sacred at all to her, a… something, something she held in one hand, with dark hair and eerie eyes…), all of it had been made gone. The few people she had begun to just maybe, possibly care about in that place… many of them had been made gone, too.
And now she’s growling down at a woman in the bookshelves of a “library” unable to understand what makes her stand her ground this way, calm as if they spoke over tea and sweets. More importantly, unable to understand why the hell she seemed to think that she would ever work with a Kenoma.]
As if I’d ever work so foolishly with someone who served the Regent?
[She might claim that she was not Kenoma anymore, that it didn’t matter, but to Hayame… it matters a great deal. And the answer to that question continues to determine her actions, her body still taut and fairly vibrating with readiness to lash out.]
no subject
The only thing beyond the physical that separated from her from the pathetic Armless. But in Horos…
… Maybe pride was all she still had, again. Coming to this place, anything physical she had gained that meant something (a blade put in her hand during a time when she wanted control over anything, even if it was just her ability to attack or end her own life, a bow, a sacred book that wasn’t sacred at all to her, a… something, something she held in one hand, with dark hair and eerie eyes…), all of it had been made gone. The few people she had begun to just maybe, possibly care about in that place… many of them had been made gone, too.
And now she’s growling down at a woman in the bookshelves of a “library” unable to understand what makes her stand her ground this way, calm as if they spoke over tea and sweets. More importantly, unable to understand why the hell she seemed to think that she would ever work with a Kenoma.]
As if I’d ever work so foolishly with someone who served the Regent?
[She might claim that she was not Kenoma anymore, that it didn’t matter, but to Hayame… it matters a great deal. And the answer to that question continues to determine her actions, her body still taut and fairly vibrating with readiness to lash out.]