[If he searches for that mote in her hearts and her mind then he will find it, clearer than she has ever admitted to or explained in words now that the desperate thrash of bodies and the press of communions is ruled by fighting instinct. That village of orphans hidden in the mountains. Hordes of hunters gathering at the base. Her mistake laid bare, too late, far too late. An offer, a promise to pay with her life because it was all she had.
What can improving herself in this world do to change those circumstances? Once the magic in her body is gone with her shard, what can one woman do against those odds? There is nowhere to run. Jinba were stronger than humans, but humans had numbers. She and Matsukaze... they could kill so many. But they would be brought down eventually, and then that village would lose it's only two adults of fighting strength, the only ones capable of defending an Armless, a woman rounding with child, and orphans all less than thirteen years of age. She just can't see it, any future she might have had ruined by her own mistakes, and so to be told to just... just better herself somehow, just fix it, just hope, just find a different way...
The emotions of a god are overwhelming, spilling into her and threatening to drown her senses in his until she is gone, until she is nothing in the face of him, but Hayame's clash and claw and fight not to be lost. She turns the force of her desperation on the foreign power in Set's mind, she rips and she tears and she despises those Zenith eyes that want to make her nothing after she has fought so hard to be something, to be a warrior worthy of a god's blessing, to be Set's-
Set's friend.
She doesn't know what that means, she doesn't know how to do it, but once she is done turning her rage on the hand of that possessive shade, once she has pried those fingers loose and cast them aside with a snarl, don'ttouchhimletgogetback all rolled up into a single hateful, protective outburst, reminded all too clearly of the sick way Lord Miyatsuta had run his hands over Kohibari in the stables...
It's Set's hand she grabs, in their minds and without. Fierce and powerful and desperate and angry, she wrestles with him when he is half-formed, she struggles to come out on top, to pin him beneath her once he becomes solid, but not- not to conquer him. To stop him from hurting himself, to shield him from those cold, dead eyes-
The only one she has left widens in shock when she realizes what has happened. When she sees four more hooves and long legs and a sandy coat and feathery red socks and the way his human-like torso transitions seamlessly into equine shoulders.]
Tell me, then!
[His form had just changed, he looked just like a jinba, her voice breaks on the force of her words and cracks in his face. Her hold on his hand is tight and shaking and near breaking, her heavy body half-straddling his in a tangle of limbs and hair and tails-]
Return to me and come up with real ways that only the god of war can fathom! Show me how that strategic, diabolical mind that vexes me so will come up with a strategy to save a village from a hunting party without my sacrifice!
[And if he could do that... If he could stop listening to that thorny, dead-eyed ghost, if he could be better...
no subject
What can improving herself in this world do to change those circumstances? Once the magic in her body is gone with her shard, what can one woman do against those odds? There is nowhere to run. Jinba were stronger than humans, but humans had numbers. She and Matsukaze... they could kill so many. But they would be brought down eventually, and then that village would lose it's only two adults of fighting strength, the only ones capable of defending an Armless, a woman rounding with child, and orphans all less than thirteen years of age. She just can't see it, any future she might have had ruined by her own mistakes, and so to be told to just... just better herself somehow, just fix it, just hope, just find a different way...
The emotions of a god are overwhelming, spilling into her and threatening to drown her senses in his until she is gone, until she is nothing in the face of him, but Hayame's clash and claw and fight not to be lost. She turns the force of her desperation on the foreign power in Set's mind, she rips and she tears and she despises those Zenith eyes that want to make her nothing after she has fought so hard to be something, to be a warrior worthy of a god's blessing, to be Set's-
Set's friend.
She doesn't know what that means, she doesn't know how to do it, but once she is done turning her rage on the hand of that possessive shade, once she has pried those fingers loose and cast them aside with a snarl, don'ttouchhimletgogetback all rolled up into a single hateful, protective outburst, reminded all too clearly of the sick way Lord Miyatsuta had run his hands over Kohibari in the stables...
It's Set's hand she grabs, in their minds and without. Fierce and powerful and desperate and angry, she wrestles with him when he is half-formed, she struggles to come out on top, to pin him beneath her once he becomes solid, but not- not to conquer him. To stop him from hurting himself, to shield him from those cold, dead eyes-
The only one she has left widens in shock when she realizes what has happened. When she sees four more hooves and long legs and a sandy coat and feathery red socks and the way his human-like torso transitions seamlessly into equine shoulders.]
Tell me, then!
[His form had just changed, he looked just like a jinba, her voice breaks on the force of her words and cracks in his face. Her hold on his hand is tight and shaking and near breaking, her heavy body half-straddling his in a tangle of limbs and hair and tails-]
Return to me and come up with real ways that only the god of war can fathom! Show me how that strategic, diabolical mind that vexes me so will come up with a strategy to save a village from a hunting party without my sacrifice!
[And if he could do that... If he could stop listening to that thorny, dead-eyed ghost, if he could be better...
Maybe she could be better, too.]