[The first few days, she had not noticed. Chance or perhaps design had kept her from encountering the demon and the one-eyed gaki in Springstar, and the existence and safety of the god of war to whom she had pledged her violence was confirmed only with the presence of his mind in communion entwining at the border of hers, that place where desert sand lapped like waves against the cold of snowy mountain rocks.
In the ritual room, there is nowhere to hide. She sees who speaks to who, who cleaves to who… enough to confront a demon who she began to suspect was masquerading as a Meridian. Enough to nearly kill that demon easily, in the depowered state they all found themselves in that had made a jinba into perhaps the most physically powerful shard-bearer around.
That demon might still live by the grace of those that had held her back, but he now had one less eye. He wanted to consider them “even”? That was even.
But she does not address the god of war. She freezes him out, she turns her gaze from him for fear that if she doesn’t she will strangle the life out of him amongst the depowered. It isn’t until the Oracle makes clear the terms of engagement that Hayame actually appears at the border of sand and snow, her form in communion untenable and blurry with the muddled mix of Zenith and Meridian, the squall of other heightened communions that tear at her attention, the haunting visions of the worst parts of her world not saving. But she is furious enough to maintain her identity, for her hooves to paw restlessly at the sand, to snap and snarl into the desert air-]
FOR SET ➳ THAT WHICH IS DONE IN THE SHADOWS ➳ 闇に行うことはいつか照らされる
In the ritual room, there is nowhere to hide. She sees who speaks to who, who cleaves to who… enough to confront a demon who she began to suspect was masquerading as a Meridian. Enough to nearly kill that demon easily, in the depowered state they all found themselves in that had made a jinba into perhaps the most physically powerful shard-bearer around.
That demon might still live by the grace of those that had held her back, but he now had one less eye. He wanted to consider them “even”? That was even.
But she does not address the god of war. She freezes him out, she turns her gaze from him for fear that if she doesn’t she will strangle the life out of him amongst the depowered. It isn’t until the Oracle makes clear the terms of engagement that Hayame actually appears at the border of sand and snow, her form in communion untenable and blurry with the muddled mix of Zenith and Meridian, the squall of other heightened communions that tear at her attention, the haunting visions of the worst parts of her world not saving. But she is furious enough to maintain her identity, for her hooves to paw restlessly at the sand, to snap and snarl into the desert air-]
What have you done, war god?