[He says he actions will earn her enemies… and Hayame almost (almost) remembers how to laugh. As if she had not already made enemies with countless members of her own faction? As if she was not already treated like some sort of ignorant beast or a violent pariah? She scoffs, her lips twisting into a sneer that could almost be mistaken for a smile.]

Those enemies ought to thank me for assuring their moments of weakness do not count toward a Zenith victory.

[But she said “ought to” and not “will” because she knows that no one will thank her. Even once they come back to Meridian, (and surely they will come back, once this mess is ended), she doubts anyone will be grateful, despite how necessary it was. How many traitors does she need to kill to make sure Zenith doesn’t corrupt enough to win the Oracle? How many Zenith does she have to kill to regain the numbers lost? Someone has to do it… and that someone has to start somewhere.

Like by suddenly lashing out and grabbing the human-looking man by the head, fingers digging in to grip, hard, as the sound of the sunbeam bead bouncing off roots sounds faintly further down the tunnel.]

You might want to reconsider that title, King Undying.

[His eyes do not scare her, as freakish as they should be. She has seen a similar set in a much more honorable man… one she’d caught this one whispering to. He feels wrong and worth shuddering for in communion… but she refuses to let that affect her grip or the snarl of disgust on her face. The demon had been in her head enough. Let him be inhuman by nature.

It didn’t change that he was only human now.

And for a jinba, who might look human in some parts but who were made up a vastly different musculature beneath… it was no effort at all to lift the so-called King from the ground with one hand, her grip beginning to tighten… tighten…]

Traitors don’t get to dictate how they perish.

[Tighten, until she reaches the force where bone begins to scream and creak.]