[Hayame had never in her life imagined having a friend. She'd had a half-brother, who if she had allowed it (if she could have allowed it) would have been that for her, but a "friend"? When she imagined her life in the breeding stables, a future that was the best she could hope for in the confines of that life... she had perhaps hoped to have reliable allies. A master that a warrior (enslaved jinba) could be proud to serve. Friends-
Is that really something that she could stand? Continuing on hating so many of the things that this god chose to do- ? Dishonorable things, things that to her seemed so foolish and risky, things that brought him into the shadows more to the light- She hated it. Why wouldn't he just choose honor- ?
But she knows he isn't wrong. What he says about adapting. She has always known in a deep part of herself that she made her own life in Horos in Kenos harder by resisting the need to change. She was stubborn, she was medieval in her upbringing and thinking, and change... change felt too much like giving in. Like accepting that this truly was her life now, she was well and truly trapped.
If this was the outside world, if she was face to face with him... this wouldn't be happening. Her rage couldn't be tamed from without, her prejudices and bitterness were far too strong, but in here... her hearts are laid bare. He speaks to a soul and not to a woman, and that soul, beneath the anger and the ice and the violence... yearns to be accepted. He pushes away the patch that she uses to hide her injury even from herself in her own mind and she cannot- She cannot stop him. When she had demanded his blessing as a god of war in order to assure Meridian's victory, she had never imagined that they might come here. That he might be demanding instead that they be friends.
But if they were going to be that-
Her hand reaches out to brush into his crimson mane- the same locks that she brushed her violence through when she offered him the worship she had promised. She still owes him the demon, but first... her fingers curl around a streak of his hair, much like he had when he had claimed her as his. She had assumed that it would continue like that- he would be a god, and she would be his avatar, a weapon, but-]
Then you are mine.
[As much as she hates, she will not abandon him. If he is her "friend", whatever the hell that meant...
Then she will not let go of his hair until a few of the strands have turned jet black.]
no subject
Is that really something that she could stand? Continuing on hating so many of the things that this god chose to do- ? Dishonorable things, things that to her seemed so foolish and risky, things that brought him into the shadows more to the light- She hated it. Why wouldn't he just choose honor- ?
But she knows he isn't wrong. What he says about adapting. She has always known in a deep part of herself that she made her own life in Horos in Kenos harder by resisting the need to change. She was stubborn, she was medieval in her upbringing and thinking, and change... change felt too much like giving in. Like accepting that this truly was her life now, she was well and truly trapped.
If this was the outside world, if she was face to face with him... this wouldn't be happening. Her rage couldn't be tamed from without, her prejudices and bitterness were far too strong, but in here... her hearts are laid bare. He speaks to a soul and not to a woman, and that soul, beneath the anger and the ice and the violence... yearns to be accepted. He pushes away the patch that she uses to hide her injury even from herself in her own mind and she cannot- She cannot stop him. When she had demanded his blessing as a god of war in order to assure Meridian's victory, she had never imagined that they might come here. That he might be demanding instead that they be friends.
But if they were going to be that-
Her hand reaches out to brush into his crimson mane- the same locks that she brushed her violence through when she offered him the worship she had promised. She still owes him the demon, but first... her fingers curl around a streak of his hair, much like he had when he had claimed her as his. She had assumed that it would continue like that- he would be a god, and she would be his avatar, a weapon, but-]
Then you are mine.
[As much as she hates, she will not abandon him. If he is her "friend", whatever the hell that meant...
Then she will not let go of his hair until a few of the strands have turned jet black.]