[Maybe it still wouldn’t count, really, when she had not seen them out in the world and saw them only as conjured impression and enshrined memories of a god of war that had crept into part of her mind… But she would never have the chance to see the true thing. There was no chance to travel to the coast and see with her own eyes the wide ocean and bright sands there… not when she would die the day after she returned to her world. So she will take what she gets.
She will cleave her path through those gathered in the main ritual chamber, her aggressive stance and foul expression enough to avoid questions or hails, and she will find the right tunnel through the roots and enter, hooves echoing softly every now and then on harder patches of earth as she grows closer. She should correct him, she should admit that her mind wasn’t free… that even now she found herself falling back on the ways of the breeding stables or how she had always thought, because the shackles… they were familiar. Until a month before her arrival in Horos, they were all she’d ever known- like the fetters had been on her ankles so long that she’d started to think that the weight of them was just natural.
It is not so easily undone. But she says nothing to it. Instead, as she grows closer, as she comes to sense his presence with senses beyond just Communion—]
You came to me in the Hall of Mirrors.
[As much as she hates the reminder of her own weakness, how bruised and exhausted she had been then, unable to rise from the ice or do much more than shift to assist as he bandaged the cut across her chest… she reminds him. He could have taken advantage then… but he did not. So-]
Set.
[She can see him in the dark now, battered and bowed. Her voice sounds loud even though it is a whisper.]
no subject
[Maybe it still wouldn’t count, really, when she had not seen them out in the world and saw them only as conjured impression and enshrined memories of a god of war that had crept into part of her mind… But she would never have the chance to see the true thing. There was no chance to travel to the coast and see with her own eyes the wide ocean and bright sands there… not when she would die the day after she returned to her world. So she will take what she gets.
She will cleave her path through those gathered in the main ritual chamber, her aggressive stance and foul expression enough to avoid questions or hails, and she will find the right tunnel through the roots and enter, hooves echoing softly every now and then on harder patches of earth as she grows closer. She should correct him, she should admit that her mind wasn’t free… that even now she found herself falling back on the ways of the breeding stables or how she had always thought, because the shackles… they were familiar. Until a month before her arrival in Horos, they were all she’d ever known- like the fetters had been on her ankles so long that she’d started to think that the weight of them was just natural.
It is not so easily undone. But she says nothing to it. Instead, as she grows closer, as she comes to sense his presence with senses beyond just Communion—]
You came to me in the Hall of Mirrors.
[As much as she hates the reminder of her own weakness, how bruised and exhausted she had been then, unable to rise from the ice or do much more than shift to assist as he bandaged the cut across her chest… she reminds him. He could have taken advantage then… but he did not. So-]
Set.
[She can see him in the dark now, battered and bowed. Her voice sounds loud even though it is a whisper.]
What do you require of me?
[She is no healer. He knows that.]