[The motions don’t stop. Maybe she is weak for taking comfort from such a thing, for being lonely enough that even that amount of touch sparks and warms her made-cold hearts and the stiff steel of her muscles, but… if she stops caressing him, if he stops holding her hands…
The bubble might burst. The tether of shared energy between them might finally snap. And she doesn’t want… she wishes…
Hayame doesn’t really remember how to smile. The corners of her lips feel strained, as if unused to such a position, trying to remember when the last time she had done it fully, properly, had been. When her brother had handed her the arrows he’d made before their last mission… ? Months and months and worlds ago. But the image Amos conjures up…
That village of orphans would have been like that, if she hadn’t come to it. If she hadn’t ruined everything. Those children would have grown up and had children of their own. They farmed the land, gathered from the forest, hunted in the mountains… it had been a simple life, but they could have been happy like that. If they’d been able to avoid the fires of war and the greed of humans intent on power… they’d have had parents, too. They wouldn’t have had to run and hide.
Hayame swallows. Her fingers slow on the rub along his cheekbone, but they don’t stop. The half-smile on her face grows a bit more like a real one, even if it’s bittersweet and full of knowing… this was just a dream. If she believes in this, she has to believe her own world is gone… and she can’t let herself do that.]
I can’t say I ever pictured you as a farmer.
[Her voice is quiet. Reflective. Doing him the service of trying to imagine it, even if it is a dream she cannot allow to happen. If it even could happen.]
I guess it’s not so hard to picture, though…
[A world full of… well, his just had humans, didn’t it. There wouldn’t be any place for people like her. It would be silly to even ask-]
I don’t suppose there would be a place for someone like me… ?
[A jinba or a warrior or a slave that tried to be free… she doesn’t say. She’s going to die in her own world where she belongs or a demon or someone else she’s made an enemy of will shatter her shard in this one. … It doesn’t matter.]
no subject
The bubble might burst. The tether of shared energy between them might finally snap. And she doesn’t want… she wishes…
Hayame doesn’t really remember how to smile. The corners of her lips feel strained, as if unused to such a position, trying to remember when the last time she had done it fully, properly, had been. When her brother had handed her the arrows he’d made before their last mission… ? Months and months and worlds ago. But the image Amos conjures up…
That village of orphans would have been like that, if she hadn’t come to it. If she hadn’t ruined everything. Those children would have grown up and had children of their own. They farmed the land, gathered from the forest, hunted in the mountains… it had been a simple life, but they could have been happy like that. If they’d been able to avoid the fires of war and the greed of humans intent on power… they’d have had parents, too. They wouldn’t have had to run and hide.
Hayame swallows. Her fingers slow on the rub along his cheekbone, but they don’t stop. The half-smile on her face grows a bit more like a real one, even if it’s bittersweet and full of knowing… this was just a dream. If she believes in this, she has to believe her own world is gone… and she can’t let herself do that.]
I can’t say I ever pictured you as a farmer.
[Her voice is quiet. Reflective. Doing him the service of trying to imagine it, even if it is a dream she cannot allow to happen. If it even could happen.]
I guess it’s not so hard to picture, though…
[A world full of… well, his just had humans, didn’t it. There wouldn’t be any place for people like her. It would be silly to even ask-]
I don’t suppose there would be a place for someone like me… ?
[A jinba or a warrior or a slave that tried to be free… she doesn’t say. She’s going to die in her own world where she belongs or a demon or someone else she’s made an enemy of will shatter her shard in this one. … It doesn’t matter.]