[Hayame isn't used to people smiling at her. She didn't tend to make people want to smile, let alone in her direction. ... It's nice. It's something she shouldn't care at all about, because what did a warrior mind if they were liked or they brought joy, and yet... After so much confusion, rage, and doubt swirling about in the ritual chamber, after beginning her time in the dank earth viciously stabbing out the eye of Sebastian Michaelis and dealing with the stares and looks that followed...
It is like a light, rather than the abyss of black she so often attributed to Zenith and its followers. For a moment... she basks in it.
And while their shards are at peace with each other, while the exchange of energies has made it so much easier to feel him... she lets herself believe that she isn't a traitor just for asking him the question that she had. For feeling relief when he says he will accept her, even if she only comes to him when she feels there is not a single ounce of hope left for a Meridian victory. Even if she wants her world back, even if she cannot even begin to think whose shard she would end up shamefully begging that Yima woman for, torn between her (half) blood brother and the man who had offered her a life lived free she regretted struggling to believe in...
Her fingers drop from his cheek and slide along the line of his jaw, slowly falling. She relinquishes her own shard fully into his hand so that she might take his fully into hers... and slip under the hem of his shirt so that she might carefully return it to where it belonged, nestled just above his heart. Later, a certain war god will demand she kill this man in exchange for what she demands of him... but she returns his vulnerable soul to him instead.]
... Let's stay just a little longer.
[Here in the depths of the tunnel, as far away from the main chamber and the chaotic press of bleeding communions and mingling voices as they could physically get...]
It's quiet here...
[And there will not be much more quiet to be had.]
no subject
It is like a light, rather than the abyss of black she so often attributed to Zenith and its followers. For a moment... she basks in it.
And while their shards are at peace with each other, while the exchange of energies has made it so much easier to feel him... she lets herself believe that she isn't a traitor just for asking him the question that she had. For feeling relief when he says he will accept her, even if she only comes to him when she feels there is not a single ounce of hope left for a Meridian victory. Even if she wants her world back, even if she cannot even begin to think whose shard she would end up shamefully begging that Yima woman for, torn between her (half) blood brother and the man who had offered her a life lived free she regretted struggling to believe in...
Her fingers drop from his cheek and slide along the line of his jaw, slowly falling. She relinquishes her own shard fully into his hand so that she might take his fully into hers... and slip under the hem of his shirt so that she might carefully return it to where it belonged, nestled just above his heart. Later, a certain war god will demand she kill this man in exchange for what she demands of him... but she returns his vulnerable soul to him instead.]
... Let's stay just a little longer.
[Here in the depths of the tunnel, as far away from the main chamber and the chaotic press of bleeding communions and mingling voices as they could physically get...]
It's quiet here...
[And there will not be much more quiet to be had.]