[She doesn't need him to share the burden. She doesn't give him her violences because she cannot live with them, or because she is too weak to carry on by herself. At least, that is what she would always vehemently claim was her position. She gives them to him because he had asked for them, because one gave a god one was worshiping offerings, and Set is not a deity who would be won over with fresh crops, rice wine, and salt.
Does she say it, though? Another argument, another desperate, vicious attempt to convince the people around her that she is a warrior to be feared and respected?
She is tired. Does she not also get to be tired, even though she will never allow herself to use such a thing as an excuse for falling to Zenith's tempting sway? If they are alone, if they cannot be seen or barely sensed here in the depths of the dirt and root as far apart from the other shard-bearers as they could physically get... Hayame lets go of the comb and allows it to fall into his lap where he sits in hers, freeing her hand to splay over Set's shard, pressing her fingers heedlessly to the jagged edges as if she might mold herself inwards and somehow begin to understand him from within.
She wants to rip the cool threads of Zenith from him, drag him back away from the precipice she had to refuse herself permission to approach for fear she might throw herself off into the abyss below. But she can't- she has already fully Harmonized again, and now her shard is growing rife not with Zenith but with Discord, fueled by the violence she has wreaked on her own faction- or rather, former members of her own faction. ... More importantly, from killing Liem Talbott.
Perhaps it is good that Set hides his thoughts from her in that moment that she admits to what she had done. What if he had been there? She had been there. She had tried to scourge the lingering doubts, to preserve Liem's heart. She had tried to make Liem believe in her. ... And he hadn't. She wasn't enough. No matter how strong she tried to make herself, no matter how strong a blade she tried to forge her hearts into... She had failed. She kept failing. Meridian was going to fail, because she can only make up for so much and-
Hayame lets her head bow over him further, crimson and onyx strands of hair mingling like peeks of bubbling lava beneath hardened black volcanic rock. She finds a place in the crook of his shoulder to rest, allowing her eye to slip closed with a slow, heavy exhale as she pulls him closer, her own shard (and Liem's, tucked between her breasts) pressed up against his back.
In the end, her mouth remains closed. She already said what she needed to say.
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Does she say it, though? Another argument, another desperate, vicious attempt to convince the people around her that she is a warrior to be feared and respected?
She is tired. Does she not also get to be tired, even though she will never allow herself to use such a thing as an excuse for falling to Zenith's tempting sway? If they are alone, if they cannot be seen or barely sensed here in the depths of the dirt and root as far apart from the other shard-bearers as they could physically get... Hayame lets go of the comb and allows it to fall into his lap where he sits in hers, freeing her hand to splay over Set's shard, pressing her fingers heedlessly to the jagged edges as if she might mold herself inwards and somehow begin to understand him from within.
She wants to rip the cool threads of Zenith from him, drag him back away from the precipice she had to refuse herself permission to approach for fear she might throw herself off into the abyss below. But she can't- she has already fully Harmonized again, and now her shard is growing rife not with Zenith but with Discord, fueled by the violence she has wreaked on her own faction- or rather, former members of her own faction. ... More importantly, from killing Liem Talbott.
Perhaps it is good that Set hides his thoughts from her in that moment that she admits to what she had done. What if he had been there? She had been there. She had tried to scourge the lingering doubts, to preserve Liem's heart. She had tried to make Liem believe in her. ... And he hadn't. She wasn't enough. No matter how strong she tried to make herself, no matter how strong a blade she tried to forge her hearts into... She had failed. She kept failing. Meridian was going to fail, because she can only make up for so much and-
Hayame lets her head bow over him further, crimson and onyx strands of hair mingling like peeks of bubbling lava beneath hardened black volcanic rock. She finds a place in the crook of his shoulder to rest, allowing her eye to slip closed with a slow, heavy exhale as she pulls him closer, her own shard (and Liem's, tucked between her breasts) pressed up against his back.
In the end, her mouth remains closed. She already said what she needed to say.
Let them rest.]