[He does not have to tell her that. What a mess. How foolish she had been that day when the “centaur” girl had invited her to that gathering of those who shared her basic shape but not her world or her culture or her history. To have looked upon the rolling hills and green forests of Alenroux and thought… only cowards would flee this place at nightfall. It surely could not be so nightmarish as that.
But it had been. She is the proof of that. Beneath the hand clutching at her chest, beneath stained fabric and binding, her companion’s shard is proof of that. … The monster’s cracked shard, too.
All she does is gurgle her assent. Lying still… is most all she’s capable of anymore.
In preparation for the sensation she despises, the feel of someone else’s magic flowing into her body, manipulating it to their will even if it were for “good”… No, Hayame cannot even frown or recoil. The blood in her scratched eye keeps her already compromised vision crimson and dark. The wounds in her flank and foreleg keep her legs from doing much but spasm, while the ones in her upper chest make it hard to breathe, her twin heartbeats growing weaker. The only thing she can do is make her hand curl tighter on her bow grip, the hole straight through the middle of her palm welling with fresh blood.
That… and rub her cut cheek into the dirt in what might be an attempt at a nod.]
no subject
But it had been. She is the proof of that. Beneath the hand clutching at her chest, beneath stained fabric and binding, her companion’s shard is proof of that. … The monster’s cracked shard, too.
All she does is gurgle her assent. Lying still… is most all she’s capable of anymore.
In preparation for the sensation she despises, the feel of someone else’s magic flowing into her body, manipulating it to their will even if it were for “good”… No, Hayame cannot even frown or recoil. The blood in her scratched eye keeps her already compromised vision crimson and dark. The wounds in her flank and foreleg keep her legs from doing much but spasm, while the ones in her upper chest make it hard to breathe, her twin heartbeats growing weaker. The only thing she can do is make her hand curl tighter on her bow grip, the hole straight through the middle of her palm welling with fresh blood.
That… and rub her cut cheek into the dirt in what might be an attempt at a nod.]