[How did Armless wrench each other by the arms? Why would the grooms allow a stud to damage a perfectly good broodmare that way? The injury creates the tiniest crack in the logic of the spell, and through that crack... Hayame seizes desperately at the first brightness that she sees: the light of the divine blessing that a god of war had bestowed upon her in exchange for the violence and battles she has given up to him in worship.
Something howls to be let loose and get revenge, full of rage and hurt and power and overwhelming, overbearing menace. In an instant, Hayame's pupil dilates with focus through the pain lancing through her shoulder, returning to her body with a sudden rush of oppressive weight. But it isn't gravity, it's an aura, one that rips the Fear spell to pieces as she pulls herself free of it and cloaks her body like a sudden blast of heat. But it isn't the heat of flames, it's the dry, suffocating heat of the endless desert.
The same desert that had kissed her hair, staining one strand of her ebon dark mane crimson. The same strand that seems to gleam now as the dark pinprick of her pupil finds the person causing her pain, forcing her to see and live the fate she had sacrificed everything to try and avoid... and the moment she locks on he will feel behind her an oppressive, overwhelming sense of divine depth and power. It is a divinity that is not hers, a mere borrowed scrap of a god from another world gifted from war god to warrior-
But scraps were enough to overwhelm a mortal. As the full weight of her freed consciousness narrows in on him, her pained, horrified expression twisting into one of betrayal and feral rage, the aura swells fit to bursting as if to say fear? He wanted fear?
Fear me.
Hayame's uninjured hand suddenly slams into Amos' head from the side and fists in his shortly cropped hair to try and twist him away from her dislocated shoulder, her lips pulling back in a fanged snarl before she hauls back to gather force and then cracks their skulls together in a vicious headbutt.]
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Something howls to be let loose and get revenge, full of rage and hurt and power and overwhelming, overbearing menace. In an instant, Hayame's pupil dilates with focus through the pain lancing through her shoulder, returning to her body with a sudden rush of oppressive weight. But it isn't gravity, it's an aura, one that rips the Fear spell to pieces as she pulls herself free of it and cloaks her body like a sudden blast of heat. But it isn't the heat of flames, it's the dry, suffocating heat of the endless desert.
The same desert that had kissed her hair, staining one strand of her ebon dark mane crimson. The same strand that seems to gleam now as the dark pinprick of her pupil finds the person causing her pain, forcing her to see and live the fate she had sacrificed everything to try and avoid... and the moment she locks on he will feel behind her an oppressive, overwhelming sense of divine depth and power. It is a divinity that is not hers, a mere borrowed scrap of a god from another world gifted from war god to warrior-
But scraps were enough to overwhelm a mortal. As the full weight of her freed consciousness narrows in on him, her pained, horrified expression twisting into one of betrayal and feral rage, the aura swells fit to bursting as if to say fear? He wanted fear?
Fear me.
Hayame's uninjured hand suddenly slams into Amos' head from the side and fists in his shortly cropped hair to try and twist him away from her dislocated shoulder, her lips pulling back in a fanged snarl before she hauls back to gather force and then cracks their skulls together in a vicious headbutt.]