[Liem hastens back through the Zenith camp as quickly as he dares, darting from shadow to shadow to avoid any Zenites who might still be lingering about, or newcomers who might be coming from the scene of the explosion. He does not trust the camp to be entirely abandoned, even now; there is always the possibility of those who are simply less likely to jump headlong into a conflict, witnesses who may prove troublesome even if their skills don’t lie in combat. He avoids contact with all of them, but breaks free of the thick of camp as soon as he’s able, returning to the outskirts where Amos and Hayame are still locked in their violent contest.
For a moment, when he catches sight of them again, his eyes narrow and he takes a half-step in confusion, hit with the vague sensation of heat and sand and the impossible vastness that makes him think, Set? Had the god joined them while he was seeking their prize in Zenith’s camp?
But no — he looks again and see that it is still just Hayame, grappling with Amos with only one of her arms as he brings his own transformed limbs to bear against her. He was right to suppose that Amos might take an inconveniently long time to subdue, and now — with Hayame apparently injured and the faerie wing within his grasp — they should leave as soon as they can.
Liem also has only one arm free, given that his other is still occupied with holding the leaf-wrapped package at his side. But it seems like Amos has forgotten all about him for the moment, occupied as he is with the jinba warrior before him. While he flails at Hayame, trying to land a blow, his back is wide open. And Liem isn’t remotely above taking such an opportunity.
He could draw the dagger at his hip, drive it between Amos’s ribs and leave him while they escape — but that would be a waste of perfectly good lifeblood. With Hayame down to one usable arm, they’ll be in a tough spot if anyone else shows up while they’re trying to make it back to Meridian’s camp. He could use a bit of a boost.
So instead, Liem stalks between Amos’s broad, moth-like wings and lunges to hook an arm around his neck, pulling him back and away from Hayame, trying to throw off his balance as he tugs him against his own body. And in almost that same motion, as he jerks Amos’s head up, he brings his own head down — to the exposed side of his neck, aiming to sink long, sharp fangs into his jugular.]
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For a moment, when he catches sight of them again, his eyes narrow and he takes a half-step in confusion, hit with the vague sensation of heat and sand and the impossible vastness that makes him think, Set? Had the god joined them while he was seeking their prize in Zenith’s camp?
But no — he looks again and see that it is still just Hayame, grappling with Amos with only one of her arms as he brings his own transformed limbs to bear against her. He was right to suppose that Amos might take an inconveniently long time to subdue, and now — with Hayame apparently injured and the faerie wing within his grasp — they should leave as soon as they can.
Liem also has only one arm free, given that his other is still occupied with holding the leaf-wrapped package at his side. But it seems like Amos has forgotten all about him for the moment, occupied as he is with the jinba warrior before him. While he flails at Hayame, trying to land a blow, his back is wide open. And Liem isn’t remotely above taking such an opportunity.
He could draw the dagger at his hip, drive it between Amos’s ribs and leave him while they escape — but that would be a waste of perfectly good lifeblood. With Hayame down to one usable arm, they’ll be in a tough spot if anyone else shows up while they’re trying to make it back to Meridian’s camp. He could use a bit of a boost.
So instead, Liem stalks between Amos’s broad, moth-like wings and lunges to hook an arm around his neck, pulling him back and away from Hayame, trying to throw off his balance as he tugs him against his own body. And in almost that same motion, as he jerks Amos’s head up, he brings his own head down — to the exposed side of his neck, aiming to sink long, sharp fangs into his jugular.]