[When Hayame snatches her hands away (one side more easily than the other), when she snarls at him like a cornered animal and tries not to gag again on her own fear, he almost leaves here there and then. His hands fall to his sides, his mouth twists briefly in a suggestion of swallowed displeasure, and he very nearly turns away to retrieve their stolen wing and simply go back to camp with it on his own. She can find her own way, if she is so sickened by his mere presence. The Meridian camp is still quite some distance yet, but she is not some weakling human, unable to journey with such a simple injury.
Even if people will talk if he arrives before her, leaving her to arrive injured on her own. Even if he had promised himself, after his return to Meridian, that he would be a better friend to her than he had been in the past.
But he is so angry. He has been angry since the faerie banquet, in a way he can’t remember being for years and years, before he’d stamped out those parts of himself to make himself palatable to the humans he’d tried to pretend he was one of. He doesn’t want to be the bigger person anymore. He doesn’t want to forgive. He wants to wound everyone who ever took him for granted, to deny them the things they thought they were owed, make them understand just how cruel he is capable of being, until no one ever dares to hurt him again.
And he cannot. He cannot burn down everything just to suit himself, no matter how much he wishes he could. He still has a job to do, even now.]
Try to relax, as much as you can.
[He instructs clinically as he comes to standby Hayame’s shoulder. He has to touch her with those pale, cool hands of his, but she’ll simply need to endure it. If she retches again, she’ll tense up too much.
He does not grasp her upper arm, or her shoulder or back. Instead, he wraps both hands around her leather-covered wrist, and slowly, steadily— he pulls. Keeping the arm straight beside her, lifting the angle as he goes, he continues until he’s pulling it firmly, straight out to the side, level with her shoulder.
He’s never actually done this himself before— but he’s seen it done a few times, enough to know how the procedure is meant to go. He just needs to let the bone settle back into place, which hopefully it should still be able to do, assuming Hayame hasn’t abused it too badly.]
no subject
Even if people will talk if he arrives before her, leaving her to arrive injured on her own. Even if he had promised himself, after his return to Meridian, that he would be a better friend to her than he had been in the past.
But he is so angry. He has been angry since the faerie banquet, in a way he can’t remember being for years and years, before he’d stamped out those parts of himself to make himself palatable to the humans he’d tried to pretend he was one of. He doesn’t want to be the bigger person anymore. He doesn’t want to forgive. He wants to wound everyone who ever took him for granted, to deny them the things they thought they were owed, make them understand just how cruel he is capable of being, until no one ever dares to hurt him again.
And he cannot. He cannot burn down everything just to suit himself, no matter how much he wishes he could. He still has a job to do, even now.]
Try to relax, as much as you can.
[He instructs clinically as he comes to standby Hayame’s shoulder. He has to touch her with those pale, cool hands of his, but she’ll simply need to endure it. If she retches again, she’ll tense up too much.
He does not grasp her upper arm, or her shoulder or back. Instead, he wraps both hands around her leather-covered wrist, and slowly, steadily— he pulls. Keeping the arm straight beside her, lifting the angle as he goes, he continues until he’s pulling it firmly, straight out to the side, level with her shoulder.
He’s never actually done this himself before— but he’s seen it done a few times, enough to know how the procedure is meant to go. He just needs to let the bone settle back into place, which hopefully it should still be able to do, assuming Hayame hasn’t abused it too badly.]