[Hayame's head lowers slightly more, a sharp canine digs in to her bottom lip. She cannot be angry at his response... and not only because she is growing too weak to muster the anger. The bruising from her impacts with the cup and the ground were beginning to show more priminently on her body, dark enough in some places that it was visible despite her dun coat. Her splinted leg twitched, the makeshift splint bloody. Beneath the pain, she can sense it-]
... I do not think you will understand.
[No one seemed to. It was the source of a lot of pain in her that she did not like to examine or acknowledge, that what to her was so normal and expected had become upon her "arrival" in these foreign places things to be derided or dismissed as nonsensical or outdated. But it did not change how normal they were to her. How fiercely a part of her still attempted to cling to them.
Her fingers tighten in the dirt. Because this was not her world, bowing until her head pressed into the soil would do nothing. So she raises her gaze and fixes him with the one eye she has left, her gaze intent and sincere (and ashamed of her loss).]
I do not wish to be put down like a horse with a broken leg.
[She does not want him to kill her like this, now, when she can offer little meaningful fight or resistance. How pathetic it would be, like pressing a rifle to the temple of a mount thrashing on the ground after it snapped a fetlock in a ditch.]
I do not wish to lay down and die shivering and pale.
[She can sense it. Something deeply wrong and growing wronger in her body, the natural weakness one paid for a form larger and more powerful than a human's.]
If healers from Meridian do not reach me in time after you leave with the Bell, if another Zenith takes the advantage, or if some... some thing, in the gardens, comes upon me-
[Dishonorable deaths, all of them. Taken out by her own body weakening and going into shock, by some fucking insect, by an enemy who had not even won the right to her death in battle-]
I ask you leave me with a way to end my life by my own hand.
[If she survives, or must do it, then she can return his dagger with those same hands. If a Zenite were to kill her, even shatter her... the dagger would go back to Zenith, where he could reclaim it. If a bug were to make food of her, the dagger would remain in the dirt and return to size when they all did, surely, leaving it for retrieval in the grounds of the Greenwood Yards.
Either way... she believes her promise will hold.]
no subject
... I do not think you will understand.
[No one seemed to. It was the source of a lot of pain in her that she did not like to examine or acknowledge, that what to her was so normal and expected had become upon her "arrival" in these foreign places things to be derided or dismissed as nonsensical or outdated. But it did not change how normal they were to her. How fiercely a part of her still attempted to cling to them.
Her fingers tighten in the dirt. Because this was not her world, bowing until her head pressed into the soil would do nothing. So she raises her gaze and fixes him with the one eye she has left, her gaze intent and sincere (and ashamed of her loss).]
I do not wish to be put down like a horse with a broken leg.
[She does not want him to kill her like this, now, when she can offer little meaningful fight or resistance. How pathetic it would be, like pressing a rifle to the temple of a mount thrashing on the ground after it snapped a fetlock in a ditch.]
I do not wish to lay down and die shivering and pale.
[She can sense it. Something deeply wrong and growing wronger in her body, the natural weakness one paid for a form larger and more powerful than a human's.]
If healers from Meridian do not reach me in time after you leave with the Bell, if another Zenith takes the advantage, or if some... some thing, in the gardens, comes upon me-
[Dishonorable deaths, all of them. Taken out by her own body weakening and going into shock, by some fucking insect, by an enemy who had not even won the right to her death in battle-]
I ask you leave me with a way to end my life by my own hand.
[If she survives, or must do it, then she can return his dagger with those same hands. If a Zenite were to kill her, even shatter her... the dagger would go back to Zenith, where he could reclaim it. If a bug were to make food of her, the dagger would remain in the dirt and return to size when they all did, surely, leaving it for retrieval in the grounds of the Greenwood Yards.
Either way... she believes her promise will hold.]