[She doesn't seem inclined to explain it. What that meant. She feels she has already explained more than she wished to. She doesn't try to stop him either. He says he'll return... but even if he didn't, she wouldn't. He's going to retrieve the bell. If she'd just fired her arrow without calling him to face her before the cup had been kicked...
In Amos' absence, Hayame can't help but let her grip on stoicism slip. She's been growing weaker ever since she'd awoken, and though the makeshift splint had slowed the process... when not being watched, she slumps more downwards, relying on hands in the dirt to keep her human-looking half upright. For a moment... she closes her eye, and everything is dark. She doesn't know how long it takes for Amos to return.
But he does. It had been a mistake to slip, she realizes it then, because she cannot reassemble her show of strength as firmly once she has. Her gaze is more out of focus, her skin paler, her spine more bent, the gradually pooling blood wider than when he'd left. ... She's listening though, as he recounts... his kills? At first, she doesn't understand why, but when she does...
Ah. Another one to tell her she needs to change. He and Set could pat themselves on the backs over it. "Honor"- at least, the version she had been taught, had been the only thing that kept her from having the arms flensed from her shoulders, that kept her from being treated like an animal, that kept her sane, pretending she might one day achieve the best a jinba raised for auction could obtain. And they just wanted her to throw it away.
If none of it mattered... Why didn't she just lay down and die right here? Ask him to shatter her shard, because she'd tried to crush it in Horos but every time she'd attempted it she'd gotten so physically ill she couldn't complete the motion. People want her to live, they want her to die, and all she wanted...
Hayame's fingers manage to reach her quiver, to pull an arrow from it... and curl it back close to her body. Just in case. She isn't interested in trying to argue like this. Honestly, she's never seen much use in arguing with this man- that was part of why they... got along. Part of why she did not hate him as passionately as she did other Zenites. Maybe a mistake. ... But it's one that in the context of the Oracle she still has the possibility to correct. So until then...
She swallows dry, her fingers as tight as she can manage on her arrow shaft. Her mind reaching out for the nearest Meridian, the nearest healer... and she doesn't speak up again until the hole is wide enough, until it is time for him to walk out of her unscathed with the prize she had hoped to win for Meridian.]
no subject
In Amos' absence, Hayame can't help but let her grip on stoicism slip. She's been growing weaker ever since she'd awoken, and though the makeshift splint had slowed the process... when not being watched, she slumps more downwards, relying on hands in the dirt to keep her human-looking half upright. For a moment... she closes her eye, and everything is dark. She doesn't know how long it takes for Amos to return.
But he does. It had been a mistake to slip, she realizes it then, because she cannot reassemble her show of strength as firmly once she has. Her gaze is more out of focus, her skin paler, her spine more bent, the gradually pooling blood wider than when he'd left. ... She's listening though, as he recounts... his kills? At first, she doesn't understand why, but when she does...
Ah. Another one to tell her she needs to change. He and Set could pat themselves on the backs over it. "Honor"- at least, the version she had been taught, had been the only thing that kept her from having the arms flensed from her shoulders, that kept her from being treated like an animal, that kept her sane, pretending she might one day achieve the best a jinba raised for auction could obtain. And they just wanted her to throw it away.
If none of it mattered... Why didn't she just lay down and die right here? Ask him to shatter her shard, because she'd tried to crush it in Horos but every time she'd attempted it she'd gotten so physically ill she couldn't complete the motion. People want her to live, they want her to die, and all she wanted...
Hayame's fingers manage to reach her quiver, to pull an arrow from it... and curl it back close to her body. Just in case. She isn't interested in trying to argue like this. Honestly, she's never seen much use in arguing with this man- that was part of why they... got along. Part of why she did not hate him as passionately as she did other Zenites. Maybe a mistake. ... But it's one that in the context of the Oracle she still has the possibility to correct. So until then...
She swallows dry, her fingers as tight as she can manage on her arrow shaft. Her mind reaching out for the nearest Meridian, the nearest healer... and she doesn't speak up again until the hole is wide enough, until it is time for him to walk out of her unscathed with the prize she had hoped to win for Meridian.]
... Goodbye, Amos Burton.
[For now.]