["Sebastian Michaelis" was a demon, a creature that by very definition (as far as she was aware) lacked empathy and the ability to love. And so, surely, where could a demon who would have only selfish reasons to do anything belong but on Zenith? How could Meridian welcome a being that corrupt, that irredeemably evil? The idea that something could change... is not a thought that exists in even a single part of Hayame's hearts.
Hearts that rage in the presence of the thing that had not only robbed her of an eye... but intentionally shamed and tortured her in the guise of charitably returning it.]
A monster that bears no scars is owed nothing.
[The words are spit so viciously that people walking around them side-eye the shard-bearers, some beginning to give a bit of a wide berth in case a more violent argument breaks out. They are here for fun, for enjoyment, and though some had more peculiar tastes... there were bars for that. Good, because all she wants or needs is an opening, she cannot just kill these false dreams of people if she must impress upon the Advocate Oracle that she can show compassion-
But the demon is exempt. Even knowing they do not agree on the tally, that he believed her teeth in his throat in the dryad's roots or her spear tip in his eye during the Iconoclast Oracle trial to have counted and she did not, refusing to be satisfied with injuries that were either erased from time or healed in an instant...]
Even if you had not laid a hand upon me, you would be marked for death.
[Her knuckles tighten on her bow. Her fingers are a second away from pulling an arrow from her quiver. Any second now there will be a gap in the passersby, enough room to clash without endangering them, so if she just, for one more minute-]
shakes travel why so fun but so disruptive
Hearts that rage in the presence of the thing that had not only robbed her of an eye... but intentionally shamed and tortured her in the guise of charitably returning it.]
A monster that bears no scars is owed nothing.
[The words are spit so viciously that people walking around them side-eye the shard-bearers, some beginning to give a bit of a wide berth in case a more violent argument breaks out. They are here for fun, for enjoyment, and though some had more peculiar tastes... there were bars for that. Good, because all she wants or needs is an opening, she cannot just kill these false dreams of people if she must impress upon the Advocate Oracle that she can show compassion-
But the demon is exempt. Even knowing they do not agree on the tally, that he believed her teeth in his throat in the dryad's roots or her spear tip in his eye during the Iconoclast Oracle trial to have counted and she did not, refusing to be satisfied with injuries that were either erased from time or healed in an instant...]
Even if you had not laid a hand upon me, you would be marked for death.
[Her knuckles tighten on her bow. Her fingers are a second away from pulling an arrow from her quiver. Any second now there will be a gap in the passersby, enough room to clash without endangering them, so if she just, for one more minute-]
So what does a demon pray to, I wonder?