[The people who have been taken are not her friends. Hayame does not think she has ever had such a thing, and she has never… she had never wanted such a thing, because all it brought was weakness, especially in a time like this. They are not even her allies… for all she found herself in the Pleroma, it was no enthusiastic dedication to cause. The whoremonger had insulted her, and then he’d had the gall to offer her his hand. The healer woman had forced her to be healthy again when all she’d wanted to do was die.]
… I am not… well.
[But she has… debts. It is the debts, surely, that make her say these things, even though she hates to admit to weakness, to accidentally allow the throbbing ache of a cracked shoulder, the burn of a dislocated lower one forced to continue bearing weight, and the cuts and pierces of a blade through muscle and hide to peek through. But despite those untreated wounds, and no healer woman about even if she did muster the shamelessness to ask for help, despite all that-]
When I am worthy of standing beside in battle once more… you have my bow.
[His interest piques when she says she's not well. He's sort of figured she might have seen some battle damage, fighting as boldly as he knew she did, but that she'd admit it instead of brushing it off... he's relieved, at least. He wouldn't want her to keep trying to fight while injured.
'You have my bow.'
It's almost uncanny how similar it is to the things he's said to his friends. It's the one sure way he knows to offer his affection to others - to offer his prowess to them, to fight at their side. It's the one thing he's always been suited for.
He doesn't know if she feels the same, or how deep the sentiment really is. It makes him wonder, though.]
...Then I wish you your rest. And to fight by your side again soon.
[Even knowing- Or, no, perhaps that's the problem. She didn't know anything in this place, and almost every time she's started to feel confident that she understood the nature of things, that perhaps she'd put a tiny scrap of hope in the right person... She's been proven wrong, or she had failed.
So maybe she doesn't know that he means well, to wish her rest. Her instinct is to chafe, to take back what she's just said, to insist she was hale and ready to fight, and that he insulted her with those kind seeming words.
If she were resting, while he was out doing that they had discussed in that alley... Making enough of a name for themselves through deeds violent and valorous to draw out the Regent or at least his lieutenants... She would hate that. To finally collapse, alone in the misty forest camp she called "home", curling in tight and waiting for her body to heal... She would hate that, too.]
...
[Somewhere on the sea, between Venera and Godsblood... Hayame bites the inside of her cheek. It's hard to say two simple words of gratitude rather than dwell in bitterness and the shame of failure. "Thank you". She tries, maybe the attempt comes through the Firebrand, but-]
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no subject
… I am not… well.
[But she has… debts. It is the debts, surely, that make her say these things, even though she hates to admit to weakness, to accidentally allow the throbbing ache of a cracked shoulder, the burn of a dislocated lower one forced to continue bearing weight, and the cuts and pierces of a blade through muscle and hide to peek through. But despite those untreated wounds, and no healer woman about even if she did muster the shamelessness to ask for help, despite all that-]
When I am worthy of standing beside in battle once more… you have my bow.
[- what else was there left but the hunt?]
no subject
'You have my bow.'
It's almost uncanny how similar it is to the things he's said to his friends. It's the one sure way he knows to offer his affection to others - to offer his prowess to them, to fight at their side. It's the one thing he's always been suited for.
He doesn't know if she feels the same, or how deep the sentiment really is. It makes him wonder, though.]
...Then I wish you your rest. And to fight by your side again soon.
no subject
So maybe she doesn't know that he means well, to wish her rest. Her instinct is to chafe, to take back what she's just said, to insist she was hale and ready to fight, and that he insulted her with those kind seeming words.
If she were resting, while he was out doing that they had discussed in that alley... Making enough of a name for themselves through deeds violent and valorous to draw out the Regent or at least his lieutenants... She would hate that. To finally collapse, alone in the misty forest camp she called "home", curling in tight and waiting for her body to heal... She would hate that, too.]
...
[Somewhere on the sea, between Venera and Godsblood... Hayame bites the inside of her cheek. It's hard to say two simple words of gratitude rather than dwell in bitterness and the shame of failure. "Thank you". She tries, maybe the attempt comes through the Firebrand, but-]
Ahhh.
[She fails.]