[It's a touching gesture, as much as it is a worrying one. It's not that he's literally forgotten that he gave her the knife, but he realizes for the first time that the gesture is clearly weighing on her mind more prominently than it has his. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised. When he was first given the knife by the valley's guardians, he had felt liberated, too.
It feels like progress has been made here... which would be great, if it didn't seem like she might be consigning herself to another reckless objective, just as foolhardy and stubborn as trying to run across the continent had been. He's glad to hear her passionate about something, but what he wants most is for her to find something to live for, not something to die for.
He has to pause for a moment, considering how to respond.]
...Bringing their shards would be of the most use. [He's not even sure what would happen to their heads after they passed.] If brought to the forest, 'twould provide us the best hope of either cleansing the Kenoma's taint or preventing them from causing further harm.
[He won't tell her not to fight them at all, but...]
...Though I would much rather fight by your side, and see it done together.
But what else does she have? If she cannot die, if that path of last ditch escape is closed to her, then what is she to do about honor? What is there to do about this despair she feels, so heavy and oppressive that each day she wakes surprised she has not choked in the night?
If there is no death… then the only thing else she knows well is violence.]
Their shards as well.
[It seems she isn’t to be swayed about the heads, without the sense to explain that in her culture… that is how one knew the mettle of a warrior. That she had once dreamed of being bought by a warlord into whose hands she might deliver the severed heads of his enemies, proving herself worth perhaps even a fraction of the respect a human man received.]
There is a Kenoma I became indebted to before I knew… one who drank the foul curse and became darkened. I will bring his shard back, too, for I could not force the sludge out of his body any other way I tried…
[And she’d tried, but the only thing that had come from his stomach was vile and her own blood nicked on his sharp teeth. If she swears enough, if she makes enough vows, enough debts, will she cease wanting to plunge that knife into her belly and then her heart? Will she earn enough goodwill that perhaps Estinien might even-]
I could see it done.
[She wants to believe that. If he were there also… Well, perhaps it were more sure. She just doesn’t know well how to say it, “we could see it done”. Perhaps the link in their minds would fill the blank in for her.]
[It's interesting to know that she even tried with one of the Kenoma, as it would have been easy to assume that she would simply count them among the dead at that point. It does seem that oaths and debts mean a great deal to her, which he understands. He has his own debts he's following through on, after all.
Though they cannot truly see each other, Estinien can't help but project the emotional impression of the real smile he has at her saying that. Perhaps that's odd, given the way she is threatening to behead people, or the undertones of her own doubts about living... yet, it seems like something they are united on.
He feels some comfort in that.]
Aye. There are a few among the Kenoma I would sooner see cleansed than punished as well. We know not of any sure way to accomplish it... but with their shard in hand, there may yet be a chance to try.
I intend to put my efforts toward doing so, going forward. I would be glad for your aid.
She doesn't know what to do with that. Hayame is not smiling. She has not smiled since she came to this place, and before that... She had smiled at the arrows her brother had put in her hands, before the mission and her life and everything she'd known had gone to shit. She had almost smiled at Matsukaze.
It feels like she's forgotten how. Like if she did it... something in her might crack and break. But there is... comfort. A sick comfort, perhaps, but comfort, in finally being united with someone over something.
Hayame's mind is in turmoil, yet, staring at the knife in one hand, the shard of black gem in the other... until she slowly puts the blade away.]
[That said, there is something unresolved. He hasn't forgotten the state she was in when this conversation started.]
Will you be able to make it back to the forest? Even if you refuse to teleport, 'tis possible I could bring you supplies to tide you over for the rest of your journey.
[She can not say that he is welcome. Not until she brings him the heads or the shards. Words are cheap, no matter how much conviction she puts behind them, until they become reality.
And the reality is-]
Even if I were to debase myself so-
[To ask for... supplies, as if she could not provide (just barely) for herself? Succor from a man who teleported without balking at the foreign magics suffusing his body...]
... I could not tell you accurately where it is that I am. It would be pointless.
[She checks her direction once a day by reorienting towards the forest's position against the rising sun, and moves forward. She has no map.]
[He can admit to himself that the offer was ambitious to begin with, as finding her would be difficult regardless. As it is... he won't force his help on her. Not unless it's absolutely essential.]
Then, in the meantime, I will keep in touch. Mayhap once you've reached the forest I can provide some direction.
[Maybe the best he can do for the moment is check in on her occasionally and ensure that things haven't gotten worse. Gods, he hopes she will acclimate to teleporting at some point.]
[... She appreciates it. That he does not try to push his charity on her in this case. Even when she knew it might come from being a "good person" (whatever the hell that was...) How it burned to be reminded so clearly of her own failures.
As if she didn't already know every single one.
It takes her a lot of pride swallowing, but. He has been. Helpful. And so-]
... Once I reach the forest.
[And she will, in a few days, a few too many pounds lighter than when she set out from Venera, her hooves cracked and dry, her mane dulled and her coat matted, but. She will.]
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no subject
It feels like progress has been made here... which would be great, if it didn't seem like she might be consigning herself to another reckless objective, just as foolhardy and stubborn as trying to run across the continent had been. He's glad to hear her passionate about something, but what he wants most is for her to find something to live for, not something to die for.
He has to pause for a moment, considering how to respond.]
...Bringing their shards would be of the most use. [He's not even sure what would happen to their heads after they passed.] If brought to the forest, 'twould provide us the best hope of either cleansing the Kenoma's taint or preventing them from causing further harm.
[He won't tell her not to fight them at all, but...]
...Though I would much rather fight by your side, and see it done together.
no subject
But what else does she have? If she cannot die, if that path of last ditch escape is closed to her, then what is she to do about honor? What is there to do about this despair she feels, so heavy and oppressive that each day she wakes surprised she has not choked in the night?
If there is no death… then the only thing else she knows well is violence.]
Their shards as well.
[It seems she isn’t to be swayed about the heads, without the sense to explain that in her culture… that is how one knew the mettle of a warrior. That she had once dreamed of being bought by a warlord into whose hands she might deliver the severed heads of his enemies, proving herself worth perhaps even a fraction of the respect a human man received.]
There is a Kenoma I became indebted to before I knew… one who drank the foul curse and became darkened. I will bring his shard back, too, for I could not force the sludge out of his body any other way I tried…
[And she’d tried, but the only thing that had come from his stomach was vile and her own blood nicked on his sharp teeth. If she swears enough, if she makes enough vows, enough debts, will she cease wanting to plunge that knife into her belly and then her heart? Will she earn enough goodwill that perhaps Estinien might even-]
I could see it done.
[She wants to believe that. If he were there also… Well, perhaps it were more sure. She just doesn’t know well how to say it, “we could see it done”. Perhaps the link in their minds would fill the blank in for her.]
no subject
Though they cannot truly see each other, Estinien can't help but project the emotional impression of the real smile he has at her saying that. Perhaps that's odd, given the way she is threatening to behead people, or the undertones of her own doubts about living... yet, it seems like something they are united on.
He feels some comfort in that.]
Aye. There are a few among the Kenoma I would sooner see cleansed than punished as well. We know not of any sure way to accomplish it... but with their shard in hand, there may yet be a chance to try.
I intend to put my efforts toward doing so, going forward. I would be glad for your aid.
no subject
She doesn't know what to do with that. Hayame is not smiling. She has not smiled since she came to this place, and before that... She had smiled at the arrows her brother had put in her hands, before the mission and her life and everything she'd known had gone to shit. She had almost smiled at Matsukaze.
It feels like she's forgotten how. Like if she did it... something in her might crack and break. But there is... comfort. A sick comfort, perhaps, but comfort, in finally being united with someone over something.
Hayame's mind is in turmoil, yet, staring at the knife in one hand, the shard of black gem in the other... until she slowly puts the blade away.]
... Then you may have it.
[So that she may have something like a purpose.]
no subject
[That said, there is something unresolved. He hasn't forgotten the state she was in when this conversation started.]
Will you be able to make it back to the forest? Even if you refuse to teleport, 'tis possible I could bring you supplies to tide you over for the rest of your journey.
[If he can figure out where she is, at least.]
no subject
And the reality is-]
Even if I were to debase myself so-
[To ask for... supplies, as if she could not provide (just barely) for herself? Succor from a man who teleported without balking at the foreign magics suffusing his body...]
... I could not tell you accurately where it is that I am. It would be pointless.
[She checks her direction once a day by reorienting towards the forest's position against the rising sun, and moves forward. She has no map.]
no subject
[He can admit to himself that the offer was ambitious to begin with, as finding her would be difficult regardless. As it is... he won't force his help on her. Not unless it's absolutely essential.]
Then, in the meantime, I will keep in touch. Mayhap once you've reached the forest I can provide some direction.
[Maybe the best he can do for the moment is check in on her occasionally and ensure that things haven't gotten worse. Gods, he hopes she will acclimate to teleporting at some point.]
no subject
As if she didn't already know every single one.
It takes her a lot of pride swallowing, but. He has been. Helpful. And so-]
... Once I reach the forest.
[And she will, in a few days, a few too many pounds lighter than when she set out from Venera, her hooves cracked and dry, her mane dulled and her coat matted, but. She will.]