[When Hayame had first moved to Alenroux... She had done so not just to be in a place that felt more comfortable and natural to a frontier jinba from Japan's medieval period, but also to avoid living in a city where she felt like an outcast. Then (perhaps still now), very few members of Meridian were as uncompromising or unforgiving as she. Her willingness to condemn those within their own ranks that she found lacking and actions she found traitorous had hardly earned her friends, particularly in earlier days where so many shard-bearers seemed reluctant to commit more fully to their faction or the Oracle conflict... and even amongst Springstar citizens, with Oracles lost to Zenith, they had all not been particularly celebrated.
Now, though... She has been bestowed the title of Decurion, like Liem Talbott had before her. After their successful claim on the Exalt Oracle, she had distinguished herself in the competition for the Harbinger. And thanks to the mysterious broadcast that revealed every single moment of what had happened in that labyrinth... She had become known to Springstar in a way she never imagined possible nor ever would have allowed. Being shown slaying a prominent Zenite, good, being shown fighting through the compulsions of the various magicked rooms in the maze, fine, being seen willing to kill Meridians if they were possessed or acting against their faction, sure, even that she might have been able to deal with, but...
They had also seen her kissing the man who she had hidden a relationship with for nearly half a year, even though part of why she had concealed it was fears for what it might do to their respective reputations. They had seen her nearly overcome by the desires of hunger in that room that crashed against the hungers of a sorceress, heavy and consuming. They had seen the tender moments shared between her and her war god, the admission of why cutting the beautiful, flowing mane from her head had been a sacrifice worth granting in the name of victory. And instead of turning against her, condemning her for weakness, or thinking of her as some perverse woman...
Springstar had embraced her. And she had run from it, at first, a being trained to crave and need praise but one who had never received it on anything compared to that scale. Over time she had begun to accept that... things had been seen, and there was no taking it back. That somehow... people felt endeared to her, or grateful, somehow, even though they didn't actually know her, and with Claude's coaching... She has tried to present the image of a woman that thought she belonged in that shining spotlight. (She was trying, anyway. It did not come naturally, and she still had nowhere near perfected it.)
But though she was spending more time in Springstar these days, a considerable change from the month and some she had spent avoiding it after a certain demon had suddenly appeared on its streets and taken her drugged body to Kowloon below... she continued to return to Alenroux to live, whether things had changed or not. She feels more... home, here. (Even though she had never imagined anywhere in Kenos could feel remotely like that.)
Set is one of the few people she had made privy to the nearest Cornerstone to her residence, but that did not mean she had been expecting company. Naira, the large white wyvern, slumbered contentedly in the sun near the rear of the house, having turned some of the grassy surroundings to a sandy pit with her preference for dirt baths. The weather was fair, and so Hayame had been doing various chores- there are sheets and articles of clothing drying on a line and fluttering in the occasional breeze, the pomegranate saplings Set inspects show signs of recent watering (as does the young persimmon tree nearby), there are peeled fruits and salted meats strung along the side of the house to start preserving. If one did not know better... It was a rather domestic scene.
And the Hayame that appears in the doorway does not look that much like the warrior she had always insisted was all she was or could ever be. Her shorn-short hair is pinned up in a tiny bun tied with a colorful ribbon, and she wears a half-apron hanging down over her equine chest, the pockets stuffed with gardening, sewing, and leatherworking tools. An empty hamper is balanced between one arm and her dun shoulder. But to suddenly see that man crouched in her "garden"- ?]
Set, what-
["What has brought you here today?", perhaps, or "what has happened", but he carries on in his greeting with the answer to that aborted question... and leaves Hayame blinking in confusion. Blinking with two eyes, these days, even if the sickly green one is still hidden behind her usual eyepatch for fear that she might betray someone she cared for or something valuable to Meridian to whoever was watching through it. He wanted to- ?]
Fun?
[And drinks? And sight-seeing? And whatever struck their fancy? Caught off-guard and somewhat unused to such invitations from people, let alone accepting them, she looks between her home and the god out front, conflicted because her culture dictated she invite him in, at least find some tea and sweets to offer, but... Maybe something had happened? He seemed strangely... nervous? Her brow furrows slightly and she begins to look... almost embarrassed.]
I have to take in the washing.
[Ugh, it sounds so much like a farmwife that she almost cringes to imagine a war god hearing his warrior say such a thing, but. Belatedly... she realizes how it might sound. That instead of spending time with him, she would rather- Wait, no, that is not quite it-]
SLAMS IN jfc this is so long just read the bottom half
Now, though... She has been bestowed the title of Decurion, like Liem Talbott had before her. After their successful claim on the Exalt Oracle, she had distinguished herself in the competition for the Harbinger. And thanks to the mysterious broadcast that revealed every single moment of what had happened in that labyrinth... She had become known to Springstar in a way she never imagined possible nor ever would have allowed. Being shown slaying a prominent Zenite, good, being shown fighting through the compulsions of the various magicked rooms in the maze, fine, being seen willing to kill Meridians if they were possessed or acting against their faction, sure, even that she might have been able to deal with, but...
They had also seen her kissing the man who she had hidden a relationship with for nearly half a year, even though part of why she had concealed it was fears for what it might do to their respective reputations. They had seen her nearly overcome by the desires of hunger in that room that crashed against the hungers of a sorceress, heavy and consuming. They had seen the tender moments shared between her and her war god, the admission of why cutting the beautiful, flowing mane from her head had been a sacrifice worth granting in the name of victory. And instead of turning against her, condemning her for weakness, or thinking of her as some perverse woman...
Springstar had embraced her. And she had run from it, at first, a being trained to crave and need praise but one who had never received it on anything compared to that scale. Over time she had begun to accept that... things had been seen, and there was no taking it back. That somehow... people felt endeared to her, or grateful, somehow, even though they didn't actually know her, and with Claude's coaching... She has tried to present the image of a woman that thought she belonged in that shining spotlight. (She was trying, anyway. It did not come naturally, and she still had nowhere near perfected it.)
But though she was spending more time in Springstar these days, a considerable change from the month and some she had spent avoiding it after a certain demon had suddenly appeared on its streets and taken her drugged body to Kowloon below... she continued to return to Alenroux to live, whether things had changed or not. She feels more... home, here. (Even though she had never imagined anywhere in Kenos could feel remotely like that.)
Set is one of the few people she had made privy to the nearest Cornerstone to her residence, but that did not mean she had been expecting company. Naira, the large white wyvern, slumbered contentedly in the sun near the rear of the house, having turned some of the grassy surroundings to a sandy pit with her preference for dirt baths. The weather was fair, and so Hayame had been doing various chores- there are sheets and articles of clothing drying on a line and fluttering in the occasional breeze, the pomegranate saplings Set inspects show signs of recent watering (as does the young persimmon tree nearby), there are peeled fruits and salted meats strung along the side of the house to start preserving. If one did not know better... It was a rather domestic scene.
And the Hayame that appears in the doorway does not look that much like the warrior she had always insisted was all she was or could ever be. Her shorn-short hair is pinned up in a tiny bun tied with a colorful ribbon, and she wears a half-apron hanging down over her equine chest, the pockets stuffed with gardening, sewing, and leatherworking tools. An empty hamper is balanced between one arm and her dun shoulder. But to suddenly see that man crouched in her "garden"- ?]
Set, what-
["What has brought you here today?", perhaps, or "what has happened", but he carries on in his greeting with the answer to that aborted question... and leaves Hayame blinking in confusion. Blinking with two eyes, these days, even if the sickly green one is still hidden behind her usual eyepatch for fear that she might betray someone she cared for or something valuable to Meridian to whoever was watching through it. He wanted to- ?]
Fun?
[And drinks? And sight-seeing? And whatever struck their fancy? Caught off-guard and somewhat unused to such invitations from people, let alone accepting them, she looks between her home and the god out front, conflicted because her culture dictated she invite him in, at least find some tea and sweets to offer, but... Maybe something had happened? He seemed strangely... nervous? Her brow furrows slightly and she begins to look... almost embarrassed.]
I have to take in the washing.
[Ugh, it sounds so much like a farmwife that she almost cringes to imagine a war god hearing his warrior say such a thing, but. Belatedly... she realizes how it might sound. That instead of spending time with him, she would rather- Wait, no, that is not quite it-]
... First.
[Then... She can go???]