[For every word that Hayame says, there are ten, twenty, a hundred left unsaid. Words she has never been taught how to even begin to say aloud, that are too shameful to admit to, that would disgrace her reputation, that seem weak, that admit to how very lost and confused she has felt every single day since she had become a failure and realized that her entire life was a lie built upon the bodies of her own kind.
Estinien has heard more than most, even if that number is still a mere fraction of the things Hayame swallows and buries beneath pride, anger, and the veneer of a warrior. Even now… she cannot muster the words to express how she truly feels in this situation, because even she doesn’t actually know.
But one thing that echoes in the spirit of communion, in the legacies they happened to share… is how angry she would be (how distraught) if one of the few people in this place she felt had even a chance of understanding her were to die now. How foolish she will feel if she has again put her trust in someone she should not have. … How much more alone she will feel if he is gone.
How much she doesn’t want to be alone, despite all of the biting words and violent outbursts and stone cold walls.
- But then he gives her what she asks for.
His chest moves beneath her hand in a far more noticeable inhale and Hayame’s breath freezes in her own lungs, feeling more reprieved and less insane by the second. As cracks appear upon the crystal layer formed around his body, she even dares to let herself hope, her dark eyes widening as she pressed her palm more firmly against his chest. What looked like feathers beneath the rock turn out to actually be that, to be wings somehow, there of all places?, and as the crystal continues to shatter and flake off of his form, gradually freeing him-
She instinctively moves to catch his body as it sags forward, her forelegs splaying awkwardly around his own in a scramble of hooves to support his upper body as it slumps unsupported. The weight itself is nothing for her, but it’s deadweight and she struggles to adjust him in her arms into anything remotely resembling a comfortable position, too stunned at the moment to say anything, even his name.
It worked? It half-worked? He was breathing again, his skin seemed nearly warm, but he didn’t- If she waited, would he open his eyes? Did she… if touching his shard had done this, would touching it more directly finish the job?
As her mind races and she clutches at his limp body, the sound of her own pants for breath, the pounding of her twin heartbeat in her bound chest, and the tinkling, crackling sound of shattering crystal distract her just enough to not notice the sound of someone else approaching from behind…]
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Estinien has heard more than most, even if that number is still a mere fraction of the things Hayame swallows and buries beneath pride, anger, and the veneer of a warrior. Even now… she cannot muster the words to express how she truly feels in this situation, because even she doesn’t actually know.
But one thing that echoes in the spirit of communion, in the legacies they happened to share… is how angry she would be (how distraught) if one of the few people in this place she felt had even a chance of understanding her were to die now. How foolish she will feel if she has again put her trust in someone she should not have. … How much more alone she will feel if he is gone.
How much she doesn’t want to be alone, despite all of the biting words and violent outbursts and stone cold walls.
- But then he gives her what she asks for.
His chest moves beneath her hand in a far more noticeable inhale and Hayame’s breath freezes in her own lungs, feeling more reprieved and less insane by the second. As cracks appear upon the crystal layer formed around his body, she even dares to let herself hope, her dark eyes widening as she pressed her palm more firmly against his chest. What looked like feathers beneath the rock turn out to actually be that, to be wings somehow, there of all places?, and as the crystal continues to shatter and flake off of his form, gradually freeing him-
She instinctively moves to catch his body as it sags forward, her forelegs splaying awkwardly around his own in a scramble of hooves to support his upper body as it slumps unsupported. The weight itself is nothing for her, but it’s deadweight and she struggles to adjust him in her arms into anything remotely resembling a comfortable position, too stunned at the moment to say anything, even his name.
It worked? It half-worked? He was breathing again, his skin seemed nearly warm, but he didn’t- If she waited, would he open his eyes? Did she… if touching his shard had done this, would touching it more directly finish the job?
As her mind races and she clutches at his limp body, the sound of her own pants for breath, the pounding of her twin heartbeat in her bound chest, and the tinkling, crackling sound of shattering crystal distract her just enough to not notice the sound of someone else approaching from behind…]