[Hayame had only met the birdling called Meteion once, in the streets of Venera that first time she had been drawn to the place by the supernatural call of an entity that now had touched Estinien and marked him, invaded him. She remembered her as a slight, naive little creature... and yet she feels no horror for the idea of her struck down by Estinien's lance. Smaller, more innocent things than that died every day... and she was an enemy, a potential threat, if she was not a known ally.
She should have done the same to Liem, to Barnaby. Just taken their shards by force. If she had... If she had not failed-]
... Two sunrises can be done.
[She suspected it may even be less, seeing that a day had passed in which she'd noticed his absence, traveled here by those accursed portals and a hard gallop on legs repaired by the magic she distrusted so. Relieved that Estinien sees the sense in her caution, Hayame turns to accompany the man out of the shrine... but before she does...
She fixes Naruhodo with a withering stare, long and uncomfortable. Could he truly be trusted with a task such as this? He, who could not even obey a simple instruction to not turn his eyes upon something, who could not give a proper, succinct report? ... She does not know, but he is who is there, and Estinien has expressed no doubt. So rather than risk him bringing more people to this place in his fussy complaints about clothing-]
Do not whine so about nakedness, of all things.
[At a time like this? If she's aware of how hypocritical this makes her, when she had flushed with shame to be seen with her hand on Estinien's not moments ago, she certainly does not act it. (It was different, she was a mare grown, and it was the woman who would be shamed, anyway, not the man-)
Hayame's hand disappears into one of the two saddlebags slung over her withers, where every single thing (so few things) that she owned were located. Fishing about inside by sense of touch, she pulls out a simple piece of cloth, folds it even smaller, and tosses it Ryunosuke's way. It's her own spare shirt, a simple sage green homespun without sleeves that wraps and ties... and though it is but a shirt, it is long so that Hayame can fold it up and cushion the bite of her "waist" harness, so on a thing as slight as Meteion was, it would make a modest enough short smock.]
Dress her when she wakes, then, and contact us for our location.
[With one last look that sought to impress upon him the importance of this task... Hayame gathers herself and turns, trying to disguise the way she watches the other man mindfully for any sign he may need support or for her to slow her pace while he is yet newly uncrystallized.]
Come, Estinien....
[He had a communion to make, she had a fellow Firebrand to guard, Naruhodo had a shard to watch vigil over, and Meteion... had a sect waiting to hear from her about the place called Achamoth.]
no subject
She should have done the same to Liem, to Barnaby. Just taken their shards by force. If she had... If she had not failed-]
... Two sunrises can be done.
[She suspected it may even be less, seeing that a day had passed in which she'd noticed his absence, traveled here by those accursed portals and a hard gallop on legs repaired by the magic she distrusted so. Relieved that Estinien sees the sense in her caution, Hayame turns to accompany the man out of the shrine... but before she does...
She fixes Naruhodo with a withering stare, long and uncomfortable. Could he truly be trusted with a task such as this? He, who could not even obey a simple instruction to not turn his eyes upon something, who could not give a proper, succinct report? ... She does not know, but he is who is there, and Estinien has expressed no doubt. So rather than risk him bringing more people to this place in his fussy complaints about clothing-]
Do not whine so about nakedness, of all things.
[At a time like this? If she's aware of how hypocritical this makes her, when she had flushed with shame to be seen with her hand on Estinien's not moments ago, she certainly does not act it. (It was different, she was a mare grown, and it was the woman who would be shamed, anyway, not the man-)
Hayame's hand disappears into one of the two saddlebags slung over her withers, where every single thing (so few things) that she owned were located. Fishing about inside by sense of touch, she pulls out a simple piece of cloth, folds it even smaller, and tosses it Ryunosuke's way. It's her own spare shirt, a simple sage green homespun without sleeves that wraps and ties... and though it is but a shirt, it is long so that Hayame can fold it up and cushion the bite of her "waist" harness, so on a thing as slight as Meteion was, it would make a modest enough short smock.]
Dress her when she wakes, then, and contact us for our location.
[With one last look that sought to impress upon him the importance of this task... Hayame gathers herself and turns, trying to disguise the way she watches the other man mindfully for any sign he may need support or for her to slow her pace while he is yet newly uncrystallized.]
Come, Estinien....
[He had a communion to make, she had a fellow Firebrand to guard, Naruhodo had a shard to watch vigil over, and Meteion... had a sect waiting to hear from her about the place called Achamoth.]