[If this were any other day, in any other place, perhaps that attack would have left her convulsing upon the ground clutching helplessly at a bloodied face, her large, strong body rendered useless by the shock her kind were slightly weak to. But whether Hayame or her opponent realize it… the Firebrand moon is rising, and no matter how much disdain Hayame feels for the idea that she would be claimed by such a legacy… Claim her it had. She is stronger now, more durable now, and though she wasn’t faster enough now to dodge the blows of a demon who moved like the wind-
The pain of her own arrow digging into her back is nothing in comparison to the ball of fire that is the left side of her face. The snarl and snap of a man with sharp teeth is nothing to a woman whose canines are just as sharp, who instinctively bares them back, tightening her grip on the man’s jacket-
And slamming her skull right back into his. There is less force, reacting to meet him rather than attacking, but thankfully for Hayame a jinba’s skull is thicker than a human’s, and the Firebrand bolsters, flaring to life the more she needs of it. The pain almost seems to focus her, she has an enemy right in front of her she needs to kill before he kills her, she has to trample him underfoot until his face wouldn’t even be recognizable to his own godsdamned mother.
An it’s an enemy who is slipping, falling… and then isn’t. He’s catching, kicking, and thankfully the armor absorbs some of the impact and it pushes her back rather than breaks ribs, giving her time to stomp, to feel the give and hear the crack of bone. But it isn’t enough. They’re both propelled away from each other, there’s a moment to gather her strength where she sways on her shaking limbs, crimson weeping hot down her cheek like tears she has always struggled to shed.
It was gone. Her eye was gone.
Hayame’s bow clatters to the ground. Her hand moves instinctively to find what had been lost and instead there is only pounding thunder and lightning flashes of pain, deep in her head in the back of her socket where Estinien’s blood mixes with hers. An archer with a single eye, a pathetic excuse for a mare with no sight on her left… If this were her world-
It isn’t. But her haunches still bunch as tightly as if she would need to flee from the fate of an Armless, her anger still bursts into flames much like the name of her legacy, and another primal scream of rage and blinding pain tears from her throat as she regards the man who has taken from her, who still has the audacity to stand and make ready-
She charges, ready to wrap her bare hands around his throat and snap it, to simply slam her superior weight into him to crush him against a wall behind him if she needed to, but instead, just as they get close once again, ready to strike…
Thick, wet ropes of the wounded Innocent entity’s blood fall heavy and viscous from the sky with a strange, pleroma-laden glow.]
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The pain of her own arrow digging into her back is nothing in comparison to the ball of fire that is the left side of her face. The snarl and snap of a man with sharp teeth is nothing to a woman whose canines are just as sharp, who instinctively bares them back, tightening her grip on the man’s jacket-
And slamming her skull right back into his. There is less force, reacting to meet him rather than attacking, but thankfully for Hayame a jinba’s skull is thicker than a human’s, and the Firebrand bolsters, flaring to life the more she needs of it. The pain almost seems to focus her, she has an enemy right in front of her she needs to kill before he kills her, she has to trample him underfoot until his face wouldn’t even be recognizable to his own godsdamned mother.
An it’s an enemy who is slipping, falling… and then isn’t. He’s catching, kicking, and thankfully the armor absorbs some of the impact and it pushes her back rather than breaks ribs, giving her time to stomp, to feel the give and hear the crack of bone. But it isn’t enough. They’re both propelled away from each other, there’s a moment to gather her strength where she sways on her shaking limbs, crimson weeping hot down her cheek like tears she has always struggled to shed.
It was gone. Her eye was gone.
Hayame’s bow clatters to the ground. Her hand moves instinctively to find what had been lost and instead there is only pounding thunder and lightning flashes of pain, deep in her head in the back of her socket where Estinien’s blood mixes with hers. An archer with a single eye, a pathetic excuse for a mare with no sight on her left… If this were her world-
It isn’t. But her haunches still bunch as tightly as if she would need to flee from the fate of an Armless, her anger still bursts into flames much like the name of her legacy, and another primal scream of rage and blinding pain tears from her throat as she regards the man who has taken from her, who still has the audacity to stand and make ready-
She charges, ready to wrap her bare hands around his throat and snap it, to simply slam her superior weight into him to crush him against a wall behind him if she needed to, but instead, just as they get close once again, ready to strike…
Thick, wet ropes of the wounded Innocent entity’s blood fall heavy and viscous from the sky with a strange, pleroma-laden glow.]