[ I told no one, he wants to tell her, because she is not the only soul who is upset with him. She is not alone, unique in that endeavor — and some part of him knows better than to voice such a sentiment. Because they are friends now, and he is still learning how to be a proper one.
The things that she says, to him, are impossible things. They speak to her insecurity and not the infallible truth of his intention and action. Had he wanted to be done with her, he would have been done. To be killed was — not impossible, but a feat that he would not have allowed to occur without being very loud, very violent and exceptionally informative about the process, the location, and the perpetrator. Even an ambush would have been hard to pull off, on him — an ambush predator, at his core.
He flounders, confused, because he cannot fathom how she came to these conclusions. Except, that part of him knows — her life, the way she was raised, the things she has had to do to find worth, the few things she demands. The fact that the harder she demands them with strength and vigor, the more likely he is to defy her; honestly, if she begged and bargained, he'd be able to acquiesce more readily. Instead, he must jump through his own mental hoops and dodge his own divinity's imposed requirements to sate her needs.
He does not mind the challenge, but sometimes — it leaves him perplexed. He cannot apologize, nor regret. All that he can do is make amends, and that is a miserable sort of friendship, lived in hindsight and the perpetual state of his atonement to her. Set does not think he has failed her, but the truth is that — hasn't he? ( Does he not always? ) ]
Okay. [ The word is small, but carries a futile sort of concession within it. ] I, scared you. I made you think I had left you behind. And you, wish I had told you what I was going to do.
Had I — done that, had I told you 'Hayame, I am going to dissipate myself to connect my soul to the Tree of Life and speak with a long-dead Shardbearer', what would you have said to me?
no subject
The things that she says, to him, are impossible things. They speak to her insecurity and not the infallible truth of his intention and action. Had he wanted to be done with her, he would have been done. To be killed was — not impossible, but a feat that he would not have allowed to occur without being very loud, very violent and exceptionally informative about the process, the location, and the perpetrator. Even an ambush would have been hard to pull off, on him — an ambush predator, at his core.
He flounders, confused, because he cannot fathom how she came to these conclusions. Except, that part of him knows — her life, the way she was raised, the things she has had to do to find worth, the few things she demands. The fact that the harder she demands them with strength and vigor, the more likely he is to defy her; honestly, if she begged and bargained, he'd be able to acquiesce more readily. Instead, he must jump through his own mental hoops and dodge his own divinity's imposed requirements to sate her needs.
He does not mind the challenge, but sometimes — it leaves him perplexed. He cannot apologize, nor regret. All that he can do is make amends, and that is a miserable sort of friendship, lived in hindsight and the perpetual state of his atonement to her. Set does not think he has failed her, but the truth is that — hasn't he? ( Does he not always? ) ]
Okay. [ The word is small, but carries a futile sort of concession within it. ] I, scared you. I made you think I had left you behind. And you, wish I had told you what I was going to do.
Had I — done that, had I told you 'Hayame, I am going to dissipate myself to connect my soul to the Tree of Life and speak with a long-dead Shardbearer', what would you have said to me?