[ The piece of Hayame that he holds against the dark sands, full of sand and blood and terror and wrath, is the piece that leads him to her. Fully into her mind, into that strange corner where they share a boundary and seek one another out for contested conversations and pledges that sometimes act like bandages placed over ever-bleeding injuries they cause one another. Her agony will lead him straight to her, to the waking mind where she hunches upon herself in indignity, in paranoia; the spent sprawl of her limbs remind her, so much, of a dark evening where he had been left in ruins.
It's almost too much for him to bear, almost causes him to spin around and leave her. He has never pretended to be anything but selfish, driven by his own unknowable design. A set of parameters given to him by reality, between which he bounces and acts. Instead, he carries her fragment to her self, and dips his hand low — that piece of her she'd allowed to hide with him tipped like a palmful of water against the space where her shard would be. His hand warm and firm and unyielding as he rests it against her upper heart and folds to his knees alongside her. ]
He is not a liar. [ She must know that. ] Precise are his words, and they are always born out of some type of truth. The thing about the truth he speaks is that it is not absolute. You will always have the freedom to change, and force him to follow.
[ Hayame is not powerless, in the face of a demon. But it is not physical strength that will save her, it is resolve within her heart. What he knows about Sebastian Michaelis is, perhaps, more than most; he keeps secrets about the creature, because theirs is an immortal's game. A grudge between them would be biblical, catastrophic. But, as a friend to Hayame and a god to her warrior and a Meridian companion, he hopes he can help her come back from this. He bites his lip, because he is not good at these things. He knows he can speak logically to her, explain to her how such a thing came to be and what it means, but.
That might not be what she needs. ]
I found you.
[ He says that instead, reaching out to fold her shoulders in his arms and hold her. ]
no subject
It's almost too much for him to bear, almost causes him to spin around and leave her. He has never pretended to be anything but selfish, driven by his own unknowable design. A set of parameters given to him by reality, between which he bounces and acts. Instead, he carries her fragment to her self, and dips his hand low — that piece of her she'd allowed to hide with him tipped like a palmful of water against the space where her shard would be. His hand warm and firm and unyielding as he rests it against her upper heart and folds to his knees alongside her. ]
He is not a liar. [ She must know that. ] Precise are his words, and they are always born out of some type of truth. The thing about the truth he speaks is that it is not absolute. You will always have the freedom to change, and force him to follow.
[ Hayame is not powerless, in the face of a demon. But it is not physical strength that will save her, it is resolve within her heart. What he knows about Sebastian Michaelis is, perhaps, more than most; he keeps secrets about the creature, because theirs is an immortal's game. A grudge between them would be biblical, catastrophic. But, as a friend to Hayame and a god to her warrior and a Meridian companion, he hopes he can help her come back from this. He bites his lip, because he is not good at these things. He knows he can speak logically to her, explain to her how such a thing came to be and what it means, but.
That might not be what she needs. ]
I found you.
[ He says that instead, reaching out to fold her shoulders in his arms and hold her. ]
I have you.