[If she had heard even a hint of sarcasm or mockery in his tone, her response would have been swift and burning… But she does not. And so she answers just as honestly.]
They must still be there. We have simply been ripped away… or fallen through the cracks.
[That much she can believe, over entire worlds full of life simply unmade for no discernible rhyme or reason than some woman who masqueraded as her mother claiming that “all things die”.
The world of shared hearts and minds is… strange. Hayame had hardly noticed, somehow, that he had not been a man before… and yet now when he coalesces before her he undoubtably is. Had she been a woman, or just the cold, lonely peaks of snowy mountains she would never see again? He comes closer to her clad in heat and sand and sun and she stands at the barrier between them, wrapped in cold and ice and stone like armor that hides any sort of warmth and longing beneath it.
In actual life… she would never let him close enough to her to do what he does. She would break his wrist for even trying, but one moment he is apart and then he was there, she can almost feel the trace of his fingertips over the curve of her face, and beneath the blizzard she clads herself in… She shivers.
Hayame conceptualizes herself without the eye, because she cannot lie to herself that it is there. But it had not been exposed, because she cannot bear its loss. When Set speaks of it, though… there is a moment when it is, when his fingers almost caress the line of her socket beside an empty hole, raw and exposed with the shriveled remains of her optic nerve bloody and inflamed deep in her skull, her eyelids and lashes framing only a gaping, painful emptiness. An eyeball plucked out so cleanly and cruelly it hadn’t left a single trace of scrape or cut behind on her face.
The eye that remains to her burns, hateful and pathetic and strong in contrast to the cold.
She does not respond to the question of whether she will become more vicious to overcome the shortcomings of her new lack, because it should be obvious. She will. But as for the rest-]
All demons are rotten.
[She doesn’t view the one she’d had the misfortune to encounter as more or less vicious than another.
Cw: eye stuff
They must still be there. We have simply been ripped away… or fallen through the cracks.
[That much she can believe, over entire worlds full of life simply unmade for no discernible rhyme or reason than some woman who masqueraded as her mother claiming that “all things die”.
The world of shared hearts and minds is… strange. Hayame had hardly noticed, somehow, that he had not been a man before… and yet now when he coalesces before her he undoubtably is. Had she been a woman, or just the cold, lonely peaks of snowy mountains she would never see again? He comes closer to her clad in heat and sand and sun and she stands at the barrier between them, wrapped in cold and ice and stone like armor that hides any sort of warmth and longing beneath it.
In actual life… she would never let him close enough to her to do what he does. She would break his wrist for even trying, but one moment he is apart and then he was there, she can almost feel the trace of his fingertips over the curve of her face, and beneath the blizzard she clads herself in… She shivers.
Hayame conceptualizes herself without the eye, because she cannot lie to herself that it is there. But it had not been exposed, because she cannot bear its loss. When Set speaks of it, though… there is a moment when it is, when his fingers almost caress the line of her socket beside an empty hole, raw and exposed with the shriveled remains of her optic nerve bloody and inflamed deep in her skull, her eyelids and lashes framing only a gaping, painful emptiness. An eyeball plucked out so cleanly and cruelly it hadn’t left a single trace of scrape or cut behind on her face.
The eye that remains to her burns, hateful and pathetic and strong in contrast to the cold.
She does not respond to the question of whether she will become more vicious to overcome the shortcomings of her new lack, because it should be obvious. She will. But as for the rest-]
All demons are rotten.
[She doesn’t view the one she’d had the misfortune to encounter as more or less vicious than another.
That was just what they were.]