[Somehow, in this space of hearts and minds, where it is spirits and not true bodies that meet… it does not seem strange to Hayame that this man (this god) has a shape that is fluid, that one moment he is yay tall and the next he is able to look her in the eyes.
Eye.
When she wakes, she will wonder if there is a strand of her hair that retains that crimson stain even in the true world. Through their touch she feels… everything of him- or rather, vague impressions of everything, both disorienting and grounding… and… she lets go of his wrist, though not before she squeezes it in her grip as if to remind him that she had taken it in the first place. From there… she bows her head just slightly to accept his boon. It is difficult, in this place where their essences are bare… to deny his divinity, no matter how she might have doubted elsewhere.
The blizzard still rages in her “lands”. But as if they have passed into the eye of the storm, the bitter wind and whip of ice is eerily still around only them and the line where cold snow bleeds into hot sand.]
I am Hayame.
[Someone who has never prayed. The gods of men never answered jinba, and she had been raised ignorant of her own kind’s natural worship. But now… she finds enough experience to cobble together her own version of worship.]
If you desire battle, then the violence I do in this world may be yours. If there is an offering you desire more… I would have you name it.
[She could be the woman he had met in the dryad roots, half feral with the surge to fight and a demon’s blood in her mouth, but she could also be this. And if she finds irony in the fact that she who feels so lonely in these foreign worlds might finally find someone willing to stand by her side only for that person to be War…
no subject
Eye.
When she wakes, she will wonder if there is a strand of her hair that retains that crimson stain even in the true world. Through their touch she feels… everything of him- or rather, vague impressions of everything, both disorienting and grounding… and… she lets go of his wrist, though not before she squeezes it in her grip as if to remind him that she had taken it in the first place. From there… she bows her head just slightly to accept his boon. It is difficult, in this place where their essences are bare… to deny his divinity, no matter how she might have doubted elsewhere.
The blizzard still rages in her “lands”. But as if they have passed into the eye of the storm, the bitter wind and whip of ice is eerily still around only them and the line where cold snow bleeds into hot sand.]
I am Hayame.
[Someone who has never prayed. The gods of men never answered jinba, and she had been raised ignorant of her own kind’s natural worship. But now… she finds enough experience to cobble together her own version of worship.]
If you desire battle, then the violence I do in this world may be yours. If there is an offering you desire more… I would have you name it.
[She could be the woman he had met in the dryad roots, half feral with the surge to fight and a demon’s blood in her mouth, but she could also be this. And if she finds irony in the fact that she who feels so lonely in these foreign worlds might finally find someone willing to stand by her side only for that person to be War…
Perhaps that is what she deserves.]