[Are Akua's lips shaped differently than other women's? They seem capable of curling in such a specific way that she has never seen directed towards her, of being so very difficult to understand...
Or maybe that was Hayame's own problem, and her own muddled, tainted experiences. Perhaps it would be easy to just ask her if she might not... assist her with the rest of those burrs, but-]
They will.
[Her efforts... she could not fail again. She herself had succeeded muchly in the Scorched Isles, beneath the roots, but her efforts now to carry more than one person's burden... That must succeed. If it did not...]
If you would use that power of yours to defend what I bring back... I would rest easier.
[Her lower shoulder twitches instinctively at Akua's touch, a defense mechanism against errant flies, but... it is Akua. Her body settles.]
[ She said, but her hands did not stall. Hayame did not beg her to Stop, and therefore, she did not. She brushed a few twigs from her dun coat, and continued. Hayame was running herself ragged, it was obvious.
Did nobody see it? The way she cut herself in shavings? The way she would give it all, if one did not beg her to stop?
She reminded her so much of Catherine in some ways. The missing eye, the way she cut herself and dug in, even her sense of Honor, although Catherine's had always been steeped in some measure of villainy... ]
I will take this task. A villain who can bunker down is a villain who lives far longer than those who explore outward. I will ensure they stay safe.
[Hayame does not beg her to stop because... she does not want her to. If Akua is the one who initiates things, then... well, Hayame herself is not to blame. She is not the licentious one, she is simply... accommodating someone else, with no base or weak desires of her own. (It is... a process, living the belief that such things bring power. But it cannot be mistaken that she remembered. That she was trying. If she was not, she would have brushed Akua's hand away already.)
She has been cutting bits of herself away for so long. Even since this Oracle fight began... the broken leg still haunting her, the vileness Set had turned upon her in his rage, the desperation she had channeled into hunting the Objects...
Akua's hand is soothing. Practical. Of course. What she says though.. is reassuring. She actually looks just slightly more at ease, as if one burden had been lifted from her shoulders.]
... Then I will entrust them to you.
[Unlike some others who were powerful in this faction... She trusted Akua's desire to return home. To return to that place to become that god-like figure of the story. She had the Prism, before the end she would have the Wing, so if Akua would keep them...
She is silent just a moment longer, eye fluttering closed beneath the other woman's fingers, before she must to business. From the leaf-stitched makeshift saddlebags she was now using, she pulls something else wrapped in leaves, pulling back the green to reveal... a pipe.]
[ Akua's hands do pull away from Hayame in that moment. She accepts the gift from her with a sense of wonder, and as she looked down upon he pipe, she cannot help but feel a weight in this. She does not know if Hayame understands what this is, or what significance it holds.
Her fingers trace along it, almost absently, like a treasured memento. ]
Oh, Hayame. Thank you.
[ She means it, too. ]
This once belonged to someone very dear to me. [ A gift from Masego to Catherine. She had it here, and now. She did not know what it meant, for her to not be here, and Akua was, and for her to have her property. Perhaps someday... she could return it to her personally.
Though she did not even begin to hope that the Warden would be here. ]
For this, I would defend your captures with my life. It is very precious to me.
[... No. Hayame does not know the value of what she had seen in her vision and then hunted down in the field to return to Akua's hands. She does not guess how Akua will react to having it returned to her, because... Perhaps it can be blamed on how little she owned that mattered to her. She had been born and raised a slave, and she had never possessed anything of her own. Even when the Oracle looked through the time stream, it had apparently found nothing to taunt her with besides robbing her of her weapons.
But Akua... had things. The people Akua knew had things. And she...]
... You are welcome.
[Hayame watches somewhat strangely with the one dark eye left to her, briefly fascinated by the emotion right in the other woman's voice. It was that precious a thing? A... memento?]
The Oracle made it clear that you were the one it was meant for, but it did not impress why.
I am sure the Oracle does not know what this means.
[ She says, for it is held in a secret place in her heart, because it is something she cannot have — will never have the right to — even with the sacrifice she had made. Her smile is sad, tinged wth a fond memory. ]
This belonged to the Warden. The woman who killed me, once. She stole my heart from me.
[ There is no bitterness there, not anymore. ]
She was also someone I... [ This was embarrassing! ] Loved. Before our worlds were taken from us.
[Hayame refrains from saying something about how the Oracle might, because who knew what those strange things were capable of? It was not needed at the moment. She is waiting for Akua... to tell her herself.
But perhaps she wasn't quite expecting the other woman to tell her something of love. Somehow... no, it was not that she didn't think Akua capable, despite how... free-spirited she seemed. She'd even thought it was a bit... close, how she spoke about the woman who killed her. But to hear her say love, aloud like that...
She blushes almost like a maiden, even though Akua is one of three people alive who knew she wasn't. Not just love, even, but combined with-]
"Loved"... ?
[Did... she not love her anymore? She'd... killed her. Surely that was as natural a point as any for the death of affection, but... to still treasure a memento of someone who betrayed you in such a way... ?]
I suppose, in a way I still do. We had been dancing around each other for so long, Hayame. She was my Jailor, my guide. She gave me a lead of rope and gave me the tools — and then watched me fashion a noose of this same rope.
I watched her cut herself time, and time again, and then...
In the end I would not let her do so again. She killed me again, instead.
[ It was so complicated. Hard. They could never have been, really. Perhaps there had been the potential, before Liesse. Not after she turned Catherine's own people into the undead legions, and used even more of them as power for her weapon. ]
She was supposed to live her life, after that. I had... something new to do. I could not guarantee that we would see each other again, after I died.
[... The "something new", at least, Hayame thinks she understands. Or... had been equipped with a telling of events that makes her potentially able to understand. The tale of... of dying to become that god-like, spiritual figure of "Calamity"? To be paired with "Providence"? No, not a tale, no matter how much it sounded like that to her ears.
To Akua it was her life. A story, and yet not a story.]
I cannot pretend... that I understand.
[As much as she admired certain traits that the other woman possessed... her capacity for actions she'd dub villainy was not necessarily one of them, nor was her ability to then "forgive" those acts in others. But... (If that person were to disappear from Kenos tomorrow... would she cling to something he had owned?)]
This is of comfort. I do not smoke, but... sometimes I like to think that if I were, I would be just as dramatic as she when I chose to.
[ Once, Catherine had watched an invading, attacking — charging — army with a single eye (for she had one) and had lit a packet of wakeleaf in this very pipe, and smoked it, and waited, betting that they would stop before they trampled her.
She could imagine it so viscerally, even now. ]
You can rest assured if I find one of yours, I will return it, and otherwise, I will do my best to protect our oracle's items.
[... Somehow, Hayame doubts that Akua could do anything and not be dramatic about it. It's easy to imagine, the woman's dark fingers sliding elegantly along the pipe, her painted lips wrapped around the mouthpiece, the way smoke would curl off her tongue... (Ahem.)]
... It is best not to smoke, Akua. The scent will make you far too easy to track on the battlefield.
[... The time for practical input, obviously. But beyond that...]
... I will rest well, then.
[Either thing is... a good thing. The latter, more than the former, she thinks, because... what did she own that had any sentimental value? She has only her weapons, and even those... except for the arrows her brother had fletched, what worth had they? She had never owned her own clothing, any item that wasn't for hunting... But the oracle objects would be safe with Akua.
Looking around the woman's part of their camp... Hayame adds, a bit belatedly,]
- Here, perhaps... ?
[... It might be nice to get the rest of the burrs out of her coat.]
[ Her laugh is high, and delighted at the practical suggestion. ]
I do not think the Warden was ever worried about being tracked. We have a way of...drawing attention on the battlefield. However I will take your suggestion under advisement. There is no need to smoke, particularly now, hm?
[ Her eyes flash, though, with something akin to surprise at the implied request. Hayame had... always been hesitant, like a spooked creature that needed to be soothed — time, and patience were required — but here she was... now.
She did not smile but gestured to the pillows within her small pavilion. ]
Please, feel free to rest. How long has it been, since you slept?
[ And perhaps she could help her with those burrs? And her tangled mane? She'd clearly been going for a while. ]
[W- Well, the way the people in her world who had those so-called "Roles" stood out or not is none of her business, but smoke is terribly noticeable, that's still facts! Hayame was still right. She huffs under her breath about it, but doesn't make more of a fuss.
Because... she is tired. She is beyond tired. Even if it were just how much she's run herself ragged looking for the Objects and securing the camp that would be enough, but add in how poorly she's slept since she'd broken her leg... Yes, foul magic had healed the injury, but it did not take away the memory or the instinctive fear of the helplessness such an injury spelled for her kind.
Perhaps... perhaps choosing this moment to return what she'd found to Akua had all just been set up for the excuse. But.]
... It has been some time.
[For just a little while... maybe it is alright to follow the other woman's gesture towards the pillows, her desire for movement and action and not failing making her hesitate, but... eventually folding her long dun legs beneath her to lumber down onto one of the nature-made pillows. (Placing her weapons right by her hand, within easy reach.) Belatedly adding,]
... Jinba do not need to sleep as much as humans do.
[A bit of more equine biology. And something that was technically true but not necessarily the proper explanation.]
[ She is quite certain she did. She did not have any furniture for Hayame to lean against, but the Jinba would find that the earth rose behind her into something of a back, and more pillows found and handed to her. Enough that she could lean against them, and rest her head, perhaps even sleep.
Akua herself sat next to her, and placed her hand against her rump, and started to brush the burrs from her coat, and ran her fingers through her tangled tail. ]
You may stay here as long as you like. Perhaps I will find food, before you wake.
[... Yes, she does still need it. Unfortunately. The purse of lips and little shift in her expression provides the begrudging answer for that without making her admit it out loud that she's been neglecting it. And more importantly, why.
If she'd thought Akua's camp was comfortable before... Where were all these pillows come from? Actually, she does not even question it, really, because it is Akua, but. ... It is. Nice.]
I will not sleep... we have work to do.
[That is what she tells herself as she crosses her arms beneath her bound breasts, settling into the pillows with a little exhale through her nose instead of a more free person's content sigh. ... She won't say anything about the other woman's touch on her, because what if she stops if she draws attention to it? Better to just not say anything... because it felt good to have the burrs tugged gently from her dun coat and untangled from her ebony black tail, all of her showing wear since they'd become trapped at this size, too busy with battle and searches to bathe luxuriously.]
... I will rest my eyes, though.
[- She still says "eyes", even though only one (and eyelids over an empty hole) closes.
... But. Perhaps, if Akua's hand is soft, and her touch is soothing... then she cannot be blamed for nodding off for just a little while.]
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no subject
Or maybe that was Hayame's own problem, and her own muddled, tainted experiences. Perhaps it would be easy to just ask her if she might not... assist her with the rest of those burrs, but-]
They will.
[Her efforts... she could not fail again. She herself had succeeded muchly in the Scorched Isles, beneath the roots, but her efforts now to carry more than one person's burden... That must succeed. If it did not...]
If you would use that power of yours to defend what I bring back... I would rest easier.
[Her lower shoulder twitches instinctively at Akua's touch, a defense mechanism against errant flies, but... it is Akua. Her body settles.]
no subject
[ She said, but her hands did not stall. Hayame did not beg her to Stop, and therefore, she did not. She brushed a few twigs from her dun coat, and continued. Hayame was running herself ragged, it was obvious.
Did nobody see it? The way she cut herself in shavings? The way she would give it all, if one did not beg her to stop?
She reminded her so much of Catherine in some ways. The missing eye, the way she cut herself and dug in, even her sense of Honor, although Catherine's had always been steeped in some measure of villainy... ]
I will take this task. A villain who can bunker down is a villain who lives far longer than those who explore outward. I will ensure they stay safe.
no subject
She has been cutting bits of herself away for so long. Even since this Oracle fight began... the broken leg still haunting her, the vileness Set had turned upon her in his rage, the desperation she had channeled into hunting the Objects...
Akua's hand is soothing. Practical. Of course. What she says though.. is reassuring. She actually looks just slightly more at ease, as if one burden had been lifted from her shoulders.]
... Then I will entrust them to you.
[Unlike some others who were powerful in this faction... She trusted Akua's desire to return home. To return to that place to become that god-like figure of the story. She had the Prism, before the end she would have the Wing, so if Akua would keep them...
She is silent just a moment longer, eye fluttering closed beneath the other woman's fingers, before she must to business. From the leaf-stitched makeshift saddlebags she was now using, she pulls something else wrapped in leaves, pulling back the green to reveal... a pipe.]
And this, I return to you.
no subject
Her fingers trace along it, almost absently, like a treasured memento. ]
Oh, Hayame. Thank you.
[ She means it, too. ]
This once belonged to someone very dear to me. [ A gift from Masego to Catherine. She had it here, and now. She did not know what it meant, for her to not be here, and Akua was, and for her to have her property. Perhaps someday... she could return it to her personally.
Though she did not even begin to hope that the Warden would be here. ]
For this, I would defend your captures with my life. It is very precious to me.
no subject
But Akua... had things. The people Akua knew had things. And she...]
... You are welcome.
[Hayame watches somewhat strangely with the one dark eye left to her, briefly fascinated by the emotion right in the other woman's voice. It was that precious a thing? A... memento?]
The Oracle made it clear that you were the one it was meant for, but it did not impress why.
no subject
[ She says, for it is held in a secret place in her heart, because it is something she cannot have — will never have the right to — even with the sacrifice she had made. Her smile is sad, tinged wth a fond memory. ]
This belonged to the Warden. The woman who killed me, once. She stole my heart from me.
[ There is no bitterness there, not anymore. ]
She was also someone I... [ This was embarrassing! ] Loved. Before our worlds were taken from us.
no subject
But perhaps she wasn't quite expecting the other woman to tell her something of love. Somehow... no, it was not that she didn't think Akua capable, despite how... free-spirited she seemed. She'd even thought it was a bit... close, how she spoke about the woman who killed her. But to hear her say love, aloud like that...
She blushes almost like a maiden, even though Akua is one of three people alive who knew she wasn't. Not just love, even, but combined with-]
"Loved"... ?
[Did... she not love her anymore? She'd... killed her. Surely that was as natural a point as any for the death of affection, but... to still treasure a memento of someone who betrayed you in such a way... ?]
no subject
I suppose, in a way I still do. We had been dancing around each other for so long, Hayame. She was my Jailor, my guide. She gave me a lead of rope and gave me the tools — and then watched me fashion a noose of this same rope.
I watched her cut herself time, and time again, and then...
In the end I would not let her do so again. She killed me again, instead.
[ It was so complicated. Hard. They could never have been, really. Perhaps there had been the potential, before Liesse. Not after she turned Catherine's own people into the undead legions, and used even more of them as power for her weapon. ]
She was supposed to live her life, after that. I had... something new to do. I could not guarantee that we would see each other again, after I died.
no subject
To Akua it was her life. A story, and yet not a story.]
I cannot pretend... that I understand.
[As much as she admired certain traits that the other woman possessed... her capacity for actions she'd dub villainy was not necessarily one of them, nor was her ability to then "forgive" those acts in others. But... (If that person were to disappear from Kenos tomorrow... would she cling to something he had owned?)]
But if it brings you some sort of... comfort...
[Was that the word?]
Then I am honored to put it back into your hands.
no subject
Thank you, again.
This is of comfort. I do not smoke, but... sometimes I like to think that if I were, I would be just as dramatic as she when I chose to.
[ Once, Catherine had watched an invading, attacking — charging — army with a single eye (for she had one) and had lit a packet of wakeleaf in this very pipe, and smoked it, and waited, betting that they would stop before they trampled her.
She could imagine it so viscerally, even now. ]
You can rest assured if I find one of yours, I will return it, and otherwise, I will do my best to protect our oracle's items.
no subject
... It is best not to smoke, Akua. The scent will make you far too easy to track on the battlefield.
[... The time for practical input, obviously. But beyond that...]
... I will rest well, then.
[Either thing is... a good thing. The latter, more than the former, she thinks, because... what did she own that had any sentimental value? She has only her weapons, and even those... except for the arrows her brother had fletched, what worth had they? She had never owned her own clothing, any item that wasn't for hunting... But the oracle objects would be safe with Akua.
Looking around the woman's part of their camp... Hayame adds, a bit belatedly,]
- Here, perhaps... ?
[... It might be nice to get the rest of the burrs out of her coat.]
no subject
I do not think the Warden was ever worried about being tracked. We have a way of...drawing attention on the battlefield. However I will take your suggestion under advisement. There is no need to smoke, particularly now, hm?
[ Her eyes flash, though, with something akin to surprise at the implied request. Hayame had... always been hesitant, like a spooked creature that needed to be soothed — time, and patience were required — but here she was... now.
She did not smile but gestured to the pillows within her small pavilion. ]
Please, feel free to rest. How long has it been, since you slept?
[ And perhaps she could help her with those burrs? And her tangled mane? She'd clearly been going for a while. ]
no subject
Because... she is tired. She is beyond tired. Even if it were just how much she's run herself ragged looking for the Objects and securing the camp that would be enough, but add in how poorly she's slept since she'd broken her leg... Yes, foul magic had healed the injury, but it did not take away the memory or the instinctive fear of the helplessness such an injury spelled for her kind.
Perhaps... perhaps choosing this moment to return what she'd found to Akua had all just been set up for the excuse. But.]
... It has been some time.
[For just a little while... maybe it is alright to follow the other woman's gesture towards the pillows, her desire for movement and action and not failing making her hesitate, but... eventually folding her long dun legs beneath her to lumber down onto one of the nature-made pillows. (Placing her weapons right by her hand, within easy reach.) Belatedly adding,]
... Jinba do not need to sleep as much as humans do.
[A bit of more equine biology. And something that was technically true but not necessarily the proper explanation.]
no subject
[ She is quite certain she did. She did not have any furniture for Hayame to lean against, but the Jinba would find that the earth rose behind her into something of a back, and more pillows found and handed to her. Enough that she could lean against them, and rest her head, perhaps even sleep.
Akua herself sat next to her, and placed her hand against her rump, and started to brush the burrs from her coat, and ran her fingers through her tangled tail. ]
You may stay here as long as you like. Perhaps I will find food, before you wake.
no subject
If she'd thought Akua's camp was comfortable before... Where were all these pillows come from? Actually, she does not even question it, really, because it is Akua, but. ... It is. Nice.]
I will not sleep... we have work to do.
[That is what she tells herself as she crosses her arms beneath her bound breasts, settling into the pillows with a little exhale through her nose instead of a more free person's content sigh. ... She won't say anything about the other woman's touch on her, because what if she stops if she draws attention to it? Better to just not say anything... because it felt good to have the burrs tugged gently from her dun coat and untangled from her ebony black tail, all of her showing wear since they'd become trapped at this size, too busy with battle and searches to bathe luxuriously.]
... I will rest my eyes, though.
[- She still says "eyes", even though only one (and eyelids over an empty hole) closes.
... But. Perhaps, if Akua's hand is soft, and her touch is soothing... then she cannot be blamed for nodding off for just a little while.]