[The ways may be small, some of them slightly awkward with inexperience and a lack of use, but they are... there. The same hand had that had held out the blade he had given her in offer for taking the head of his kill in Venera (honor) now extends with the food she has made herself (sustenance), but despite the vast difference between what she offers... to her, they are both "care". Even if they aren't as natural or as easy as they would be for perhaps most anyone else, Hayame thinks... How had Matsukaze looked, when he held out those rice balls to the boy she herself had labeled a demon? How had she watched his sister interact with that armless beau of hers, fussing and fixing... How had her own brother's hand felt, when he clasped hers in his and promised that he wold make her a warlord's horse? The care she has received and seen in her life has been sparse and few, and but-
She remembers it. She can... try. She can nod when he thanks her, her version of "you're welcome" when saying such a thing out loud and acknowledging it would be almost strangely embarrassing.
As she chews her own piece of jerky, she wonders... how does he do it? She had barely managed to get through her own first attempt at a mass communion when she'd needed just some writing for a sign, and then only a few people had filled her head (heart? shard?) with outrage or disbelief, but his message... (Perhaps... He was stronger than her. Or perhaps that is simply something you became capable of... when you were trying to do what he was.)]
I will not allow that.
[... It's a lofty claim, to be sure, but she sounds sure when she says it, without more than a beat between when his mouth closes and hers opens. Belatedly... She realizes that isn't enough, of course not-]
... Now that we know it is effective. Appealing to the shards.
[Perhaps that is what to call it, the strangely terrifying and intimate act of allowing another aion to brush up against the shard that functioned as their "soul". But even saying it... She was not the one who was forced to slumber. She did not know.
Her dark eyes slide as subtly as she can towards his face, and the grotesque wings attached to the side of his head. Those things...]
I am no entertainer, but if I might offer some manner of diversion...
[... If it were Matsukaze, he would know what to do. Even Kohibari would. Koume would. Yubari would. Any jinba that could have been saved but her. In a time like this, when all she can think to offer is her blade again... Would they offer a song? A tale? A flank to sleep upon that was warm and comforting with a double thrum pulse of paired hearts? She isn't sure, and her voice trails away.]
no subject
She remembers it. She can... try. She can nod when he thanks her, her version of "you're welcome" when saying such a thing out loud and acknowledging it would be almost strangely embarrassing.
As she chews her own piece of jerky, she wonders... how does he do it? She had barely managed to get through her own first attempt at a mass communion when she'd needed just some writing for a sign, and then only a few people had filled her head (heart? shard?) with outrage or disbelief, but his message... (Perhaps... He was stronger than her. Or perhaps that is simply something you became capable of... when you were trying to do what he was.)]
I will not allow that.
[... It's a lofty claim, to be sure, but she sounds sure when she says it, without more than a beat between when his mouth closes and hers opens. Belatedly... She realizes that isn't enough, of course not-]
... Now that we know it is effective. Appealing to the shards.
[Perhaps that is what to call it, the strangely terrifying and intimate act of allowing another aion to brush up against the shard that functioned as their "soul". But even saying it... She was not the one who was forced to slumber. She did not know.
Her dark eyes slide as subtly as she can towards his face, and the grotesque wings attached to the side of his head. Those things...]
I am no entertainer, but if I might offer some manner of diversion...
[... If it were Matsukaze, he would know what to do. Even Kohibari would. Koume would. Yubari would. Any jinba that could have been saved but her. In a time like this, when all she can think to offer is her blade again... Would they offer a song? A tale? A flank to sleep upon that was warm and comforting with a double thrum pulse of paired hearts? She isn't sure, and her voice trails away.]