[He asks if something should not be normal, and Hayame can not answer him. What did she know of what was normal for any world but her own. She may have spent months and months in Horos, now Kenos, but that did not mean she had begun to understand all of these people and all of their cultures. Honestly, she did not think herself capable, even if she wanted to.
And even if he says it is not sympathy or pity... She did not need him to recognize it. Not when that reminded her to be ashamed of how many years of her life she had spent intentionally not doing that. Lying to herself, letting herself be deceived into thinking that she was better than the Armless, that she was different from the other jinba in the breeding stables.
She wasn't. And it was cruel.]
"Have they actually said that to me"? Now you call me a liar?
[He thinks that's tidy?]
I have battled their demon myself, and the slaver elf confessed to watching him devour a soul.
[It is pure hatred in her voice, and in her eye. Something personal. (As personal, say, as her empty left eye socket covered with a leather eyepatch. The demon had plucked it out so skillfully that there wasn't a single scar on the outside. As personal as a man who has repeatedly insulted her by calling her a "slave" as if he knew, as if he was-)]
For every Zenite who has just sadly come to believe their world is gone, I will show you one who either loves destruction or thinks themselves a god.
no subject
And even if he says it is not sympathy or pity... She did not need him to recognize it. Not when that reminded her to be ashamed of how many years of her life she had spent intentionally not doing that. Lying to herself, letting herself be deceived into thinking that she was better than the Armless, that she was different from the other jinba in the breeding stables.
She wasn't. And it was cruel.]
"Have they actually said that to me"? Now you call me a liar?
[He thinks that's tidy?]
I have battled their demon myself, and the slaver elf confessed to watching him devour a soul.
[It is pure hatred in her voice, and in her eye. Something personal. (As personal, say, as her empty left eye socket covered with a leather eyepatch. The demon had plucked it out so skillfully that there wasn't a single scar on the outside. As personal as a man who has repeatedly insulted her by calling her a "slave" as if he knew, as if he was-)]
For every Zenite who has just sadly come to believe their world is gone, I will show you one who either loves destruction or thinks themselves a god.