Yet Hayame cannot feel anything she was once promised would come with "victory". The feeling of glory, of honor to one's master, of pride at the defeat of a proper opponent. All she feels is exhaustion, bone deep and edging on collapse after the long battle. Covered in sweat mixed with dirt and blood, the lather of exertion drips forlornly down hock and hoof. A cut across her cheek bleeds enough to bely how shallow the wound is, other small cuts and a few larger marks along her flanks weeping sluggish red where she'd been hit with impact shrapnel courtesy the heavy impacts of the Minotaur's weapon.
But she'd ended with her life, for all that was worth.
She wants to lay herself down and curl up in a corner, in her master's stable with a fresh bed of hay, and wake up realizing this was all just a dream, that this madness was not about to continue with passage through a magical "door" that would take them somehow through the black back to Oska... but she can't do that, either.]
My lord.
[They'd met and separated so many times in the heat of battle despite her efforts to stay at his side, and she inspects his condition anxiously, fingers and muscles trembling with over-exertion, her quiver empty and the string of the bow in her hand snapped.]
For Ninurrta
Yet Hayame cannot feel anything she was once promised would come with "victory". The feeling of glory, of honor to one's master, of pride at the defeat of a proper opponent. All she feels is exhaustion, bone deep and edging on collapse after the long battle. Covered in sweat mixed with dirt and blood, the lather of exertion drips forlornly down hock and hoof. A cut across her cheek bleeds enough to bely how shallow the wound is, other small cuts and a few larger marks along her flanks weeping sluggish red where she'd been hit with impact shrapnel courtesy the heavy impacts of the Minotaur's weapon.
But she'd ended with her life, for all that was worth.
She wants to lay herself down and curl up in a corner, in her master's stable with a fresh bed of hay, and wake up realizing this was all just a dream, that this madness was not about to continue with passage through a magical "door" that would take them somehow through the black back to Oska... but she can't do that, either.]
My lord.
[They'd met and separated so many times in the heat of battle despite her efforts to stay at his side, and she inspects his condition anxiously, fingers and muscles trembling with over-exertion, her quiver empty and the string of the bow in her hand snapped.]
It is almost time.