[ It is unbecoming for a prince to show weakness. In comparison to his father's unrelenting, unyielding willpower, he is a fractional thing - divided between his own fears and needs, unable to transcend them. His hands shake, tucked into the pockets of his ALASTAIR-issued uniform jacket as they are to hide the fact, and though his injuries are lighter than some, he is ragged with exhaustion.
Hayame finds him, like this.
Tired, overworked. His knees buckling and heart still racing with leftover adrenaline. As she nears him, he reaches for her - a shocking thing, how easily he's begun to lay a hand upon this woman-warrior that he leads and is responsible for. Such a thing would never happen, in their respective worlds. Yet, this is not either of those places, and perhaps she won't be adverse to the hand he rests on her forearm, for now. ]
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Hayame finds him, like this.
Tired, overworked. His knees buckling and heart still racing with leftover adrenaline. As she nears him, he reaches for her - a shocking thing, how easily he's begun to lay a hand upon this woman-warrior that he leads and is responsible for. Such a thing would never happen, in their respective worlds. Yet, this is not either of those places, and perhaps she won't be adverse to the hand he rests on her forearm, for now. ]
Hayame.
[ Even his voice sounds weary. ]
Do you think this is how it will always be?