They had once shared certain intimacies more often. The touch of a hand, the brief embrace of friendship carefully measured to not cross the lines that Hadama had set around a starlit heart. But Maea's disappearance had created a distance between them, one that the Tidebreaker had held to for his own sake and the hurt that she had caused him, the scars she had left, even as he had forgiven her for it.
He was not so cruel as to leave her to her own devices now, however. If it could shock her out of the spiral she was descending and offer a measure of comfort, he would hold her as long as she needed something solid to anchor herself to.
He felt some of the surprised tension fade within her muscles, and felt when she relaxed enough to rest her head on his chest. She spoke, answering his question at least briefly before the descent began again. "Yes," he agreed simply, cutting off her apology. There was no softening that blow, no sugar-coating the way she had lost control. The damage she had done to them both in the grip of her powerlust. "And I provoked you to it." For that, he did not apologize. But he did shift his grip, recognizing that it could not be comfortable to be held with her feet dangling in the air. He lifted her, turning his head deftly to avoid the scrape of her curved horns as he slid an arm beneath her knees before resettling her against his chest, held cradled now as the morning light poured warm and golden through the young leaves and birdsong returned to the area around them now that the fighting had ceased.
"You are afraid of its consequences. With good reason. But if you can control it for a short while now, you should be able to train to extend that time. To work within it." He gave a slight shake of his head, his chin brushing the top of her horn along its curved edge, harmless so long as he avoided the sharply pointed tip. "Killing yourself to only injure your enemy is a poor trade."
Hadama: 659.5/740
He was not so cruel as to leave her to her own devices now, however. If it could shock her out of the spiral she was descending and offer a measure of comfort, he would hold her as long as she needed something solid to anchor herself to.
He felt some of the surprised tension fade within her muscles, and felt when she relaxed enough to rest her head on his chest. She spoke, answering his question at least briefly before the descent began again. "Yes," he agreed simply, cutting off her apology. There was no softening that blow, no sugar-coating the way she had lost control. The damage she had done to them both in the grip of her powerlust. "And I provoked you to it." For that, he did not apologize. But he did shift his grip, recognizing that it could not be comfortable to be held with her feet dangling in the air. He lifted her, turning his head deftly to avoid the scrape of her curved horns as he slid an arm beneath her knees before resettling her against his chest, held cradled now as the morning light poured warm and golden through the young leaves and birdsong returned to the area around them now that the fighting had ceased.
"You are afraid of its consequences. With good reason. But if you can control it for a short while now, you should be able to train to extend that time. To work within it." He gave a slight shake of his head, his chin brushing the top of her horn along its curved edge, harmless so long as he avoided the sharply pointed tip. "Killing yourself to only injure your enemy is a poor trade."
Hadama: 659.5/740
