[ Every moment spent out here feels drawn out. Torturous. Laborious (and that has very little to do with the very heavy man draped mostly on top of her) in a way that grates on her raw nerves because every minute out here means that she runs the risk of running into more Imperial soldiers that she definitely would not be able to outrun given the circumstances. Which begs the question: If that were to happen, would she leave him?
His question feels like it hits home harder than he intends it to. Unbeknownst to him she feels her nerves ripple and alight once more as heat rises to her cheeks that has less to do with the exertion of each step she takes back towards the Leicester Alliance's camp and more to do with shame that chases at her heels. The reality of everything she had just done (to survive, to save her own ass, to keep her friends alive -) clashes once more with the reality of having slain familiar faces. Faces that she had had tea with, had laughed with.
Her fingers flex around the hilt of Freikugel that she drags behind them on the ground. Why is she helping him? And would she continue to if they ran into trouble? It would be easier to run and say that she tried, wouldn't it? Through the din of the voices in her head that accuse her of cowardice she responds to him quietly but with no less conviction echoing what she'd thought moments before. ]
[ The response is immediate; he doesn't even need to think about whether or not he deserves something so basic as survival. Her healing is wasted on him, better spent on someone who hasn't been nothing but a wandering corpse.
He keeps walking, though. If the world has deemed it so that he must trudge on, then trudge on he will. ]
You wouldn't be saving me if you knew what I've done.
[ It isn't a threat, just a blunt statement of fact. The blood on his hands is metaphorical, but it is there, staining everything he touches deep crimson. His body hasn't stopped aching for five years, the acute pain of each time he's been stabbed or shot through with an arrow. That anger that has always simmered away inside of him, roused out of it's slumber into a howling crazed beast, lingers just out of what's left of his vision, whispering into his ear to kill, kill, kill. It's all he's good for until he takes that woman's head.
Still, a part of him thinks he should be grateful to Hilda. At least this way he still has a chance of letting his father and stepmother rest. ]
[ If he had stopped walking, if he had simply given up it probably would have incited a rage that so very few people got to see. The ones who had were somewhere on this battle field, unable to tell others what they had seen. (If they had, what would they say? A pint sized flash of pink wielding an axe made of bone felt like a ridiculous notion to her even though it was a well-known, poorly kept secret that she was far more of a threat than she wishes she were.) And the others were those that she trusted far above and beyond any faith that she might have for Fodlan's Goddess were, hopefully, somewhere safe.
Instead, the Boar Prince receives a fraction of what he would have been subjected to had he simply laid down on the cold hard earth. For a moment his despondent response makes her second guess her actions. For a split second, he makes her feel like what she knows is right into something bitter on her tongue. Annoyance splits across her face manifesting into mild venom. ]
What are you talking about?
[ Her head turns towards him, or rather, up at him with a gaze full of fury. ]
Look where we are. Look at what all of us just did. If that's the case then no one deserves to keep living after this.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
His question feels like it hits home harder than he intends it to. Unbeknownst to him she feels her nerves ripple and alight once more as heat rises to her cheeks that has less to do with the exertion of each step she takes back towards the Leicester Alliance's camp and more to do with shame that chases at her heels. The reality of everything she had just done (to survive, to save her own ass, to keep her friends alive -) clashes once more with the reality of having slain familiar faces. Faces that she had had tea with, had laughed with.
Her fingers flex around the hilt of Freikugel that she drags behind them on the ground. Why is she helping him? And would she continue to if they ran into trouble? It would be easier to run and say that she tried, wouldn't it? Through the din of the voices in her head that accuse her of cowardice she responds to him quietly but with no less conviction echoing what she'd thought moments before. ]
Because nobody deserves to die out here.
no subject
[ The response is immediate; he doesn't even need to think about whether or not he deserves something so basic as survival. Her healing is wasted on him, better spent on someone who hasn't been nothing but a wandering corpse.
He keeps walking, though. If the world has deemed it so that he must trudge on, then trudge on he will. ]
You wouldn't be saving me if you knew what I've done.
[ It isn't a threat, just a blunt statement of fact. The blood on his hands is metaphorical, but it is there, staining everything he touches deep crimson. His body hasn't stopped aching for five years, the acute pain of each time he's been stabbed or shot through with an arrow. That anger that has always simmered away inside of him, roused out of it's slumber into a howling crazed beast, lingers just out of what's left of his vision, whispering into his ear to kill, kill, kill. It's all he's good for until he takes that woman's head.
Still, a part of him thinks he should be grateful to Hilda. At least this way he still has a chance of letting his father and stepmother rest. ]
no subject
Instead, the Boar Prince receives a fraction of what he would have been subjected to had he simply laid down on the cold hard earth. For a moment his despondent response makes her second guess her actions. For a split second, he makes her feel like what she knows is right into something bitter on her tongue. Annoyance splits across her face manifesting into mild venom. ]
What are you talking about?
[ Her head turns towards him, or rather, up at him with a gaze full of fury. ]
Look where we are. Look at what all of us just did. If that's the case then no one deserves to keep living after this.