What was wrong with her? What in the damn Twelve was wrong with the proud huntress he used to know? Her hand made him come to a halt like the heaviest chainball. He became completely motionless, with his back still turned to her and something akin to surprise creeping up to his luckily hidden eyes. Then there was that weak plea, soft like rain and deafening like thunder, and K’rahto’s brow furrowed darkly. What was… wrong…
There was no answer just yet, no movement from the shocked Tia. He almost turned to look at her; almost. Perhaps he could abuse that weakness now, be the stronger one as she seemed to break for any reason, or just be her puppet once more as she did whatever she pleased with his pride. And none of his poisonous thoughts was something he needed. Nothing he needed; she was nothing he needed. And right now, neither was he something she’d need to be the strong miqo’te she’d always displayed herself as. Almost turned, but instead he removed his hand with a rapid, abrupt movement, as if she burnt—and she did. The next steps sought to take him away, far away from K’nahli Yohko.
There was no answer just yet, no movement from the shocked Tia. He almost turned to look at her; almost. Perhaps he could abuse that weakness now, be the stronger one as she seemed to break for any reason, or just be her puppet once more as she did whatever she pleased with his pride. And none of his poisonous thoughts was something he needed. Nothing he needed; she was nothing he needed. And right now, neither was he something she’d need to be the strong miqo’te she’d always displayed herself as. Almost turned, but instead he removed his hand with a rapid, abrupt movement, as if she burnt—and she did. The next steps sought to take him away, far away from K’nahli Yohko.
Clover Blake (Hyur) /Â K'mih Yohko (Miqo'te)