Breaking Down These Lonely Walls

[Flamebird]

Felicity had been shocked by the series of events Hayate caused. Embarrassed that he snuck up behind her, blown away that his Corpse King destroyed the wall, then... bewildered by his words.

The switch from the brawl fueled by negativity was rough and felt like swallowing a spiked thorn. He just decided to stop, and spoke with gentler words. She stood there, still ducked from when his ethereal skeleton's fist was milometers from crushing her. The wind from the ash clouds outside ruffled their hair as he explained himself, his motives, and what her's should be.

The soft, almost playful prod with his metal finger managed to jostle a rather stunned individual.

The wreckage of the room was drawing attention from outside. Felicity turned to see that several people were pointing through the broken walls to the horrific room. The desk and chairs were completely scrapped. Books and small objects laid everywhere on the floor. Felicity's anger finally started to simmer down as she realized just how far it had been taken - by her. As wood and glass still fell and shattered by the newly made sun roof, Hayate's words finally started to settle in.

She turned, eyes wide, towards him again. Dumbfounded. "This... was all just a..." Was the word gimmick? Test? What could describe what just went down. And his gentle answer, it was quite the contrast to her wrath. Was it justified? He admitted a wrong, showed signs of courtesy. The image of a proper, regal shinobi entered her mind again. The honor bound Akashiman who actually let her win their Citadel fight when he had her cornered. Her face burned red as uncomfortable humbleness trickled into her heart like a foul liquid. He had always been, still was, the better of the two.

She looked down, the dim sunlight was reflecting off the shattered glass of a beer bottle. She subconsciously fiddled with her fingers as she felt the full heat of shame fill her cup of emotion. "I..."

She closed her eyes. She was such an idiot! Sure, she was mad at his actions, but it hardly justified her fit of rage - the actions or the words. "I..."

She reached back and rubbed her neck. "Uh, I'm, um, sorry I broke your stuff... and screamed at you..." She swallowed hard, tears flooding her eyes, "... called you a b-baby..."