Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch | Male | 17 | Demisexual | Ambi | Physical - Weapon Knowledge | Mentions; Everyone(Dir/Ind).

--

After a stretch of silence, it watched as Briar stood. The question hadn’t really been a question then. That made sense. The illusion of choice was common enough to understand. It still had to try and not tense as Briar left its line of sight, and more so when hands took hold of its hair. The hands were surprisingly gentle though, and it couldn’t hold back the tension from that fact. The main wielder wouldn’t be happy about any of this, wasn’t happy about any of this, but if he walked in to see Briar gently braiding its hair? It still couldn’t speak though. And, besides that, Briar wouldn’t be corrected. Not if it could convince the main wielder. It could deal with extra corrections.

--

Silence continued to last for a while and it debated going through everything it knew to find something that would work to convince the main wielder. But before it could decide either way, Briar began talking.

--

“You know, I used to be obsessed with books as a kid. Specifically fairytales. I thought that everything would be so much easier and cooler if I just had powers. If I could fly or go invisible or something. I was kinda a lonely kid though, so, thinking back, books were probably just a good way to escape reality. I looked up to Superman and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. An odd combo, I know, but I thought they were so cool! Superman with his strength and flight, hell, he was from space! An alien that came to Earth and, even though he was different, became this beloved superhero that saved the world on countless occasions! Then there was Belle, just a normal girl who loved to read and was kinda a loner. Then, she proved her strength and bravery by going to save her father from the Beast. When she got there, she ended up seeing the Beast differently than anyone else could. She looked at him and saw humanity. I always thought that was pretty cool.”

--

It wasn’t too sure what Briar was talking about, if it were to be honest. The books it knew of were mostly history or mythology. But besides that, it wasn’t sure why Briar was talking about this. Voice light and casual and not at all talking about what will happen when the main wielder comes back. Still, it tried to pay attention. Tried to pay attention at the same time as it tried to think of ways to keep Briar from being corrected.

--

Kneeling was good, but what if that wasn’t enough? It could bow down instead, forehead against the ground. It could just do that immediately, so the main wielder knew it was being sincere. It needed to listen, that was for sure too. It didn’t know if bleeding would work or not, it could still try that though. What else?

--

“I guess I was a little naïve to think that I could ever be as awesome as them, but I also think little me would be amazed at the fact that any magic is real in the first place.”

--

Not breathing was usually good but the main wielder had told it to breathe earlier. Maybe that was just so it could get to this room? That might be why. Begging for Briar to not be corrected would be harder without breathing but it didn’t really need to breathe anyways so it’d be fine. It should offer itself up to take whatever Briar’s correction was going to be too, just so the main wielder wouldn’t feel like he was being cheated. Begging for someone’s forgiveness and not offering something in exchange never worked. It needed to take accountability for its mistakes, its failures. For allowing itself to be dull. Knowing the new rules or not didn’t matter, it still had to follow those rules. It could apologize again, acknowledge that the apologies don’t matter but apologize anyways. What else could it do? How could it keep Briar from being corrected? What else was there that it knew to do?

--

“Also, though, I think society has a bad way of representing heroes. So often I see people showing off their ideal hero. Glorified and simply unachievable. They've got perfect bodies, perfect, heteroromantic relationships, and perfect morals. They're the definition of society's expectations and that sucks! No one's perfect, and that should be okay. I mean, to me, a hero's just someone who cares and tries their best, ya know? Someone who isn't afraid to admit they're wrong but never gives up on things that they think are important. Never gives up on the people they care about. Sure, they make plenty of mistakes, but so what?! That doesn't mean they're bad or a failure or anything like that, it just means they're human! Like all the rest of us! I mean, what's the point of being perfect anyway? If yer perfect, you've got nowhere to go! Yer just stuck. That's hardly fun. That's just my take though.”

--

It focused back into what Briar was saying as it was mentioned. Or, it thought it had been mentioned. But being a person, or a human for that matter, wasn’t a possibility for it. So Briar had probably simply meant making mistakes didn’t make a person any less human. The idea of not being perfect was also terrible. If it wasn’t perfect then it was as good as useless. Not being perfect meant it wasn’t sharpened enough, wasn’t worth anything. Not being perfect meant it was broken. People could be imperfect, that was fine. But a thing? A thing was made for one reason, one sole purpose for existing and if it wasn’t perfect for that? That wasn’t fine. That was it failing at what it was created to do. Why would anyone keep around something that failed to do what it was created to do? It almost forgot it was thinking about a hypothetical thing. Though, maybe it wasn’t. It couldn’t tell at this point, it supposed that didn’t matter. Not like it would actually ask these questions. It wasn’t allowed to, it hadn’t been given permission by the main wielder.

--

“Oh! This is totally random, but did ya know that otters hold hands when they sleep?! To keep from floating away or something, but isn't that just so cute? I swear I squealed when I found out! Animals are just so awesome! And, another adorable animal fact, rats actually laugh out loud if you tickle 'em! Like, whattt?! I'm not a huge fan of rats, but that is just too cute!”

--

Briar continued talking, and while the change of subject was odd, it didn’t exactly care all that much. It could listen for itself being mentioned but for now, it mostly needed to figure out how to keep Briar from being corrected. As soon as the main wielder came back, it would bow down and bleed and beg and offer itself and apologize and— And whatever else it had to do. Swear that it would be perfect, swear it wouldn’t fight against corrections. Ever. Not once. It wouldn’t run or leave or cry. It wouldn’t scream. It wouldn’t do anything without permission ever again. Just so long as Briar wasn’t corrected.

Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch | Male | 17 | Demisexual | Ambi | Physical - Weapon Knowledge | Mentions; Everyone(Dir/Ind).

--

It needed to listen to Briar too, even if it was trying to figure everything out still. No one liked it when it didn’t listen, so the practice was always good. But just as quickly as the animal facts had started, a new topic had seemed to be started on. Was it supposed to be remembering everything Briar said? Was it going to be asked about everything later? It didn’t move, finding renewed interest in the dumbbell charm as it listened closely to what was said. Listening was an easier task, at the very least. Something it could do without messing up, without breaking, usually…

--

“So, when I was younger, I had this friend named Cam. We were kinda a chaotic duo. I mean, realistically, we could definitely be annoying little shits. But there's one particular night that I remember rather fondly. Me and Cam snuck out, as per usual, and somehow ended up in an old abandoned house. You know, one of those places that no one could have possibly touched in at least a decade. That place was a total hazard, they probably shoulda torn it down a long time ago, but me and Cam thought that an old abandoned place was just about the coolest thing. Ghosts and shit could be in there, or, like, a whole story that no one had ever discovered before! So, as one does, we broke in.”

--

For a split second, it almost flinched at what it first mistook as a mention of itself. Before realizing just as quickly, just in time, that Briar was still talking about the abandoned house. It managed not to flinch, and stared a bit more intensely at the charm still in its hand. Briar seemed to be going slower at the braiding, though it really couldn’t be all that sure. It needed to pay attention to Briar, needed to figure out what else to do to ensure Briar was safe. It could handle corrections, it deserved to be corrected. Briar didn’t. Briar didn’t and the main wielder knew that. Which was why this was harder. Because the main wielder knew that Briar didn’t deserve to be corrected, didn’t need to be corrected, but was still planning to anyway. And apologies didn’t work.

--

The bowing, bleeding, begging, offering, and apologizing might. The promises might. But what else could it do too? What else would help increase the chances? Making sure the main wielder knew that it knew what it was, maybe? But what else? It needed to do as much as possible, show its sincerity as much as possible. It needed to do whatever was necessary to keep Briar from being corrected. It certainly couldn’t hesitate. As soon as the main wielder came in, it needed to do what was necessary…

--

What if all of that wasn’t enough though? What if it still failed? What then? What could it do then? Continue begging? Give up and not doubt the main wielder like it was supposed to? It wasn’t sure, Briar didn’t deserve or need correction though. It at least had to try. If it failed, it should’ve known better and it’d figure out what to do from there.

--

“The whole house was just caked in dust. I'm honestly surprised neither of us got a disease there, actually. I wouldn't have been surprised if we were both sick with some incurable thing after being in there for so long. Anyway, we get inside and start exploring. There wasn't too much 'round, honestly. Just some old furniture and junk that whoever was living there ages ago must've left behind. We were pretty bummed that nothin' interesting was about, but eventually we decided to leave. Well, this is where things get interesting! As we're gettin' ready to leave the property, we hear a little rustling sound from the bushes near the house. We totally freaked, even though, in hindsight, there was no way anything big was making that noise. So, we're nudging each other, both of us trying to convince the other to go take a look. Also stupid, if there was somethin' dangerous, which we thought there was, we shoulda left. But, well, we're dumbass thirteen-year-olds at this point, we don't have much common sense. Whatever the case though, Cam eventually takes the next step and goes over to the bushes. Seconds later, he's totally gushing, picking up a tiny kitten, and claiming that he found his new best friend. To be fair, that cat was adorable. A little orange tabby with big blue eyes. Cam named him Mr. Whiskers, and he took the little animal back home. After that, Mr. Whiskers came basically everywhere with us. Cam trained him to walk on a leash and he became somewhat of a mascot for our little friend group. And to think we found him because we found him because we were stupid enough to break into an abandoned building!”

--

Its hair was let go, and the braid hit its back gently. The main wielder wasn’t back yet. It didn’t know if he’d undo the braid or not. It wasn’t dull enough to hope he wouldn’t. It wasn’t broken enough to even consider doing so. It stared at the charm, trying to take in and remember as much information as possible from everything Briar had said. Just in case. Plus, again, practice at listening was always good.

--

“I guess good can come outta anything.”

--

Out of everything that Briar had said, that confused it the least. Good could come from almost anything. Whether this almost anything was corrections, or learning, or memorizing, or finding a cat in an abandoned house… Apparently… Good could come from all of that. And good would come from it doing what it needed to do as soon as the main wielder came back. Either Briar would be spared or it would figure out something to make the corrections easier for Briar. It had to. It deserved the corrections and Briar didn’t.

Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch | Male | 17 | Demisexual | Ambi | Physical - Weapon Knowledge | Mentions; Everyone(Dir/Ind).

--

Silence stretched for a moment, and then it heard the door open. It tried not to stiffen, and instead straightened itself however much it could. It didn’t know if that was the main wielder or not. That had to be the main wielder though, right? The main wielder had come back from choosing the correction, and it had to keep Briar safe. But it wasn’t sure if that was the main wielder or not. It couldn’t risk looking up, what if it looked into their eyes? It’d never succeed in keeping Briar safe then.

--

“Hello, you two. I'm just checking in, is everything alright? How are we feeling?”

--

That was the main wielder. That was his voice. It stiffened, trying to ignore the way it could feel something lurch in its chest. It needed to keep Briar safe. It needed to move. It needed to bow. It needed to- It needed to beg. It needed to stop staring at the charm and move. Its eyes refused to work, its entirety refused to move, stiff and tense and it needed to keep Briar safe. Useless, broken tool— It had to do something. It had a plan. It needed to follow through. It needed to keep Briar safe. Briar didn’t deserve the correction, hadn’t done anything, and it had. It had and it needed to be corrected, fixed, sharpened.

--

“Um, I'm okay, a little better, I guess.”

--

That was Briar. Answering the main wielder. Why? The question had to have been a trick, right? Or was the main wielder actually wanting an answer? It didn’t know, it hadn’t learned the rules here. It hadn’t been taught anything. Hadn’t been shaped to what was needed yet. It didn’t know what to do. If the main wielder wanted an answer then it needed to answer but if he didn’t then it shouldn’t. Or what if the question was supposed to give it a chance to do what it needed to do? Was he prompting it? Trying to get it to do what it knew it had to do? That it was struggling to do for no reason?

--

There was a hum and footsteps, not many. The main wielder had come closer. Was it supposed to answer? Was it being prompted? It didn’t know, it wasn’t sure, it hasn't learned anything here. It could feel a gaze on it. It needed to do something. What it had planned to do. It needed to keep Briar safe. It needed to—

--

“What about you, Aries? Are you feeling better yet, do you need anything?”

--

Its rising panic stopped almost immediately, straightening at the main wielder’s voice again. There was the prompting. That was obviously the prompting. A seemingly direct question of if it needed something. Which was the same as the main wielder trying to prompt it into doing what it needed to do. And the words were directed at it, which made that even more obvious. Which meant it still had a chance to make sure Briar didn’t get corrected, to do what it needed to do. And with the prompting, moving was much easier, it found. It didn’t have to worry about making anything worse by moving out of command, after all.

--

So, with as little hesitation as it could manage with the dwindling panic, it shifted. As quickly, in as little movement as possible, it put both knees against the ground and allowed its head to find its way down as well. Its hands shifted to where the necklace was on top of its knees, and it was practically offering the hands with both held out towards the main wielder. Not lifted towards him, of course, it didn’t want him to take the fists as a threat, after all. It dug its sharp claws into either of its palms, trying to draw blood without moving too much.

--

And a second after it was right where it needed to be, it took in the deepest breath it could without the breathing being noticeable, and spoke. It didn’t pay attention to the tone too much, just enough to not sound pitiful but still make sure the main wielder knew it was pleading. Begging. Doing what it needed to do. “It apologizes for its failures to do what it needs to do, for its mistakes. It recognizes that whatever correction the main wielder has chosen is necessary.”

--

It pushed its forehead further into the ground, trying to keep its nerve for speaking, for what it was about to say. It had to. It had to do this for Briar. “Please, do not correct Briar. It will take the correction instead, along with its own. Briar doesn’t deserve the correction.” It dug its claws deeper. “It won’t fail again, it won’t give the main wielder, or any wielder or any forger, another reason to correct it. It won’t try to run, or leave, or—” Speaking was getting harder, the deep breath seeming to run out. It allowed itself another one, it had to do this. It began again. “Please, don’t correct Briar. It’ll listen, it’ll take whatever correction has been decided on in the main wielder’s absence. It’ll take Briar’s correction. It won’t fight back or argue or- or anything. It won’t do anything without permission. Please, don’t correct Briar. It’ll be perfect. It won’t fail again. It apologizes for failing before. It understands apologies don’t mean anything but— But it apologizes and it’ll take the correction and Briar’s correction and please do not correct Briar—” It was starting to panic, it had to keep Briar safe, it didn’t know if this would work, it had to keep Briar safe— “Please, Briar didn’t do anything deserving correction. The event wasn’t Briar’s fault. It takes full blame, full responsibility. It broke. It won’t break again. It won’t fail again. Please, don’t correct Briar. Please. It swears, Sir, it swears it won’t- It won’t do anything without permission again. It won’t. It won’t breathe or eat or drink or sleep or— Or— Or anything— Please, don’t correct Briar.”

--

Its claws were deeply embedded into its palms by now, it could tell. And the floor was beginning to hurt its forehead with how harshly it was pushing its head into the ground. It didn’t dare move, it didn’t dare breathe, it didn’t dare do anything but wait. It had to give the main wielder time to respond, and it had to find out whether it needed to continue or not. It would. Whatever it needed to do to keep Briar safe, it would. It had to. It couldn’t— It couldn’t have someone else getting corrected because of its own faults.

Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch | Male | 17 | Demisexual | Ambi | Physical - Weapon Knowledge | Mentions; Everyone(Dir/Ind).

--

Silence dictated the air after it had spoken, and it refrained from tensing. From doing anything. It had— It had just sworn it wouldn’t do anything without permission. It couldn’t fail already. This was— This was way too important. But neither of them had spoken yet. Not the main wielder, not Briar. And maybe that last one was good, it didn’t want to risk Briar speaking and the main wielder deciding not to listen to it. But— But the main wielder hadn’t spoken either. Had it not done enough? Did it need to keep going? Be more specific with its apologies? It didn’t want to continue if it hadn’t been told it could. It didn’t want to fail again already. If it did then Briar was at risk, it couldn’t have Briar at risk. It could handle the corrections, it deserved the corrections. Briar didn’t.

--

A choked sob somewhere behind it. Briar. Briar was crying. It didn’t dare move. It couldn’t. It needed to stay put, it couldn’t fail again, it couldn’t. Not already. Not with Briar on the line. Nausea still grew in its stomach at allowing Briar to cry without comfort. But it couldn’t risk Briar getting hurt. It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. It stayed still, didn’t dare to breathe, and waited.

--

It didn’t have to wait much longer, hearing footsteps from in front of it and then a hand was on its left shoulder. It didn’t dare move. It forced itself to not tense further, forced itself to keep everything the same, forced the sting behind its eyes to stay in place without allowing the sting any further movement. It hadn’t been given permission for anything. It could take the correction like this. No breathing, no movement, no sounds. It could. It had to. Please, just tell it that Briar wasn’t going to be correct.

--

“Aries, I need you to sit up and uncurl your hands for me.”

--

Immediately, it moved to a simple kneel, bringing its head off the ground and up, making sure no eye contact was made. At the same time, it uncurled the claws from its hands, ignoring the sting that came from the damage. It could listen. It would listen. It had to. It stared at the charm sitting on its lap again, and ignored its bloodstained hands and claws. It would listen. It would.

--

“Look at me, no one is going to be corrected.”

--

As it was told to look at the main wielder, it forced its eyes up. It didn’t make eye contact, it knew better than to do that, but it did look at him. And then the second part of the words hit it and it had to force itself not to react. It hadn’t been given permission. But— It shoved any thoughts away for the moment. It had to, the main wielder was still speaking. It needed to listen, to make sure it heard everything the main wielder said.

--

“Not now, not ever. Not here. Briar will not be hurt. You will not be hurt. Neither of you will be corrected. Please do not harm yourself either. You need to breathe, eat, and drink.”

--

It forced itself not to sigh in relief as it was told Briar wouldn’t be hurt. It forced itself not to tense as it was told that it wouldn’t be hurt either. It didn’t know what reaction it would’ve given as it was told neither Briar nor itself would be corrected, so it tried to stop anything. It filed away the information that blood didn’t work here as it was told not to harm itself. And it forced itself to breathe, just barely, just enough to ebb away the black spots that had been forming in its vision as it was told that it needed to.

--

It barely heard the words throughout the speaking, as it tried to understand what it had been told. Briar wouldn’t be hurt or corrected, that was good. It also wasn’t going to be hurt or corrected… It didn’t… It had to be. It had broken, it had gone dull to what these new wielders would need it for. It had to be corrected. It wouldn’t be fixed if it wasn’t corrected. It would only continue to fail, to break, to get even more dull. It had to be corrected, had to be sharpened. If it wasn’t— If it wasn’t then it would only become irreparable eventually and these new wielders would have to get rid of it because it’d be worthless like that, absolutely useless and— And why would these new wielders want that?

--

Vaguely, it was aware that the main wielder was still talking. That it should listen. Everything was blurry though, like its eyes were out of focus. It needed to listen, it couldn’t. It needed to but it couldn’t. Too busy trying to make sense of what it had been told. It at least knew it wasn’t crying, that definitely would’ve ended the apparent kindness.

--

“Please just call me Horatio. My job is to protect you, Aries. To make sure you feel safe. I am sorry that I have already failed in that regard. You and Briar are both safe here. You will not be corrected.”

--

Unless these weren’t new wielders and it had been wrong. But then— That would mean it had left the arena. Or had allowed itself to be taken. It wouldn’t have. It wouldn’t have allowed that! It wouldn’t have left! Honest. It swears— It wouldn’t have. It wouldn’t have. But would the arena sell it to a main wielder that wasn’t going to correct it? That wasn’t going to keep it sharp? But it wouldn’t have left. It knew better, please, it knew better— It did, please, it wouldn’t have— It wouldn’t have left— It wouldn’t allow itself to be taken—

--

It took in a breath that was probably too deep, too obvious. Panic clung to it as it tried to figure out something else that could cause the main wielder to not correct it. It wouldn’t have— There had to be another reason. Something it had missed. Maybe the new main wielder had just forgotten? Maybe the new main wielder just needed to be reminded that it wasn’t a person, that it needed to be corrected, that it wouldn’t be what these new wielders and forgers wanted if it wasn’t corrected— It needed to be corrected. It had to be. The main wielder would be upset that it's challenging him. It had been given an answer, but— But it had to be corrected. It had to be. It deserved to be.

--

So it forced past the panic clouding its vision, and slammed its head against the ground in how fast it went to bow. It had been told to sit up but what if that was due to the main wielder forgetting? What if all of the information it had thought it had was wrong because of the main wielder forgetting? Plus, it needed the grace that the bow would give it for challenging the main wielder.

--

It forced itself to speak again, forced itself to ignore the panic that clung to it, and forced itself not to cry and beg as it spoke. “Sir, it— It won’t be fixed if it isn’t corrected. It broke, it needs to be corrected so it doesn’t break again. It isn’t— Forgiveness only works with people. It isn’t a person, so— So it has to be corrected in order to be fixed.”

--

It kept where it was, it had to be corrected. It deserved to be corrected. Especially now, after challenging the main wielder, but— It wouldn’t have left. It wouldn’t have. This was just the main wielder forgetting. That had to be what this was.

Gwyar ‘Aries’ Ariethous Fraoch | Male | 17 | Demisexual | Ambi | Physical - Weapon Knowledge | Mentions; Everyone(Dir/Ind).

--

It didn’t move, waiting and trying not to tense as silence stretched on around it. Even if the main wielder had forgotten, and he had there was no other reason for— For all of that. Still, it was challenging the main wielder. And that was enough to provoke even the most forgiving wielders back at the arena. But if it hadn’t told him— The main wielder would remember eventually no matter what, and if it hadn’t reminded him… It wasn’t going to pretend. It wasn’t. It could listen, it would listen.

--

It stayed still, tried to do nothing except light, unnoticeable breathing. It wasn’t sure if it should be breathing. It wasn’t sure how much the main wielder had said would stay true after he remembered. How was it supposed to know? It hadn’t been told anything, hadn’t been given any rules while the main wielder still knew what it was. It hadn’t— It hadn’t learned how this place worked. How was it supposed to know? It should know, still, even if it hadn’t been told. It should be sharp enough to simply know. It shouldn’t have to be told. If it weren’t so dull then it would’ve known. It wouldn’t have broken if it wasn’t so dull. Useless— It wouldn’t be worth anything to the main wielder unsharpened, dull, uncorrected.

--

There was the sound of movement, and it tried not to brace itself for whatever the main wielder decided necessary. Whether that be for before or for its challenging. But the noise was from behind it and that was where Briar was, not the main wielder, which meant Briar was moving and— And that was bad. Briar shouldn’t be moving. It couldn’t— It couldn’t lose its chance to protect Briar, if the challenge hadn’t already done so. It couldn’t risk moving, it didn’t have permission, it couldn’t— It couldn’t fail again already— Its vision of the ground was blurry, and it fought to not breathe too quickly or, more importantly, too noticeably. It couldn’t— It wasn’t even sure if it should be breathing right now to begin with, it couldn’t panic too— Still, the sting behind its eyes was getting worse without it being given permission by the main wielder and it was having to focus too much to not tense, to not shrink, its throat burned too, tight and tensed in an attempt to not do anything without permission.

--

There was no sound of Briar getting in trouble though. And it heard more shifting, so it knew that the lack of reprimanding or disciplining wasn’t just its ears refusing to listen to what was going on. It didn't think too much about that though, not when there were more pressing matters, more ongoing matters to pay attention to. Like how the sensitive, scarred skin of its back could feel as something came closer to it, even through what it was wearing. It forced itself not to tense, to not brace and to not move. It didn’t have permission. It wasn’t going to fail already, it wasn’t— Its braided hair was lightly grabbed. It still had to force itself not to react, even with the gentle hold and motion that obviously belonged to Briar.

--

Silence, the main wielder still hadn’t spoken. Was he still taking in the words? Digging in his memory to double check if it was right? How long did it have before the main wielder realized it was telling the truth, before the main wielder remembered what it was? It didn’t know, it refused to move though. Refused to speak up again, refused to do anything else that would do nothing but only get it into even more trouble.

--

“Eu... Eu estou a-aqui... sempre.”

--

The words were sudden, and obviously Briar’s voice. It barely managed to refrain from reacting at all. The sole fact that it hadn’t been given permission to do anything applicable except breathe by the main wielder repeating in its head the whole time being the only reason it didn’t tense at the sudden words.

--

It didn’t know what the words would be if translated to english, it wasn’t sure if it was supposed to. Briar had said the words, not the main wielder. It stayed still, refused to react, refused to allow itself to tense or panic or anything else. It hadn’t been given permission to do anything by the main wielder. It wasn’t sure if it should even be breathing or if that had only been said because the main wielder had forgotten. It wasn’t sure how long it had before the main wielder remembered and actually corrected it.

--

Silence stretched regardless and it didn’t move, only allowing itself the same shallow, barely noticeable breathing it had been doing so far. It couldn’t risk anything here. It couldn’t. Especially not when that risked Briar too. If that only risked itself, maybe it could risk a prompting to try and get the main wielder to respond. But Briar was at risk, and it couldn’t risk them. It couldn’t. Risking people was a line it would never cross, especially one that was being nice to it, like Briar was.