[The feed clicks on to a bloody scene. Inside the wide space of a wide warehouse, with walls and floor all covered in glittery frost, Koumei kneels among a puddle of blood. A number of others are standing behind him, though they're hard to make out at this angle. Next to him on the floor is the crumpled, immobile body of Amika, limp in a way living
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Fearless, he takes a step toward the Bloodspeaker.]
Rise, Hawke. It's ended. Justice is done.
[Koumei is stunningly good at a stunning amount of things; but comforting has never been one of them.]
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Justice?
-=A girl is dead. A man is dead. People are hurt, and that's considered justice?=-
This is no justice. -=No, no justice at all. This was barbarism.=-
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No, I do suppose not. It is battle, and battle is never kind.
[His voice softens a little.]
We do not always know, in the heat of it, how hard and harsh a blow might land.
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