Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

[attr="class","landfill-scroll"]When finally he was granted relief from the pressure upon his back, he drew a ragged breath and coughed, his lungs aching from lack of oxygen and his ribs sore from being pushed against the hard ground. For a moment, Crow was too glad to have been free to care for the anger he felt - and then the soldier spoke again, her tone authoritative and demanding. Immediately his defiance came rushing back, features twisting with displeasure, and he narrowed his eyes to slits.

For a couple of seconds, he genuinely did consider remaining where he was, if only to spite her.

Eventually, however, he decided against it. He'd endured enough humiliation for one day, though of course he'd no intentions of admitting that she had successfully humbled him, if only for the moment. Grinding his teeth, he rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the ground, though his aching muscles cried out in protest of the motion.

As desperately as he might have wanted to, he didn't consider attacking her again, and not because he feared another loss; it wouldn't count for anything if he attacked her when she wasn't expecting it. He comforted himself with the thought that he'd have another chance to win against her at a later time - not to mention that he'd been lucky enough to not have an audience there to witness his pathetic attempt.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled himself to his feet, his head ducked and gaze turned away in spite of her demand - whether out of embarrassment, defiance, or a mix of both, one couldn't be certain. His brow furrowed, lips pressing to a thin line. Crow wanted to defend himself, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Even an insult would have felt empty. Perhaps it would have been best to just leave, but he doubted that would end well. The Octoling had already proven how unpredictable she could be.

So, rather than speak, he remained precisely where he was, his face turned away, and waited in silent expectation for her to say whatever it was she wanted to.

[attr="class","landfill-scroll"]Entirely unaware of her intentions, Crow ceased to move from his spot, his attention fixed stubbornly elsewhere. That is, until she took hold of his chin and turned his head to face her, the gesture so sudden he scarcely had time to protest or pull away.

His lips had parted to do just that, however, when he glimpsed her face, this time without the mask she'd worn a few moments ago. In spite of himself, he felt his anger die down, shock taking its place instead, and found he could do little more than stare, dismay showing plainly in his gaze. It was difficult to know what he should focus on first; he'd expected that the blindness and scarring of one of her eyes would be the worst of it, but the rest of her face appeared to have suffered terribly, as well.

Beneath the scarring, Crow could have almost made out someone who didn't look very different from him at all. It had been easy to dismiss her as being some nameless soldier when she wore the mask, particularly with her cold disposition, but now, speaking to him, she seemed almost vulnerable. Even with the past injuries strewn about her skin, however, there was something about her face he felt nearly disgusted with himself for recognizing; namely, beauty.

He didn't realize he'd been staring until she spoke, and the words, though spoken in a calm and collected manner, resonated harshly within him, almost as though he'd been stricken. Swallowing thickly, Crow allowed her to speak, for once feeling no need to interrupt, and tried in vain to ignore the guilt he felt stirring in his chest in response. When she let go of his chin, it was all he could do not to look away again, but he managed to keep his gaze upon her face.

This time, he didn't immediately reply in an effort to fight her words. Crow couldn't deny he'd been granted understanding - about why she'd been acting the way she was, and why she'd said the things she did. In spite of it, however, he neglected to outright accept her words. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to regather his composure, and again he appeared almost reproachful, though he bit back the worst of what he wanted to say for her sake.

Eventually, he merely nodded, his brow furrowing and expression still rather guarded.  Another silence followed, and then he spoke. "I think... I can begin to understand it, yes." His voice was cautious, perhaps even housing a pointed air. "You have your reasons for believing what you do, and I have mine." He decided against admitting that her experience had added validated to his hatred of Inklings; after all, what she was saying now, he'd no quarrels with. Then, finally, Crow continued in a measured voice, still somewhat strained, "Let's not make it any more complicated than it needs to be." 

[attr="class","landfill-scroll"]Though still baffled by her abrupt change in demeanor, Crow didn't bother questioning it. He doubted he'd be capable of understanding the motive behind her actions if he tried. His aching muscles insisted it wasn't important enough to bother investigating; rest was all that appealed to him now, and for once he'd no intentions of resisting its call for the sake of going back to the Surface to continue his search again.

Likewise, he'd no idea why she bothered to thank him, and he didn't care to find out. They'd likely never see one another again, after all. When she introduced herself, however, he blinked, looking somewhat surprised. Artemis? It felt odd to connect a name to the face. Perhaps a part of him had been expecting something more along the lines of 'Hellspawn'.

Unsure of what to say, it wasn't until she mentioned with an air of amusement that he'd likely remember her in a fond manner that he felt the urge to scoff. Crow little more than nodded at her, the gesture rather awkward, and watched her depart for a few moments. Fat chance he'd remember her fondly.

Relieved to be done, his lungs permitted a sigh and he rubbed his arm, soreness resonating from the limb. Without turning to look back, he set back on his way home, his posture significantly more slack than it had been before they'd encountered one another. Sleeping was going to feel amazing.