The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display
a morbid painting on display
For all the happiness that has been threading into the tapestry of her life these days, absence from Halo has not left her unaffected. Simply keeping stride with Deimos through unfamiliar land in an echo of time and time and time before is enough to make her heart warm and full in a way she doesn't try to hide from him. Given how they both know she's been away, she doubts he'll tease her overmuch for her sentimentality - though she can sense the branch of peace in the words he chooses, the assumptions she knows he has rightly made. He is a brilliant man, her brother. It would be foolish to think he would not know exactly what she was doing with her days.
"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world." An equally multifaceted sentiment, a promise of I will always be here, even if distance takes me away. But that is a conversation she is reluctant to have - one she'd rather put off forever, frankly. The sinking sun lights up her skin, already a tone more gold than before with her time outside of Halo. Not nearly as insufferably strong as it normally is, which she suspects Deimos planned.
Deimos' small smile has her own creeping over her lips slow and sure, almost bashful. "Better than I've been in a long time," she admits. "Things are changing, and I'm not sure how much or how fast. It's intimidating, but I like to think I've always been adaptable." Even as she grows older, Hotaru likes to envision herself as a resilient woman, a flower capable of growing even through cracks in concrete. Turning her smile toward him with a slightly sly edge, she raises an eyebrow. "You seem happy too. How is the wedding planning going?" She'd received colors and fabrics for the happy couple, so she hasn't been surprised by the radio silence since.
"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world." An equally multifaceted sentiment, a promise of I will always be here, even if distance takes me away. But that is a conversation she is reluctant to have - one she'd rather put off forever, frankly. The sinking sun lights up her skin, already a tone more gold than before with her time outside of Halo. Not nearly as insufferably strong as it normally is, which she suspects Deimos planned.
Deimos' small smile has her own creeping over her lips slow and sure, almost bashful. "Better than I've been in a long time," she admits. "Things are changing, and I'm not sure how much or how fast. It's intimidating, but I like to think I've always been adaptable." Even as she grows older, Hotaru likes to envision herself as a resilient woman, a flower capable of growing even through cracks in concrete. Turning her smile toward him with a slightly sly edge, she raises an eyebrow. "You seem happy too. How is the wedding planning going?" She'd received colors and fabrics for the happy couple, so she hasn't been surprised by the radio silence since.
This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides
Buried at each others sides
