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crash-landing backward - Hotaru - 02-22-2026
The entire process of gathering her few belongings with Noah's help and getting to Torchline is a vague blur. Shame, at least, is an easier emotion to contend with than the hurt that festers endlessly, and she chews on it like a starving street dog with a stolen bone. She is not all that much older than her children given the world they live in, but it matters little when faced with the reality of moving in with them as opposed to the other way around. And over a breakup? Frey forgive her.
Oh, but if only she could see all of this in such a simple way; a breakup, a broken heart, something to suffer through but nevertheless find familiar in the grand scheme of things.
None of this is familiar.
The newly named Andraste curls around her shoulders - already large enough even in youth to require coiling her tail around Ru's bicep to remain steady - and stares at every passerby with narrow, evaluating eyes. Ru moves through them with Noah at her side, head held high and expression unrelentingly placid. Performance is both distraction and instinct, protection and pastime.
When she gets to Flora's door she pauses, turning to kiss Noah's cheek and squeeze him tight where she murmurs her thanks and necessary reassurances before they part. Hotaru watches him depart, and remains there for many long moments even after he has vanished from view. Then she turns - half-shifted ears detecting Flora's faint but familiar heartbeat within - and steels herself before twisting the handle and stepping inside, closing the door behind her.
[say]"It's just me, petal,"[/say] she announces, voice still slightly hoarse and duller than it's been in years. Still, she musters a smile from somewhere deeper than humans should be able to reach, that place all mothers can draw from, and drops her bag to reach for her daughter. [say]"Come here, sweetheart."[/say] Let me hold you and remember there's other things to live for. She can't bear to phrase it as a question, terrified her daughter will reject her just as Sunjata had and selfishly attempting to prevent that by allowing no alternative.
RE: crash-landing backward - Flora - 02-24-2026
The house warns her before the handle turns, not with noise but with a subtle rearranging of the air that moves through Wildering House like a breath drawn and held, the unseen spirits skimming along coral stone and stained glass as though brushing fingertips across the ribs of something living. One of them nudges open the greenhouse door and lets it settle again with a soft click, another sends a flicker of colour spilling down from the skylight in a wash of fractured light across the marble floors, and Flora feels the shift the way she might feel a change in tide beneath her feet. It isn’t the sharp, suspicious bristle they reserve for strangers, nor the mischievous tug they use when someone forgets their manners; instead there is a quiet yielding, a hush threaded through the hallways that feels almost reverent, and her pulse catches before her mind quite names why.
Her mother.
She does not pause to gather composure or summon any version of herself that resembles a queen; she moves, descending the staircase in a sweep of silk and bare feet, the marble cool beneath her soles as the spirits part for her, doors easing open just before she reaches them as though the house itself understands that this is not a moment for theatrics. The ocean beyond the balconies flashes blue and white, terracotta roofs glowing under the Longheat sun, but all of it narrows into a single line of motion toward the front entrance as the latch shifts and the door begins to open. She sees the dragon first, coiled and watchful, then the familiar line of shoulders and the fall of golden hair that catches the light in a way that has always seemed unfairly luminous, and beneath the subtle changes—the thinner edges, the wear at the corners—there is the same impossible combination of softness and steel that shaped Flora’s childhood and carved its way into her bones.
She reaches her at the threshold, closing the distance with no hesitation, and when Hotaru’s voice shapes the word petal Flora is already there, arms winding tight around her mother’s waist with a force that presses gold and silk and skin together as though contact alone might secure her in place. Her face buries against the slope of shoulder and neck, breathing in jasmine and salt and something warmer beneath it, something that feels like sun-warmed silk wrapped around a blade, and the scent hits her so suddenly and so completely that the breath she releases trembles on its way out. [say]"Mom,"[/say] she exhales into golden hair, the word dissolving there as her fingers tangle and clutch.
RE: crash-landing backward - Hotaru - 02-24-2026
This house - so unfamiliar, a legacy worth exploring but one she had been cut short from seeing - holds Flora's heart and soul in every tile and curved arch. She can feel her daughter in the shade of the paint on the wall and the shape of the tiles masterfully laid before the entry. It heals the ache just a little to stand beneath the sharp shadow cast by the upper floors, because it's almost as if Flora is already here with her.
The handle is still sun-warm beneath her palm despite the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. Its heat seeps into her skin, casting off some of the chill that has crept far deeper than skin. There's no need for bravery in turning the handle, fueled instead by a desperate desire to be reunited with Flora as soon as atoms and time will allow.
Andraste's claws prick at her skin in startled displacement when Flora careens forth the moment the door opens, gracelessly gliding from the Valkyrie's shoulders to allow mother and daughter to meet. Flora hits Hotaru like a wave against a cliffside, all seafoam and surging strength - but Ru is her mother, built in all ways to catch her, to withstand all of her in every facet and form, and the Valkyrie does not so much as step backward at the impact.
She catches her daughter in her arms and holds.
Their faces press into warm skin wherever they can reach, one of Ru's hands supporting Flora's back while the other cradles her daughter's precious golden head with splayed, protective fingers. Breathing feels harder than it has since she opened her eyes on the cliffside, but every inhale brings notes of Flora's perfume and the omnipresent lingering of salt and seawater. Proof of life that she can't bear to lose - so breathe she must. Even when the lurch of her lungs betrays the burn of her eyes which clench tight so that her tears won't stain her child's perfect skin.
[say]"Darling,"[/say] painfully stumbles out of her lips, which begin to frantically press kisses wherever she can reach Flora's sun-gold skin. [say]"I'm sorry. My petal, I'm so, so sorry."[/say] Hotaru wants to separate if only to account for every change she may have missed, but to part so soon would surely kill her a second time. [say]"I never meant to leave you, sweetheart."[/say] Not so soon after getting Enzo back. Gods, her strong, beautiful girl. That she has withstood this is Hotaru's greatest pride - and her greatest shame, to have ever caused it.
RE: crash-landing backward - Flora - 03-01-2026
Hotaru’s apologies land against her skin like rain against sun-warmed stone, and Flora feels them but cannot quite separate them from the overwhelming flood of relief that has already swept through her veins and drowned everything else. Tears sting her eyes without permission, blurring gold into molten light, but she hardly registers them beyond the way they make the world shimmer; what she feels instead is the fierce, undeniable solidity of arms around her, hands splayed against her back and cradling her head as though she is still small enough to lift from a cradle. It is one thing to read ink pressed into parchment that insists someone is alive, but it is another entirely to feel breath warm against her temple, to feel lips pressing frantic kisses into her skin, to be held in return with that familiar, immovable strength that has always felt like standing behind a fortress wall and knowing it will not fall.
Flora shakes her head against the Valkyrie's shoulder, curls brushing gold as though to physically dislodge the apology from the air between them, and finally pulls back just enough to see her face, hands sliding to either side of Hotaru’s waist as if letting go entirely might risk something unthinkable. The sight of her, truly her, not imagined or remembered but flushed and breathing and close enough to touch, wrenches a breath from Flora that escapes as a laugh and threatens to break apart into something far less composed; her aqua eyes sweep over familiar features as though cataloguing proof, as though committing each line to memory in case the world ever tries to take it again. [say]"It wasn’t your fault,"[/say] she says, breathless and earnest, the words tumbling over each other in their haste to exist, because she will not let guilt anchor itself here when relief is finally allowed to bloom. [say]"You don’t have to apologize for dying, that’s not how this works,"[/SAY] she adds with a helpless, self-deprecating laugh that wobbles at the edges, her thumb brushing unconsciously against the fabric at her mother’s waist.
She draws in a shaky breath and tries to gather herself, tries to smooth the tremor from her voice even as it clings stubbornly to the edges. [say]"I honestly should have guessed,"[/say] she continues, a small huff of disbelief escaping her as she tips her head slightly, curls slipping loose from whatever semblance of order they once had. [say]"When Frey told me you were fine but I couldn’t channel you, that should have told me something, but I just—"[/say] she exhales through her nose, shaking her head at herself, the motion half rueful and half overwhelmed. [say]"I got myself into such a panic, and Sunjata and Deimos didn’t know either, and I kept thinking that if no one could reach you then that meant something was wrong because Remi said you weren't in Mort's realm, and I couldn’t—"[/say] Her voice thins for a heartbeat, not from fragility but from the sheer force of everything she had imagined in those hours, and she presses her lips together briefly before continuing, more softly but no less firmly. [say]"I couldn’t stand not knowing."[/say]
RE: crash-landing backward - Hotaru - 03-02-2026
The immediacy of Flora’s rejection of her apologies makes Hotaru’s stomach twist itself into painful knots of surprise, sharp relief, and bitterness that makes her molars ache with vein-deep rottenness that surprises her the same way biting into a cold treat with a cavity might. It makes parting easier in her distraction. She is immortal - why can she not spend it holding her baby forever? Why must her world widen any further or include anyone else, if she has the power to keep it at bay with a single hand?
It’s a dark thought reminiscent of houseboats and sickness in her veins. Flora’s steadying hands at her waist take her away from that vast, empty ocean and keep her feet rooted in the present. Sunlit and alive. Gods, alive. Has she even processed that she hadn’t been?
[say]“You’re the first to think that, so the jury is still out,”[/say] she jokes weakly, that bitterness aching in her teeth as they form a smile. While Flora works to gather herself, Hotaru silently smooths the edges, not drawing attention to it. A practiced thief sneaking your wallet out of your pocket as the compliment your coat and touch your wrist. Instead her hand cups Flora’s cheek and then tucks errant hair back behind her ear, then disguises a stroke of her head into the taming of flyaways. There is no shame in Flora’s distress, but if she wants to control it then Hotaru will pick up the reins and place them back into her palm.
[say]“Frey isn’t known for being straightforward,”[/say] she acknowledges dryly. [say]“Sunjata said he asked, that he looked, but if the question isn’t direct well…Frey operates on what you desire, not explanations.”[/say] It’s why she had been so confused by Sunjata’s whip-sharp insulted reaction when she’d asked, suddenly doubtful of her herald, if he’d asked the same. Shouldn’t another demigod have known? Though, what does she know? She couldn’t have anticipated Sunjata’s reaction, or Frey’s decisions. She’s scarcely had time to breathe since waking up in that pod.
Hotaru’s expression shutters and her hands fall to Flora’s waist until they are holding each other in identical poses, warped mirrors of gold and grief. [say]“He broke off the engagement,”[/say] she shares abruptly, staring at one of Flora’s faint freckles across her sunkissed collarbone. [say]“His heart that he gave me was withered when he asked for it back. And he told me to do what I wanted with the house. Didn’t respond to whether I could write him, or try to fix it…”[/say] Hotaru swallows hard, and as Flora’s tears slow her own bite with renewed vigor at her lash line. She bites into her lower lip. How can she tell her daughter this without reversing their roles inappropriately? But she has only Noah and Deimos to lean on otherwise, and they just wouldn’t understand. And Ronin would never let her near Remi again, not for comfort. This exact scenario had led to the twins in the first place long ago.
Hotaru tastes blood and licks it away from her lip where she has bitten too deep, eyes framed by deep bruises as she lifts them to Flora’s. Wanting so badly to break but held together by guilty restraint. [say]“I came to you regardless, don’t mistake that darling. But…I’m hoping you’ll accept me as a new citizen, too.”[/say] She has nowhere else to go. At least here, she will be close to her children while she tries to pick up the pieces yet again.
RE: crash-landing backward - Flora - 03-04-2026
Flora’s breath catches so sharply that the sound escapes her before she can shape it into anything graceful, a soft gasp pulled straight from her lungs as her mother’s words land in pieces that refuse to assemble themselves into something sensible. Confusion floods her expression almost immediately, aqua eyes lifting to search Hotaru’s bi-coloured gaze as though the answer might be written there somewhere between gold and shadow, because what she has just heard cannot possibly be correct. Her hands tighten instinctively where they rest at her mother’s waist, not possessive but anchoring, as though she is trying to steady both of them against a story that keeps threatening to tip sideways. [say]"What—?"[/say] The word stumbles out before she can gather it into something more coherent, and she blinks rapidly as her mind attempts to catch up with what her ears have apparently understood. [say]"That’s ridiculous,"[/say] she says a moment later, the protest tumbling forward with breathless disbelief, the faint tremor still clinging to the edges of her voice even as she tries to marshal it into something firmer. [say]"It’s not like it was your fault, you didn’t—"[/say] she falters briefly, shaking her head as though the motion alone might rearrange the logic into something more reasonable, [say]"you can’t be mad at someone for dying."[/say]
The sentence leaves her mouth before she quite realizes how absurd it sounds, and for a heartbeat she simply stares at her mother in silence as the implication settles heavily between them, because apparently that is exactly what has happened. The thought sits uneasily in her chest, sharp and unwelcome, but Hotaru continues and the thread of Flora’s attention follows instinctively, catching on the mention of Frey and Sunjata’s attempts to look for her. She frowns faintly, the expression more puzzled than defensive, and a slight blankness passes across her features as she tries to reconstruct the frantic sequence of her own decisions. [say]"When he told me you were missing,"[/say] she says slowly, the words emerging in careful order as though she is laying them down to inspect them, [say]"I channeled Frey right then and there and asked them about you, and later that evening I asked Remi if he knew if you were dead."[/say] She draws in a small breath as the memory returns with surprising clarity, fingers tightening almost unconsciously at Hotaru’s waist. [say]"I knew Sunjata had asked Deimos about you, but..."[/say] she trails off with a quiet, helpless shrug of one shoulder, the explanation offered without accusation yet unable to hide the bewilderment lingering behind it. Surely going to Frey was the most logical place to start? And as Frey's demigod, it wasn't as though Sunjata was limited to a quick 6-second chat the way she'd been, with Remi at least providing information enough to know that Hotaru wasn't (dead)dead.
When Hotaru’s voice shifts again and the words engagement and broke it off finally reach Flora’s ears in their full shape, the effect is immediate and unmistakable; her eyes widen dramatically, the earlier confusion giving way to a raw, unguarded shock that draws a fragile, breathless little sound from her throat before she can stop it. [say]"What?"[/say] The word slips out in a thin murmur, fractured by disbelief and a sharp ache of sympathy that pulls her brows together. She stares at her mother as though the answer might rewrite itself if she simply looks long enough, because she cannot reconcile the idea that someone could greet a returned life with rejection rather than relief. Surely he should have been overjoyed, she thinks dimly, surely anyone would have been when the person they loved walked back from the impossible, but the evidence of her mother’s expression makes the argument feel flimsy before it can even take shape.
The moment shifts again as Hotaru speaks of Torchline, of citizenship and beginnings that carry the quiet weight of nowhere else to go, and the heaviness pressing against Flora’s chest loosens just enough for a small laugh to escape her. The sound is soft and a little incredulous, her head shaking gently as if the idea itself is charmingly unnecessary. [say]"Of course,"[/say] she replies without hesitation, warmth threading immediately through her voice as her hands slide reassuringly against her mother’s sides. [say]"You can stay here as long as you want, Wildering House has more rooms than I know what to do with."[/say] Her smile deepens slightly despite the lingering sting in her eyes, the expression turning tender as she tilts her head, curls catching the late-afternoon light filtering through the open doorway. [say]"For forever if you want. It's been way too long since we were all in the same place."[/say]
RE: crash-landing backward - Hotaru - 03-10-2026
Graceless it might be, but it ensures every twitch of an expression as it's formed, or the tone of her voice, even the cadence of her breathing - it's all sincere. Enough that it cleaves Hotaru's chest open like rotten wood that leaves splinters but brings light in where there had previously been none. With it comes air that fills her lungs with a sharp swiftness that stutters audibly on her tongue. There are fewer years between them than most mothers and daughters, but it still feels shameful to find absolution in Flora's immediate disbelief. Permission and understanding that she hadn't expected to need until she'd come home to Sunjata and found them absent.
Her smile drops, the weak attempt shattered by Flora's earnest defense. [say]"It's not the first time I've disappeared on him. Or others he's loved. I suppose it was one time too many, regardless of reason."[/say] But does that make it just? Fair? Whispers doubtfully in her mind and her lips twist further downward as it settles somewhere in the back of her head.
The slow recollection of the timeline of events makes Hotaru's chest tighten slowly, like a tourniquet being twisted in an agonizing life-saving effort. Only this news doesn't feel like anything half as helpful as that. Instinct shutters her expression until only a placid stillness remains, hiding the throbbing pain that strengthens in her chest until she blinks and remembers that the woman in her arms is her daughter. There's nothing to fear in showing her hurt here. [say]"I see. As he put it, it was a combined effort of asking, and 'Frey said I was fine'."[/say] Convenient that the 'we' he'd claimed was truly just her daughter taking the initiative, right? Not like a longer conversation could have unearthed greater information. Bitterness tightens faint creases into the corners of her eyes, teeth pressing together until a faint ache builds in her jaw. She keeps telling herself she has no right to be angry, to accuse him of falling short when she started all this by dying, but she is angry. She's angry and she's hurt and she knows letting herself feel it will only lead to devastation - so she simply can't.
It's a lot to share at once, which is unfair of her and she knows it, but every second that passes without being able to talk about all of this feels like holding poison in her lungs. Equally, she feels beholden to some unspoken expectation of motherhood that forbids her from exactly that, so the swift onset of discussing citizenship is a kneejerk attempt to course-correct. Flora's easy acceptance folds Hotaru like a house of cards, hands coming to wrap around Flora's elbows where the Doubletake holds onto her waist.
[say]"Thank you. I just...well, I didn't have anywhere else to go. Not that I could think of anywhere but here with you."[/say] Halo, certainly, but as she'd told Noah there were simply too many ghosts there. Too many heartbreaks which she had already weathered in the snow and ice. To do so again would break her.
[say]"It's a bit fucked up, isn't it?"[/say] It comes out without her permission, strangled and sudden - and then, equally as sudden, she's crying. Horror drips cold down her nape even as her hands tighten, shaking, around Flora's arms. They're small but persistent tears, dripping off her lashes to fall through the space between their entangled arms without touching her cheeks. Hotaru swiftly removes a hand to slap it over her eyes, shoulders trembling around a frantic inhale as she tries to regain control. [say]"I'm - I'm sorry, sweetheart, I shouldn't be talking about this. I know what he means to you -"[/say] her voice snaps in half alongside what remains of her heart and a sob ekes out, eyes clenching tight behind her palm as she sways nearer to Flora.
He'd been like another father to Flora. And because of Hotaru's stupid mistake she has ruined that for her daughter too. Again. For once, her selfish, bitter heart hopes that Flora and Sunjata's closeness will eclipse any loyalty Flora has for Hotaru, if only to ensure that only the Valkyrie suffers these changes.
RE: crash-landing backward - Flora - 03-17-2026
Flora’s breath comes faster now, not quite panic but something restless and searching that can’t find a place to settle, her head already shaking before the words have fully formed as though she might physically refuse the shape of what she’s hearing. [say]"Okay, but..."[/say] she starts, the protest soft and disbelieving, trailing off as her gaze flickers over her mother’s face again, trying to reconcile reason with something that feels fundamentally wrong. Her fingers tighten where they rest on Hotaru’s arms, grounding herself in the warmth and reality of her even as her thoughts slip sideways. [say]"That doesn’t—"[/say] she exhales sharply through her nose, the sentence collapsing under its own weight as she searches for something more precise, more defensible than the tangle in her chest. [say]"If Kai disappeared, there isn’t a number of times he could reach that would make me stop waiting for him,"[/say] she manages finally, voice quiet but edged with a certainty that feels carved from bone, her eyes steady even as they shine. [say]"I’d kill him for it when he got back, obviously,"[/say] she adds with a faint, strained huff that almost resembles humour, [say]"but I wouldn’t just...end it."[/say]
The logic refuses to bend, no matter how she turns it, and as she studies her mother more closely, sees the subtle tightening at the corners of her eyes and the careful stillness that feels far too deliberate, something clenches low and sharp in Flora’s stomach. [say]"No,"[/say] she says again, more firmly this time, though it lacks any real bite, more disbelief than denial, [say]"he came to a party I was throwing and just...told me you were gone,"[/say] the memory slipping back into place with uncomfortable clarity as she speaks. [asy]"So I channeled Frey right away."[/say] She swallows, the motion small but visible, her brows drawing together as she tries to make sense of the discrepancy, to fit his version of events into what she knows she did. [say]"They came and went so quickly it wasn’t like there was time for anything more, I guess, but..."[/say] Her voice trails again, confusion threading through it as she shakes her head once more, curls shifting against her shoulders as she stops herself, the unfinished thought hovering between them, too tangled and too close to accusation to fully voice.
When Hotaru’s voice breaks around the words it’s a bit fucked up, the phrase lands in Flora’s chest with a strange, hollow echo, and she lets out a small, startled laugh that catches immediately on the edge of something heavier, the sound dissolving almost as soon as it forms. The shift is instant when she sees the tears, the careful control unravelling in quiet, relentless drops that never quite touch her mother’s cheeks, and Flora moves without thinking, closing the distance again to wrap her arms tightly around her, pulling her in with a fierce, protective urgency that mirrors the way she had been held moments before. She presses her face into the Valkyrie's hair, shaking her head against her as though she can physically deny the apology forming on her mother’s lips. [say]"No,"[/say] she murmurs quickly, the word soft but insistent, her grip tightening as if to anchor her in place. [say]"You can tell me anything, I mean it."[/say] Her voice wavers then, not from uncertainty but from the sheer weight of empathy pressing against it, and she exhales a small, broken sound that trembles against her mother’s shoulder. [say]"I’m so sorry, mom,"[/say] she adds, the words slipping out in a quiet rush, her hold firm and unwavering as she keeps her close.
RE: crash-landing backward - Hotaru - 03-24-2026
Looking at her daughter as she struggles to put to words the weight of her disagreement, Hotaru’s face softens into something sorrowful and understanding. [say]“Oh, love. You are so much like me,”[/say] she murmurs, hands gentle as they squeeze around the soft inner skin of Flora’s elbows where she holds on for dear life. [say]“I would have done the same. But this was his choice to make, not mine.”[/say] Which means her heart, her love, and the ways it shows itself - and also Flora’s love - is not wrong. But sometimes that’s just not enough. Love is a two way street; he had chosen to divert from the path they’d shared, leaving her to figure out how to separate the parts of her from what had once been ‘them’.
Sunjata’s vitriolic defensiveness becomes a bitterer and bitterer memory with each piece of context that joins her greater understanding of events. She had doubted Frey before the Flood; yet more devotion that now feels hollow and misplaced. Had he considered his presence at Flora’s side to be involvement? Proactive investigation to claim for himself? Or had his heart already withered by then, rendering him incapable of pursuing answers that love would have driven him to do? And if so, how little time apart had been necessary for his heart to die, feeble in its belief in her as it seems to have been?
Those questions snip the final string that held her together long enough to make it this far, just as far as her daughter’s arms. Those arms wrap around her with fierce, insistent acceptance instead of shrinking away from the naked sight of her breakdown.
Ru clutches her back just as hard, though her strength is not half as noble and admirable as Flora’s in this moment. Flora’s beautiful top turns sheer under the onslaught of her tears, the familiarity of her scent and the notes of her favorite perfume quickly muddled by the tang of salt. Tainting everything she touches as she always does. And yet, somehow, never Flora. She’d come close, once, under the Family’s control, but Flora has never broken or bent from the curse Ru labors beneath.
Her daughter is everything Hotaru could have hoped for her to be; stronger, smarter, and greater than her mother in every way. If she has done only one thing right in this life, it was bringing the twins into the world.
Flora has never said something she doesn’t mean. Perhaps interpreting that in this context is self-serving, but it’s not an unfamiliar part of Hotaru’s many flaws. So she decides to trust it at face value; lean her weight on her daughter literally and metaphorically. [say]“It’s over and I know it. All of it - trying again, trying to be better…Gods, I only ever really loved him you know? I couldn’t move on even during the war, even after having you and Enzo. I thought this time was for good…and now I’m this.”[/say] Immortal. Untouchable. Ostracized amongst her fellow demigods. Discarded twice over by a man with greater connections and sympathy than her. [say]“Less than a year and his heart died. But he didn’t even ask Frey? Ask Remi himself?”[/say] The pained grit of her teeth presses her jaw into Flora’s collarbone, roots of her molars aching as they try to withstand the force of her hurt. [say]“He gets to walk away without feeling the hurt, because it’s conveniently gone, and be blameless in everyone’s eyes. I get the hurt, the grieving, the shitty fucking end of the stick. A dead heart can’t feel? Well, a living one can. And gods forbid I get a-angry -”[/say] her momentum cracks the vitriol in half, bleeding out agony instead, [say]“- because I died. But it was temporary, hardly traumatic if you know you’re immortal right? But his heart died and somehow it’s my fault? And the loss is more important than the ‘how’ or the ‘why’.”[/say] Not just to him but to every judgy bastard that will come along and pity the ever-cursed bad luck of the Flood. The bitter reality of that sobers her enough for the tears to slow, hands slipping from Flora’s back where they’d been holding on for dear life to settle limply in the small of her back.
[say]“Some girls never grow out of being desperate not to be single, just so you know. Or they never learn to see when they’re in the wrong place,”[/say] grates painfully against Flora’s collarbone, dark humor and self-loathing like gargled glass as it tumbles past her tongue. There had been Nate, once. Wessex, though it had never been spoken, never came to fruition. In all other ways, Ru has been a normal Frey worshiper, content to share bodies and not hearts; Sunjata had held it for so long, even when they weren’t together, that pursuing anything else wouldn’t have mattered. Now there’s no place for her as a woman; only as a demigod. [say]“Don’t be like me in that way.”[/say]
Devotion is their shared blessed burden. The desperate desire to be loved is one she hopes Flora will never feel, and if she already has, that she’ll never do so again because of finding Kaisel.
RE: crash-landing backward - Flora - 04-07-2026
Flora feels the shift in her mother’s voice before she understands the words themselves, feels the way something gives beneath the surface of her, not a crack but a collapse, and it pulls at her chest with a force that is almost physical. Tears spill freely now, not stinging so much as blurring everything into something softer and more unbearable, her breath hitching painfully as the shape of what Hotaru is saying settles into her bones in a way that refuses to be reasoned with. It is selfish, she knows it is, because even as she listens she cannot stop the thought from sliding in uninvited, sharp and bright and cruel as sunlight on broken glass; what if Kaisel said the same thing, what if he decided that waiting had a limit, that devotion had an expiration date, that love could simply...stop. The idea coils tight in her chest until it presses against her ribs, and she shakes her head instinctively as though she might force it back out, as though refusing it could make it untrue for everyone.
Her gaze lifts to her mother’s face, wide and imploring through the haze of tears, searching for something that might contradict all of this, some small thread of logic or fairness to hold onto, but there is none, only the raw, aching reality of it written plainly in the lines of Hotaru’s expression. The weight of her tears soaks through Flora’s shoulder, through silk and skin alike, and it hurts in a way she has never quite known how to name, because Hotaru is not meant to break like this, not meant to tremble or unravel or speak of herself as though she has been diminished by someone else’s failure to love her properly. The Valkyrie is supposed to stand unshaken, radiant and terrible and untouchable, and yet here she is in Flora’s arms, grieving something that feels both deeply personal and wildly unjust, and Flora can feel something inside herself tightening in response, a protective instinct so sharp it borders on violent.
She does not interrupt, not because she has nothing to say but because there is too much of it, too many contradictions and protests and questions that have nowhere to land. Her hands curl slightly against her mother’s back before she forces them to loosen, aware in some distant way that the strength in her grip is edging toward something less gentle than she intends, that if she is not careful she might hold too tightly, might try to fix something that cannot be fixed by force. So she stays, pressed close, absorbing the words as they spill out, letting them settle even as they grate against everything she believes about love and loyalty and what it should mean to come back from the brink and find someone waiting for you on the other side.
By the time Hotaru’s voice thins into something quieter, edged with dark humour that cuts more than it soothes, Flora’s own tears have slowed only slightly, replaced by the steady rhythm of her breathing as she tries to keep herself from fracturing alongside her. She presses her face into her mother’s hair again, inhaling salt and something softer beneath it, grounding herself in the reality of her presence before she dares to speak. [say]"Well.."[/say] she begins, the word tentative but not uncertain, her voice muffled slightly where it rests against golden strands as she gathers the thought into something that can exist outside her head. She draws back just enough to look at her again, brows knitting together as she tries to follow the logic through to its end, and then she shakes her head faintly, as though rejecting the premise outright.
[say]"Can we get his heart back?"[/say] she asks, the question slipping out with a kind of earnest practicality that doesn’t quite match the enormity of what it addresses, but feels like the only solid thing she can grasp. Her eyes search her mother’s face again, intent and almost stubborn in their focus, as if the answer might be something they can simply reach for if they try hard enough. [say]"I mean, he can’t really make this decision without having it, right?"[/say]
RE: crash-landing backward - Hotaru - 04-07-2026
Entwined as they are, they look like twins. Maybe that’s why Hotaru feels like she can crumble and break apart in Flora’s arms, like this splintering, terrible grief is a shared thing written in the tear stains on Flora’s cheeks - because Flora looks and acts just like the aunt she never got to know. Hotaru’s twin, who would have held her, and cried with her, and been angry on her behalf in the exact same ways that Hotaru’s daughter does instead. It’s like alcohol that burns the wound it seeks to cleanse. She clings to Flora and sees her plain, but for a moment, even so, she still sees Raeden’s face just beyond her daughter’s shoulder. It makes it too easy to fall apart - show pieces of herself that Flora perhaps shouldn’t be privy to, inspiring dread where it had never thought to grow. Ru prays that Kaisel’s heart will never wither like Sunjata’s; for Flora’s sake.
Tomorrow, she thinks, she will build the pieces back up into something that feels more like herself. She will pray for dreamless sleep and try to remember who she used to be before Sunjata was ever a name she knew. She’s so tired of picking up the pieces, but the Valkyrie has never learned how to quit.
Maybe that’s why a piece of her stirs at Flora’s suggestion. A piece that shouldn’t lift its head, that should let things lie, and just stop trying to force shapes into holes they were never meant to fit in.
[say]“…at the very least if he sees it as my fault it died, maybe fixing it would be reparations?”[/say] Even if she’d done little more than keep it safe, keep it close, as she’d promised the day he gave it to her. Peeling away to fix eyes gone red-streaked with tears upon Flora, Hotaru’s lips cease wavering and instead go still and contemplative. Rejuvenated by the slim, impossible chance at fixing things. Maybe not fully, but enough to reach some sort of closure that she has been denied. [say]“He may not change his mind. But at least I won’t be waiting and wondering.”[/say] She bites her lip, eyes darting away in girlish shame. [say]“It can’t somehow be something that would upset him…surely?”[/say]
RE: crash-landing backward - Flora - 04-09-2026
There is something in the way her mother stills, in the way grief reshapes itself into something quieter and more dangerous, that Flora recognizes with a familiarity that feels almost inherited rather than learned. It is the same instinct that has lived in her own chest for as long as she can remember, the refusal to let something end simply because it has broken, the stubborn, bleeding insistence that if she just holds it together tightly enough—if she presses hard enough, gives enough, bends enough—it might still be salvaged. She feels it now like a second pulse beneath her ribs, that relentless drive to make something work even when it has already begun to unravel, and it floods her with a kind of desperate, fragile hope that feels just as much like pain.
Her fingers curl again at Hotaru’s waist, not restraining this time but grounding, as though she is anchoring them both to the possibility that has just been spoken aloud. [say]"Right?"[/say] she breathes, the word quick and bright despite the tear-trace still glistening on her cheeks, her head nodding almost immediately as though affirmation might solidify the idea into something real. [say]"He’s making this choice without being able to feel it,"[/say] she continues, the logic forming as she speaks it, each piece slotting into place with the kind of certainty that comes from wanting something to be true badly enough that it begins to resemble truth. Her eyes search her mother’s face again, hopeful and intent, as if she can already see the path forward taking shape between them.
She nods again, more firmly this time, but then falters, the motion catching halfway. Her brows knit together and she shakes her head, the contradiction tugging visibly at her expression. [say]"No, how could he?"[/say] she says, the question soft but edged with genuine disbelief, her voice catching slightly as she tries to reconcile the idea. [say]"Who would want their heart to stay dead like that?"[/say] The words hang there, not quite accusation and not quite confusion, but something rawer, something that refuses to accept that anyone could willingly choose absence over feeling, even pain.
RE: crash-landing backward - Hotaru - 04-27-2026
They crane toward each other as if the hope that glitters just out of reach lies in the other's eyes. A greed of its own sort; hungry for some magic fix, some pound of flesh that might equalize the scales and bring back the feeling they'd grown unknowingly addicted to. A flaw that lives in both of them, one they can't see as an enabling type.
Hope stirs less loudly, less powerfully, in the bowl of ashes that sits in Hotaru's chest. It stirs nevertheless. Threads of maybe and what if twine together - all the more fool is she, for not seeing the noose they'll make in the end.
[say]"It can be easier to not feel those things,"[/say] she whispers, the chasm in her own torso evidence that weighs heavy on her lips. [say]"But he can choose to find a way to do that after I've restored it. After he has the choice again."[/say] Making a decision without it is like getting consent from a drunken partner, right? How can their right mind be assured? It's so easy to justify, to cling to the idea taking shape. Hotaru should be better than this. Smarter. But it has been mere days since Sunjata walked out that door, and the desperation is greater than the grace.
Pressing her forehead to Flora's, Ru closes her eyes, shoulders trembling down by centimeters to finally relax in a slope that belies her exhaustion. [say]"Thank you, petal. For everything. You are the greatest thing to have ever come of my life."[/say] Her whisper carries the words over Flora's face in a soft caress, hardly audible beyond the combined curtain of golden hair that wraps around them. Hotaru doubts she'll be able to leave Flora's side tonight - will end up sleeping with the twins in the same bed, like age and growth had never happened - and that's just fine with her. It may well be all that keeps her together right now.
- Fin