No stars left to light your path

eyes on fire, you are the unforecasted storm

Folding laundry on the couch as the fire crackles is a level of peace Hotaru will never tire of during the sunless days of LongNight. Anything is better than the horrors of the years before the war, but there's an additional layer of comfort in shutting the world out for socially-acceptable reasons for a bit. A sealed envelope sits innocuously on the coffee table, taunting her. It draws her gaze between every new garment she picks up despite the fact it never moves or changes. The Valkyrie exhales roughly, irritated.

Laying the shirt she'd just folded down on top of the stack it belongs in, she twists in her seat to hang one arm over the back of the couch and lay her chin on her forearm, digging her free hand into the cushions to transfer the spasm of hurt and reflexive fear when her eyes find Sunjata. The void shadows are lessened given he's not infected, but they refuse to give ground entirely.

"I need to visit Frey after LongNight." It's a quiet declaration that breaks the comfortable silence they'd been sitting in. "Is there anything you think I should ask?" Anything he hadn't done himself? Chewing her lip, Ru fights the urge to glance away as the real topic she wants to bring up weighs down on her tongue. It wouldn't be worth having to see the after-images on Sunjata's face a second time if she did. "I know I should see Flora before them...but I can't even send the damn letter." Puffing a breath that stirs her hair and sets it fluttering like dim firefly light around her face, she settles for lowering her gaze to Sunjata's neck tattoo so she can glower uncomfortably at something without courting the vengeful echoes of the Family's presence.

the Valkyrie

relive who i've been at my worst,
every single night, looking for a distraction

There was something to be said about the quiet peace of LongNight – one that Sunjata tries year after year to get used to, but with the prior traumas of it, finds it more and more difficult to keep that edge from not creeping in. So, mundane tasks, sequestered to home and not the vibrant bonfires of Torchline-esque parties could distract him from the comfort of this.

Sprawled out on the chair as he is, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed over one another, the Flood flips through a book with his head resting against his chin while Hotaru folds their laundry – something he hadn’t even considered to be a possibility years ago but felt so comfortable and normal, that he doesn’t even jump when her voice picks up.

The same can’t be said for Petronella, though, who lifts her head from the soft fuzzy bed in front of their fireplace to blink sleepily up at Hotaru before she stretches with a little meow of a yawn, standing and perhaps sensing the apprehension in Hotaru as she wanders over toward her, rubbing up against her leg before the sea panther hops up and nestles into the Valkyrie’s lap.

Sunjata’s steel gaze flits from his companion to his fiancée, head tilting slightly as he considers it and takes the few moments to parse through the shades that flicker momentarily across her face. “Nothing in particular that I can think of… You should go for yourself, liefde, you don’t need to ask for anyone else.” There’s a smile that tugs on his face that she doesn’t see, soft and just a little lilt of it, likely seen in the way it tugs at the tattoo on his neck slightly.

He'd already gone to Frey and talked about his struggles and the things he was suffering with – and ultimately? He felt better about it.

But when she mentions the letter, his attention drops toward it on the table – like a dark omen just awaiting to be open. A pandora’s box where he can sense her anxiety and apprehension of it despite not knowing the contents of the letter. “I can go with you to send it, if you want?” He asks softly, closing his book and shifting to face her more fully, giving her his absolute undivided attention.

He'd offer to send it for her, but he knows her. He knows Flora. He knows it would be more important for the both of them that she send it herself.

the flood

waiting for the sun to rise
pretty sight for some hollow eyes

totally sniped from odd ilu

eyes on fire, you are the unforecasted storm

Hotaru only turns her gaze when Petronella comes to join her, willing to face the void shadows once more if it means a moment of comfort. The jaguar is not her companion, but she brings peace that feels much the same as it once had with Atlas. The same kind of peace most animals bring her, with their simpler natures that call to her own. Her hand falls to the faint colors of the shapes in Petronella's fur to begin petting in slow strokes that likely comfort her more than the cat. Which is likely exactly the intention, shrewd thing. At least it serves the dual purpose of letting her avoid Sunjata's all-too-knowing gaze.

It feels easier to divert, to show one hand while hiding the other, but if she doesn't catch herself in the act - trying every day to be honest and vulnerable with him - the Flood surely will. Her charity is not untrue, but it reveals that she's nervous to ask Frey why they hadn't encouraged being cleansed. Just as asking about Frey at all had been a poor method of concealing the true hurdle of sending Flora's letter.

"Please," she murmurs, chin to her chest as she cradles Petronella in her lap. The firelight cuts strange shapes across her eyes as she watches the fold of dark fur beneath her fingertips and remembers caressing Flora's bright hair instead. It makes her feel cold in a way the burning logs and Petronella's warm weight can't chase away. "I'm afraid it's going to be too little too late. I've run away from her for so long now." And so much more has happened. But Hotaru hadn't felt like she could explain, or ask for forgiveness, or even be in her right mind for so long after Remi had plunged them both into the spring. She has always tried to be selfless for her children, so how will she stomach Flora's rightful condemnation when her selfishness had harmed her daughter of all people this time?

the Valkyrie

relive who i've been at my worst,
every single night, looking for a distraction

It is the intention – as much as Sunjata can glean from the sea panther’s shared emotions and thoughts. He watches as the companion curls up in Hotaru’s lap, little purring sounds that sound more like mewls and quiet roars of comfort as she rolls onto her side to offer her belly up, her blunt horns pressing into the Valkyrie’s blanket on her lap.

“The worst thing you could do is not say anything at all..” He points out softly, hopefully as encouraging as it’s meant to be – the sensation bolstered through the attuned bond in case it’s misconstrued. “Hurts more in the long run to pretend like it never happened.” He knows it isn’t a fair comparison to make – not when he loved her so dearly and knows she did it for the reasons of protecting them in the best way she knew possible at the time – violet hued as it was. But his father had been wonderful at doing egregious things and pretending like it never happened, using that to try and prove that Sunjata was overreacting for his own reactions toward the horrible monster he called a father.

But that was in the past now – and hopefully Shaju’s bones have been ate clean by the creatures at the bottom of the ocean in Torchline.

His lips part to say something else when a knock on the door occurs, and rather than have Hotaru face it, the Flood stands immediately and drifts toward the door, apprehension as always given LongNight, but the voices behind are manic and different, panicked about a body found in the Refuge, something Sunjata knows cannot wait. He glances back toward Hotaru with a frown and an apologetic pulse of I love you, I’ll be back I promise before he snags his coat, scarf, and gloves, and slips into the night to see what all had happened.

- FIN

the flood

waiting for the sun to rise
pretty sight for some hollow eyes

totally sniped from odd ilu