How do I keep myself from fallin' apart when I ain't never felt part of a whole?
Others may have expected her to run. Retreat through static portals to a land of ice and solitude, where eyes turn away instead of linger and investigate. They would be wrong. She remains, long after Deimos has returned to bow his vulnerable neck to Morgan's blade. There is still something she must do.
So it is that she is found here, one shadow too few. It is the shadow she was born with, and yet it feels empty and small. She clings to the sensation of her linen skirt around her thighs, the wooden basket that scratches lightly at her arms. Physical things that keep her rooted in the here and now. And so it is that when she comes upon Remi, pulling cloth from golden skin in slow strokes like dark water over sculpted clay, she lets her eyes linger in distant appreciation. It is the first time a shrine has not been empty and awaiting her but it does not dissuade her.
His back is broad and scarred in the golden light as she steps barefoot through the waters to his side, setting her basket down wordlessly. Long fingers pull at her gauzy top, letting it fall from her limp grasp to drape gossamer over the basket's rim. Her skirt follows next, underwear alongside it, until she is left bare in the sunlight.
They are like Adam and Eve, a study of contrasts as they come to the bosom of their herald. She lithe and unmarred in companionship to his strong and scarred physique. Long golden hair tumbles down her back and forward to conceal her breasts from view, and she kneels beside him before any words ever leave her lips. "I hope you don't mind me party crashing, it was quite the stunning invitation," she aims his way, the spark of her normal fire dulled even as her lips pull in wry greeting.
So it is that she is found here, one shadow too few. It is the shadow she was born with, and yet it feels empty and small. She clings to the sensation of her linen skirt around her thighs, the wooden basket that scratches lightly at her arms. Physical things that keep her rooted in the here and now. And so it is that when she comes upon Remi, pulling cloth from golden skin in slow strokes like dark water over sculpted clay, she lets her eyes linger in distant appreciation. It is the first time a shrine has not been empty and awaiting her but it does not dissuade her.
His back is broad and scarred in the golden light as she steps barefoot through the waters to his side, setting her basket down wordlessly. Long fingers pull at her gauzy top, letting it fall from her limp grasp to drape gossamer over the basket's rim. Her skirt follows next, underwear alongside it, until she is left bare in the sunlight.
They are like Adam and Eve, a study of contrasts as they come to the bosom of their herald. She lithe and unmarred in companionship to his strong and scarred physique. Long golden hair tumbles down her back and forward to conceal her breasts from view, and she kneels beside him before any words ever leave her lips. "I hope you don't mind me party crashing, it was quite the stunning invitation," she aims his way, the spark of her normal fire dulled even as her lips pull in wry greeting.
HOTARU
