The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display
a morbid painting on display
Given the warmth that pools in her chest, Deimos' words are a cold knife that cuts her straight down her breastbone. She pauses in their trek, startled by his vehemence and equally uncertain of where it came from. "I never said they were just a safety net," she refutes, bewildered. Hotaru intends to explain more thoroughly - at least until the cut of his anger and injustice rips her sideways, leaving her bleeding out and recoiling from the wound.
"What?" Her voice is small and frail in a way she'd hate to have anyone else hear. The anger comes slow, a shield that rises too late - never accustomed to having to defend herself against him of all people. It does nothing to quell the hurt that pricks behind her eyes even as her face contorts into a useless snarl; theatrics that, like a cornered animal, tell him to stay away.
"What am I possibly taking away from them except my daily presence?" Her lips tremble, eyes glassy but narrowed with anger. She wants to believe this is a misunderstanding - but the use of the word everyone keeps echoing in her head. As if they hadn't always agreed that family was family and the rest could rot. "You are the one saying I’m using the people I love. As if leaving Halo would stop me from showing up if any of them were in need!" A sharp laugh cracks out of her chest. "Like you've been doing for Noah! Or is he different because it's Vi's fault and not Sunjata's?" The hiss of it is acidic between her teeth, breaths coming fast and short as she tries to make this a conversation and not a fight. Perhaps it's in vain - Hotaru has never known a different way to deal with her pain than to lash out. Because she knows that’s what this is all about - Sunjata. “If I can accept you banning him, you hating him, and still see you in a positive light - why can’t you do the same for me? Why does it have to suddenly turn into me using people?” He can think her choice is stupid, but with miscommunication abound, all she can hear is his condemnation in her ears, see him looking down on her instead of just her decisions.
"What?" Her voice is small and frail in a way she'd hate to have anyone else hear. The anger comes slow, a shield that rises too late - never accustomed to having to defend herself against him of all people. It does nothing to quell the hurt that pricks behind her eyes even as her face contorts into a useless snarl; theatrics that, like a cornered animal, tell him to stay away.
"What am I possibly taking away from them except my daily presence?" Her lips tremble, eyes glassy but narrowed with anger. She wants to believe this is a misunderstanding - but the use of the word everyone keeps echoing in her head. As if they hadn't always agreed that family was family and the rest could rot. "You are the one saying I’m using the people I love. As if leaving Halo would stop me from showing up if any of them were in need!" A sharp laugh cracks out of her chest. "Like you've been doing for Noah! Or is he different because it's Vi's fault and not Sunjata's?" The hiss of it is acidic between her teeth, breaths coming fast and short as she tries to make this a conversation and not a fight. Perhaps it's in vain - Hotaru has never known a different way to deal with her pain than to lash out. Because she knows that’s what this is all about - Sunjata. “If I can accept you banning him, you hating him, and still see you in a positive light - why can’t you do the same for me? Why does it have to suddenly turn into me using people?” He can think her choice is stupid, but with miscommunication abound, all she can hear is his condemnation in her ears, see him looking down on her instead of just her decisions.
This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides
Buried at each others sides
