'till your fingers decompose
She is there as the last word leaves Ronin's lips.
Silhouetted against the window with firelight throwing golden calligraphy against her gown, the goddess regards the Supernova with a look that's remarkably mortal: dejection made bitter by distance and time.
"Hello Ronin." Resplendence still contours her every movement and yet there is a hollowness to it for those who know where to look; the depths of her galactic stare do not penetrate as far, the lines of laughter around her lips and eyes are shallow, and the tangibility of her body makes her seem all too mortal. "How are you feeling?" She wonders, not bothering to move away from the window, asking after his own wellbeing as if it had been the Nova who had been forced to battle alone in the vastness of space.
Silhouetted against the window with firelight throwing golden calligraphy against her gown, the goddess regards the Supernova with a look that's remarkably mortal: dejection made bitter by distance and time.
"Hello Ronin." Resplendence still contours her every movement and yet there is a hollowness to it for those who know where to look; the depths of her galactic stare do not penetrate as far, the lines of laughter around her lips and eyes are shallow, and the tangibility of her body makes her seem all too mortal. "How are you feeling?" She wonders, not bothering to move away from the window, asking after his own wellbeing as if it had been the Nova who had been forced to battle alone in the vastness of space.
keep my hand in yours.
