Hotaru
I'm made of dead man's money, you can see it in my smile
She has been animal more often than woman the past two days, tracking by scent and instinct where magic and mortality fail her. It's something that must be remedied in the future, that she is certain of - this inability to reach the people she loves most when the time of need is at its greatest. But she is unfaltering in her pursuit, dogged in her hounding of his steps. There is no need greater than her own right now. She needs to see him, hold and be held by him, to sink too-sharp nails into his skin and ground him to her in some tangible way that will remind herself that at least he is immortal. At least he cannot be taken from her. And maybe then she can break. Maybe then she can rest.
His draconic figure shrinks until it must surely have returned to human form, but the size of his shift alone is a beacon that will lead her at last to his side. Hart koning, she calls, golden feathers trembling with fatigue as a mournful cry echoes alongside it through avian vocals. Wait, stay, let me come to you, it begs.
She lands graceless and hurried, shifting back before her feet can fully touch the ground. Unaware and vulnerable for it she approaches with expression cracked and wanting, hand outstretched to try and close the space between them as the bond rumbles with waves of ill-concealed depths of emotion. It takes the last bit of control she has to keep it hushed, lest it drown him alongside her. "Beloved," she croaks, a sentence of its own. Hotaru isn't sure she has the capability to form words beyond these endearments right now regardless. Certainly none that would convey the same depth of devotion and need.
His draconic figure shrinks until it must surely have returned to human form, but the size of his shift alone is a beacon that will lead her at last to his side. Hart koning, she calls, golden feathers trembling with fatigue as a mournful cry echoes alongside it through avian vocals. Wait, stay, let me come to you, it begs.
She lands graceless and hurried, shifting back before her feet can fully touch the ground. Unaware and vulnerable for it she approaches with expression cracked and wanting, hand outstretched to try and close the space between them as the bond rumbles with waves of ill-concealed depths of emotion. It takes the last bit of control she has to keep it hushed, lest it drown him alongside her. "Beloved," she croaks, a sentence of its own. Hotaru isn't sure she has the capability to form words beyond these endearments right now regardless. Certainly none that would convey the same depth of devotion and need.
Watch the fire rise, burning through my paper skin
