The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display
a morbid painting on display
The entire process of gathering her few belongings with Noah's help and getting to Torchline is a vague blur. Shame, at least, is an easier emotion to contend with than the hurt that festers endlessly, and she chews on it like a starving street dog with a stolen bone. She is not all that much older than her children given the world they live in, but it matters little when faced with the reality of moving in with them as opposed to the other way around. And over a breakup? Frey forgive her.
Oh, but if only she could see all of this in such a simple way; a breakup, a broken heart, something to suffer through but nevertheless find familiar in the grand scheme of things.
None of this is familiar.
The newly named Andraste curls around her shoulders - already large enough even in youth to require coiling her tail around Ru's bicep to remain steady - and stares at every passerby with narrow, evaluating eyes. Ru moves through them with Noah at her side, head held high and expression unrelentingly placid. Performance is both distraction and instinct, protection and pastime.
When she gets to Flora's door she pauses, turning to kiss Noah's cheek and squeeze him tight where she murmurs her thanks and necessary reassurances before they part. Hotaru watches him depart, and remains there for many long moments even after he has vanished from view. Then she turns - half-shifted ears detecting Flora's faint but familiar heartbeat within - and steels herself before twisting the handle and stepping inside, closing the door behind her.
"It's just me, petal," she announces, voice still slightly hoarse and duller than it's been in years. Still, she musters a smile from somewhere deeper than humans should be able to reach, that place all mothers can draw from, and drops her bag to reach for her daughter. "Come here, sweetheart." Let me hold you and remember there's other things to live for. She can't bear to phrase it as a question, terrified her daughter will reject her just as Sunjata had and selfishly attempting to prevent that by allowing no alternative.
Oh, but if only she could see all of this in such a simple way; a breakup, a broken heart, something to suffer through but nevertheless find familiar in the grand scheme of things.
None of this is familiar.
The newly named Andraste curls around her shoulders - already large enough even in youth to require coiling her tail around Ru's bicep to remain steady - and stares at every passerby with narrow, evaluating eyes. Ru moves through them with Noah at her side, head held high and expression unrelentingly placid. Performance is both distraction and instinct, protection and pastime.
When she gets to Flora's door she pauses, turning to kiss Noah's cheek and squeeze him tight where she murmurs her thanks and necessary reassurances before they part. Hotaru watches him depart, and remains there for many long moments even after he has vanished from view. Then she turns - half-shifted ears detecting Flora's faint but familiar heartbeat within - and steels herself before twisting the handle and stepping inside, closing the door behind her.
"It's just me, petal," she announces, voice still slightly hoarse and duller than it's been in years. Still, she musters a smile from somewhere deeper than humans should be able to reach, that place all mothers can draw from, and drops her bag to reach for her daughter. "Come here, sweetheart." Let me hold you and remember there's other things to live for. She can't bear to phrase it as a question, terrified her daughter will reject her just as Sunjata had and selfishly attempting to prevent that by allowing no alternative.
This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides
Buried at each others sides
