flora
Flora’s breath catches so sharply that the sound escapes her before she can shape it into anything graceful, a soft gasp pulled straight from her lungs as her mother’s words land in pieces that refuse to assemble themselves into something sensible. Confusion floods her expression almost immediately, aqua eyes lifting to search Hotaru’s bi-coloured gaze as though the answer might be written there somewhere between gold and shadow, because what she has just heard cannot possibly be correct. Her hands tighten instinctively where they rest at her mother’s waist, not possessive but anchoring, as though she is trying to steady both of them against a story that keeps threatening to tip sideways. "What—?" The word stumbles out before she can gather it into something more coherent, and she blinks rapidly as her mind attempts to catch up with what her ears have apparently understood. "That’s ridiculous," she says a moment later, the protest tumbling forward with breathless disbelief, the faint tremor still clinging to the edges of her voice even as she tries to marshal it into something firmer. "It’s not like it was your fault, you didn’t—" she falters briefly, shaking her head as though the motion alone might rearrange the logic into something more reasonable, "you can’t be mad at someone for dying."
The sentence leaves her mouth before she quite realizes how absurd it sounds, and for a heartbeat she simply stares at her mother in silence as the implication settles heavily between them, because apparently that is exactly what has happened. The thought sits uneasily in her chest, sharp and unwelcome, but Hotaru continues and the thread of Flora’s attention follows instinctively, catching on the mention of Frey and Sunjata’s attempts to look for her. She frowns faintly, the expression more puzzled than defensive, and a slight blankness passes across her features as she tries to reconstruct the frantic sequence of her own decisions. "When he told me you were missing," she says slowly, the words emerging in careful order as though she is laying them down to inspect them, "I channeled Frey right then and there and asked them about you, and later that evening I asked Remi if he knew if you were dead." She draws in a small breath as the memory returns with surprising clarity, fingers tightening almost unconsciously at Hotaru’s waist. "I knew Sunjata had asked Deimos about you, but..." she trails off with a quiet, helpless shrug of one shoulder, the explanation offered without accusation yet unable to hide the bewilderment lingering behind it. Surely going to Frey was the most logical place to start? And as Frey's demigod, it wasn't as though Sunjata was limited to a quick 6-second chat the way she'd been, with Remi at least providing information enough to know that Hotaru wasn't (dead)dead.
When Hotaru’s voice shifts again and the words engagement and broke it off finally reach Flora’s ears in their full shape, the effect is immediate and unmistakable; her eyes widen dramatically, the earlier confusion giving way to a raw, unguarded shock that draws a fragile, breathless little sound from her throat before she can stop it. "What?" The word slips out in a thin murmur, fractured by disbelief and a sharp ache of sympathy that pulls her brows together. She stares at her mother as though the answer might rewrite itself if she simply looks long enough, because she cannot reconcile the idea that someone could greet a returned life with rejection rather than relief. Surely he should have been overjoyed, she thinks dimly, surely anyone would have been when the person they loved walked back from the impossible, but the evidence of her mother’s expression makes the argument feel flimsy before it can even take shape.
The moment shifts again as Hotaru speaks of Torchline, of citizenship and beginnings that carry the quiet weight of nowhere else to go, and the heaviness pressing against Flora’s chest loosens just enough for a small laugh to escape her. The sound is soft and a little incredulous, her head shaking gently as if the idea itself is charmingly unnecessary. "Of course," she replies without hesitation, warmth threading immediately through her voice as her hands slide reassuringly against her mother’s sides. "You can stay here as long as you want, Wildering House has more rooms than I know what to do with." Her smile deepens slightly despite the lingering sting in her eyes, the expression turning tender as she tilts her head, curls catching the late-afternoon light filtering through the open doorway. "For forever if you want. It's been way too long since we were all in the same place."
The sentence leaves her mouth before she quite realizes how absurd it sounds, and for a heartbeat she simply stares at her mother in silence as the implication settles heavily between them, because apparently that is exactly what has happened. The thought sits uneasily in her chest, sharp and unwelcome, but Hotaru continues and the thread of Flora’s attention follows instinctively, catching on the mention of Frey and Sunjata’s attempts to look for her. She frowns faintly, the expression more puzzled than defensive, and a slight blankness passes across her features as she tries to reconstruct the frantic sequence of her own decisions. "When he told me you were missing," she says slowly, the words emerging in careful order as though she is laying them down to inspect them, "I channeled Frey right then and there and asked them about you, and later that evening I asked Remi if he knew if you were dead." She draws in a small breath as the memory returns with surprising clarity, fingers tightening almost unconsciously at Hotaru’s waist. "I knew Sunjata had asked Deimos about you, but..." she trails off with a quiet, helpless shrug of one shoulder, the explanation offered without accusation yet unable to hide the bewilderment lingering behind it. Surely going to Frey was the most logical place to start? And as Frey's demigod, it wasn't as though Sunjata was limited to a quick 6-second chat the way she'd been, with Remi at least providing information enough to know that Hotaru wasn't (dead)dead.
When Hotaru’s voice shifts again and the words engagement and broke it off finally reach Flora’s ears in their full shape, the effect is immediate and unmistakable; her eyes widen dramatically, the earlier confusion giving way to a raw, unguarded shock that draws a fragile, breathless little sound from her throat before she can stop it. "What?" The word slips out in a thin murmur, fractured by disbelief and a sharp ache of sympathy that pulls her brows together. She stares at her mother as though the answer might rewrite itself if she simply looks long enough, because she cannot reconcile the idea that someone could greet a returned life with rejection rather than relief. Surely he should have been overjoyed, she thinks dimly, surely anyone would have been when the person they loved walked back from the impossible, but the evidence of her mother’s expression makes the argument feel flimsy before it can even take shape.
The moment shifts again as Hotaru speaks of Torchline, of citizenship and beginnings that carry the quiet weight of nowhere else to go, and the heaviness pressing against Flora’s chest loosens just enough for a small laugh to escape her. The sound is soft and a little incredulous, her head shaking gently as if the idea itself is charmingly unnecessary. "Of course," she replies without hesitation, warmth threading immediately through her voice as her hands slide reassuringly against her mother’s sides. "You can stay here as long as you want, Wildering House has more rooms than I know what to do with." Her smile deepens slightly despite the lingering sting in her eyes, the expression turning tender as she tilts her head, curls catching the late-afternoon light filtering through the open doorway. "For forever if you want. It's been way too long since we were all in the same place."
what doesn't kill me makes
me want you more
me want you more
