HOTARU
She's in a long black coat tonight
Waiting for me in the downpour outside
Waiting for me in the downpour outside
The time between falling into Deimos' arms outside the door that separated her from Rexanna's body, and now, is time that she will never be able to distinguish. It's a muddled blur at best, an emotional tapestry woven with sightless eyes. No clearer than paint water, murky and grey. She fumbles blindly for the handle of the door, shuts it quietly behind Atlas who refuses to be parted from her. When at last she manages to summon the strength to turn, to see, she must lean once more upon her companion to keep her feet beneath her. As such, Atlas guides her onward towards her sister's prone form and Bastien's hunched vigil over it.
Part of her rails at the idea, at the presumption that she must ask, but ask she does. "May I?" Voice wavering uncharacteristically, tears seemingly unending. One body should not hold this much grief, this much regret. It feels as if she's tearing apart at seams shoddily patched at best. Eyes beseeching, pleading, even as her hand tentatively moves to take up Rexanna's. Atlas remains close in case she needs him, but she is already crumpling against the table's edge as both hands clutch the still, unnatural hand that had warmed hers for so many years. She does not cry as gracefully as the Ascended, knows she must look a wreck in a way Bastien has never seen of her, but in this their grief is shared. A kinship of ugliness that cannot be stripped any further. Raw and blemished and hurting. "I just found you again," she weeps against the pale skin, pressing the back of Rexanna's hand to her eyes as if to stop the flood that emerges from them. It feels wrong, to break apart so fully in front of Bastien, whose grief is different but no less deep. But she won't even dream of demanding he give her privacy, not when she knows how hard it will be on herself to walk out of this room once more.
Part of her rails at the idea, at the presumption that she must ask, but ask she does. "May I?" Voice wavering uncharacteristically, tears seemingly unending. One body should not hold this much grief, this much regret. It feels as if she's tearing apart at seams shoddily patched at best. Eyes beseeching, pleading, even as her hand tentatively moves to take up Rexanna's. Atlas remains close in case she needs him, but she is already crumpling against the table's edge as both hands clutch the still, unnatural hand that had warmed hers for so many years. She does not cry as gracefully as the Ascended, knows she must look a wreck in a way Bastien has never seen of her, but in this their grief is shared. A kinship of ugliness that cannot be stripped any further. Raw and blemished and hurting. "I just found you again," she weeps against the pale skin, pressing the back of Rexanna's hand to her eyes as if to stop the flood that emerges from them. It feels wrong, to break apart so fully in front of Bastien, whose grief is different but no less deep. But she won't even dream of demanding he give her privacy, not when she knows how hard it will be on herself to walk out of this room once more.
singing "Baby come home" in a melody of tears
While the rhythm of the rain keeps time
While the rhythm of the rain keeps time
