Honey, these arms that once held you are ready to fight
She wakes quickly these days. Some remnant of her time in the wilderness perhaps, or the lingering fear that more time has been lost in the realm of unconsciousness that so resembles the fog of amnesia she'd suffered from. Sitting up in bed, Hotaru sighs and pushes her hands through her hair, propping elbows on folded knees. It takes a few moments of breathing - and the brush of Atlas' consciousness against hers from outside as he recognizes her awakening - for her heart to settle into a natural rhythm. When it does, her gaze lands on a note in the empty side of the bed where Sunjata (and Nate, her heart twinges) should be. Where normally he would be there with his warm, calloused hands to help ground her as she comes to awareness.
Frowning, the lightning girl grabs the paper, furrows between her brows only deepening at the message written on it. Standing, she discards it back onto the bed without further thought or care to change or prepare, legs taking her across the chilled floor and to the balcony door. What little light is cast through the door reveals drooped wings, and Hotaru steps through the door quietly, an inkling of something terrible trickling in her gut. "Jata? What's wrong?" She moves around his wing, hand immediately reaching to touch his elbow, concern apparent on her face.
Frowning, the lightning girl grabs the paper, furrows between her brows only deepening at the message written on it. Standing, she discards it back onto the bed without further thought or care to change or prepare, legs taking her across the chilled floor and to the balcony door. What little light is cast through the door reveals drooped wings, and Hotaru steps through the door quietly, an inkling of something terrible trickling in her gut. "Jata? What's wrong?" She moves around his wing, hand immediately reaching to touch his elbow, concern apparent on her face.
HOTARU
