You won't go lonely into this fight, if you just hold me we will survive
The sand shifts in a susurrous crumble beneath their steps as they walk, heat giving way quickly as the sun descends farther from view. The cold has never bothered her though, and even Wessex's temperate hand in hers feels natural these days. It is the most peace she has been afforded recently. For a moment she is grateful for whatever forces are at work, giving here these extra hours to spend with the Wraith and a chance to tell the only other person she trusts in this world about the weight that hangs heavy on her shoulders. Deimos already knows of course as it the natural way of things for Hotaru, but she is not a person that trusts easily. That has friends. But when she does...Hotaru squeezes Wessex's hand as the woman apologizes, turning a warm look her way. "I would be at your side all over again if you needed me. There's nothing to apologize for." The sickness was terrible yes, but she would have ended up here all the same wouldn't she have? Sunjata would have made his choice, and she would have made hers. It's a painful thought, and as such she falls quiet as the ache in her breast turns into a sharp stab once more.
A soft hum of agreement towards Atlas, amusement budding tentatively around the new wound inside her, is cut short the moment Sunjata is mentioned again. Withering away like plants beneath the scorching sun, leaving her barren and burned. Her tongue feels dry and thick in her mouth. "When he returned from the sea, he said he finally wanted children with me. That they both did. I told him I intended to ask The Voice if it was possible for her help with Nate, and he agreed that Safrin would be a last resort as she would ask too much. That same night he went to Safrin and bargained a child with her in return for saving Nate." Does she care that this information should be private? No. He had made his choice, and she doesn't give a damn if Wessex uses it in her position as a demigod for The Voice. Hotaru is tired of him getting away with every horrible thing. Is her pain not just as valid? Is she so easily forgotten and moved on from? Is she expected to not tell her friends now too? "I...I ended everything with him. But I think Nate intends to stay. And so I have lost them both, and they have moved on. With their new daughter. As if I meant nothing." Tears do not fall, but her gaze is empty and stuck on the horizon, each step mechanical. Wessex's hand in hers is the only anchor she has to her own body it feels, floating above it in all other ways in some desperate bid to not feel the pain that fester there.
Cracking a broken smile, she finally shifts her eyes towards the Wraith, exhaustion prominent on her fair features. "Sorry. I know that's a lot, but you're one of the only ones I feel I can tell." A compliment really. Hotaru trusts Wessex not to judge her for her own vulnerability, her stupidity in thinking she could ever mean anything permanent or weighted to either man. That she could compete with their bond when the chips were down. That they would ever choose her. Or even have the gall to at least respect her as a partner.
Focusing instead on what Wessex shares to try and drag herself out of the mire of her thoughts, Hotaru gives a soft hum of understanding. She had been Queen herself for most her life, young as she'd been when the crown had been handed down to her. Dissent is nothing new to her, and she knows how frustrating it can be. "It is easier for them to paint you as the figurehead of blame. They still cling to notions of success without sacrifice. How frequently do they see The Voice?" For all that she cannot trust the deity herself - too much trauma from Kisamoa, from false gods and pretenders that had killed her children in front of her as her world was torn apart - Hotaru believes they would find their path more easily if they spoke to their creator about their concerns.
A soft hum of agreement towards Atlas, amusement budding tentatively around the new wound inside her, is cut short the moment Sunjata is mentioned again. Withering away like plants beneath the scorching sun, leaving her barren and burned. Her tongue feels dry and thick in her mouth. "When he returned from the sea, he said he finally wanted children with me. That they both did. I told him I intended to ask The Voice if it was possible for her help with Nate, and he agreed that Safrin would be a last resort as she would ask too much. That same night he went to Safrin and bargained a child with her in return for saving Nate." Does she care that this information should be private? No. He had made his choice, and she doesn't give a damn if Wessex uses it in her position as a demigod for The Voice. Hotaru is tired of him getting away with every horrible thing. Is her pain not just as valid? Is she so easily forgotten and moved on from? Is she expected to not tell her friends now too? "I...I ended everything with him. But I think Nate intends to stay. And so I have lost them both, and they have moved on. With their new daughter. As if I meant nothing." Tears do not fall, but her gaze is empty and stuck on the horizon, each step mechanical. Wessex's hand in hers is the only anchor she has to her own body it feels, floating above it in all other ways in some desperate bid to not feel the pain that fester there.
Cracking a broken smile, she finally shifts her eyes towards the Wraith, exhaustion prominent on her fair features. "Sorry. I know that's a lot, but you're one of the only ones I feel I can tell." A compliment really. Hotaru trusts Wessex not to judge her for her own vulnerability, her stupidity in thinking she could ever mean anything permanent or weighted to either man. That she could compete with their bond when the chips were down. That they would ever choose her. Or even have the gall to at least respect her as a partner.
Focusing instead on what Wessex shares to try and drag herself out of the mire of her thoughts, Hotaru gives a soft hum of understanding. She had been Queen herself for most her life, young as she'd been when the crown had been handed down to her. Dissent is nothing new to her, and she knows how frustrating it can be. "It is easier for them to paint you as the figurehead of blame. They still cling to notions of success without sacrifice. How frequently do they see The Voice?" For all that she cannot trust the deity herself - too much trauma from Kisamoa, from false gods and pretenders that had killed her children in front of her as her world was torn apart - Hotaru believes they would find their path more easily if they spoke to their creator about their concerns.
