The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display
a morbid painting on display
These tunnels are unfamiliar to her, and yet she stands at their entrance alone. Even Atlas has disappeared into the distant undergrowth to give her the illusion of privacy, ready to secret her away only once this is all over. Standing barefoot in the gritty sand that leads into the tunnels, Hotaru's arms wrap around her own body as she stares sightlessly into their depths. A solitary, diminutive figure on the horizon. The sun is hidden behind a grey cast of clouds, wind pulling at her golden hair and tickling it against her cheeks like a playful sprite.
'Rae's Fingers. Find me.'
All she had left for Sunjata to find before departing. She hasn't been here long, but Hotaru is willing to wait as long as she needs.
Deimos' words rumble in her head like thunder roiling in the pressurized clouds akin to those overhead. They are not intimidating. She is a storm girl, and his voice is as close to the songs her blood sang as a human could hope to meet. Perhaps she should have sought out Nate first, but she knows her heart is weak, and that if she does not do this first that Nate has the potential to draw her back in. To eek out promises she will keep, even at her own detriment.
The wind picks up, smelling of petrichor that promises new rain. Hotaru's eyes move to the sky. She is a storm girl. Too long has she been tied, docile and willing to be tamed. It was her own mistake to think she had found someone who was willing to dance in the tempest at her side.
'Rae's Fingers. Find me.'
All she had left for Sunjata to find before departing. She hasn't been here long, but Hotaru is willing to wait as long as she needs.
Deimos' words rumble in her head like thunder roiling in the pressurized clouds akin to those overhead. They are not intimidating. She is a storm girl, and his voice is as close to the songs her blood sang as a human could hope to meet. Perhaps she should have sought out Nate first, but she knows her heart is weak, and that if she does not do this first that Nate has the potential to draw her back in. To eek out promises she will keep, even at her own detriment.
The wind picks up, smelling of petrichor that promises new rain. Hotaru's eyes move to the sky. She is a storm girl. Too long has she been tied, docile and willing to be tamed. It was her own mistake to think she had found someone who was willing to dance in the tempest at her side.
This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides
Buried at each others sides
