Hotaru
It feels wrong to stand here, oppositional instead of united, stiff and unbending. Hotaru aches so deep her bones hurt. She doesn’t want to lose this one thing. This one, last, surviving thread that had managed not to fray completely. Were it not already for the twins and Deimos, she isn’t sure she’d be here at all, but to be further untethered is to incite pain her unfortunately mortal flesh cannot bear.
It’s a pretty lie. Sweet, and all the more tempting because of it. Like honey baiting flies and gnats and all other manner of winged vermin - all for the purpose of extermination. Maybe Wessex truly believes it. Hotaru cannot. She watched her world die, watched deities fall, hundreds wiped from existence. This is a story she knows the ending to. Yet, all the same, she pretends. Like a little girl refusing to turn the last page of a beloved book, scared to end it once and for all.
“I would never. Not you. Not him. None of you.” Her voice is strained but it never wavers. Frey wouldn’t ask it if her - doesn’t care enough, surely, and Hotaru is hardly a pawn worth maneuvering. But even if they did, the answer would be no. Her weakness will always be her loved ones. Capable of cruelty and betrayal she may be, but her hand would never move against the Ascended.
Dual toned eyes gleam with tears that waver tenuously on pale lashes, twisting the vision of Wessex - untouched by pink cheeks or red nose from the chilled air - into an artistic smear of colors. “But you can’t believe it will be neutral. A stronghold maybe, when the war starts. That I can see.” Few others could dwell in the icu reaches with such ease. And it was only accessible by those with wings, or those who accepted The Voice’s portals. “And if you win, what then? I’d not be welcomed back any sooner.” Not that her heart lies in Halo anymore. Not the way it does for Deimos. Home doesn’t exist here for her.
It’s a pretty lie. Sweet, and all the more tempting because of it. Like honey baiting flies and gnats and all other manner of winged vermin - all for the purpose of extermination. Maybe Wessex truly believes it. Hotaru cannot. She watched her world die, watched deities fall, hundreds wiped from existence. This is a story she knows the ending to. Yet, all the same, she pretends. Like a little girl refusing to turn the last page of a beloved book, scared to end it once and for all.
“I would never. Not you. Not him. None of you.” Her voice is strained but it never wavers. Frey wouldn’t ask it if her - doesn’t care enough, surely, and Hotaru is hardly a pawn worth maneuvering. But even if they did, the answer would be no. Her weakness will always be her loved ones. Capable of cruelty and betrayal she may be, but her hand would never move against the Ascended.
Dual toned eyes gleam with tears that waver tenuously on pale lashes, twisting the vision of Wessex - untouched by pink cheeks or red nose from the chilled air - into an artistic smear of colors. “But you can’t believe it will be neutral. A stronghold maybe, when the war starts. That I can see.” Few others could dwell in the icu reaches with such ease. And it was only accessible by those with wings, or those who accepted The Voice’s portals. “And if you win, what then? I’d not be welcomed back any sooner.” Not that her heart lies in Halo anymore. Not the way it does for Deimos. Home doesn’t exist here for her.
what I did, do, to me and you, keeps me awake
if I were a ghost, you'd be the proof
if I were a ghost, you'd be the proof
