you are such a soft and messy thing, nobody knows how to take care of you
A wry, sad smile paints itself upon her lips. Raeden’s loss is merely another monument of grief built in the wasteland of her memories. The loss of her children may be a crack in the tectonic plates of her foundation, but Raeden’s is no less affecting. “Yes, and there is always the hope she is well, wherever she is. Her and her children made it through the portal last I saw.” Nieces and nephews she would never know. The hard part of having a large family was losing them.
The purse of his lips when she finally lifts her gaze makes her own twitch in amusement, or as much as she can feel given the topic at hand. With how close they sit, his words award her the opportunity to reach out and squeeze his knee, offering physical comfort when she can. “I know,” she whispers, a voice only for him, aware of how much it means for him to have said the words so plainly. How great the pain must be for him to speak of it at all. “She still has not spoken to me since…since her death. I’m glad she at least still feels she can talk to you, if nothing else.” If nothing more. Part of Ru resents the young girl for her childishness, for hurting the Valkyrie and the Sword so willfully when both would do nearly anything for her. But she has been hurt so much by others that her own prickliness is nearly inevitable. Still she knows if Kiada sought her out this very moment, Hotaru would bend like a sapling in the wind to accommodate her feelings. Such was the way of family in the Valkyrie’s eyes. Adorning the lantern with small white stones in lieu of something more precious like pearls, the woman languishes in the quiet of the street, letting the grief and memories ebb and flow naturally instead of fighting them down as she does nearly every other day.
The purse of his lips when she finally lifts her gaze makes her own twitch in amusement, or as much as she can feel given the topic at hand. With how close they sit, his words award her the opportunity to reach out and squeeze his knee, offering physical comfort when she can. “I know,” she whispers, a voice only for him, aware of how much it means for him to have said the words so plainly. How great the pain must be for him to speak of it at all. “She still has not spoken to me since…since her death. I’m glad she at least still feels she can talk to you, if nothing else.” If nothing more. Part of Ru resents the young girl for her childishness, for hurting the Valkyrie and the Sword so willfully when both would do nearly anything for her. But she has been hurt so much by others that her own prickliness is nearly inevitable. Still she knows if Kiada sought her out this very moment, Hotaru would bend like a sapling in the wind to accommodate her feelings. Such was the way of family in the Valkyrie’s eyes. Adorning the lantern with small white stones in lieu of something more precious like pearls, the woman languishes in the quiet of the street, letting the grief and memories ebb and flow naturally instead of fighting them down as she does nearly every other day.
