Hotaru
with no outside threat just a fire in your chest
Mateo’s stiffness is understandable, and though her assumption for Flora’s is completely off base, Hotaru trusts neither will step on any of the too-thin nerves that spread like spiderwebs between the four of them. In contrast, Remi’s wing - more bone than feather now - is a familiar cocoon amidst that tremulous web. One that vibrates with the rise of flowers and the arrival of the one they’ve sought for a year now.
Mort is an unfamiliar figure to Hotaru, but she is given scant moments of pious wonder before an illuminated door appears, and her son steps through. Some strangled sob, or perhaps a mutilated, wounded adulation, crumples in her throat at the sight of him whole and glowing. It replaces the last image she had of him previously; bloodied, mutilated, still. The hand on Remi’s back fists desperately around the meager cloth there, and as he reaches for her she meets him midway with her free hand; but despite the image it paints, it’s to hold herself back. Give Enzo time to embrace his twin while she watches unblinking and greedy.
She doesn’t have to wait long until Enzo is enveloping them all into his arms, and her own arms rise like the most devout worshiper to receive him, tears meaningless rivers on her face. “Hi baby,” she croaks, as she has said every time she’s ever visited him, no matter how it makes him crinkle his nose and roll his eyes. And then, the first to say it - “I’m so sorry.” Her shoulders shake, the sound of the sobs that create it stifled only by the desire to not burden Enzo with her guilt. “We’ve missed you so much.” An expression of love instead of grief.
Mort is an unfamiliar figure to Hotaru, but she is given scant moments of pious wonder before an illuminated door appears, and her son steps through. Some strangled sob, or perhaps a mutilated, wounded adulation, crumples in her throat at the sight of him whole and glowing. It replaces the last image she had of him previously; bloodied, mutilated, still. The hand on Remi’s back fists desperately around the meager cloth there, and as he reaches for her she meets him midway with her free hand; but despite the image it paints, it’s to hold herself back. Give Enzo time to embrace his twin while she watches unblinking and greedy.
She doesn’t have to wait long until Enzo is enveloping them all into his arms, and her own arms rise like the most devout worshiper to receive him, tears meaningless rivers on her face. “Hi baby,” she croaks, as she has said every time she’s ever visited him, no matter how it makes him crinkle his nose and roll his eyes. And then, the first to say it - “I’m so sorry.” Her shoulders shake, the sound of the sobs that create it stifled only by the desire to not burden Enzo with her guilt. “We’ve missed you so much.” An expression of love instead of grief.
and you're melting - all over everything
