Hotaru
I'm made of dead man's money, you can see it in my smile
There is no state of being Flora could ever occupy to be ugly in her mother's eyes, and when it's made clear she only wants to slump on Hotaru's shoulder, the Valkyrie reluctantly contents herself with the assurances the Doubletake has made as to her health and holds her close. "I'm here," she murmurs, because it's clear Flora is not okay, but what more can Ru do to fix that?
The dam breaks swiftly and suddenly, and Ru's arms tighten around Flora, one hand rising to smooth over her tousled hair in soothing strokes. "I know, my love. I know." Her heart tastes sour where it sits on her tongue. Halo's devastation moments before severing her ties to the region feels much the same in her chest - bitterly unfair. "But we will fix it. The reason you became queen - your ties, your influence - will ensure that aid pours in from every corner of Caido. You're not alone, Flora. You are never alone." Her insistence is as heavy as the meteor sitting in the ocean. Turning her cheek, she presses a kiss to Flora's temple. "This isn't your fault." Gods, please don't let her think that. And though she wants to carry her daughter straight to bed, she lingers there, the open doorway spilling a mockery of golden afternoon light across the floorboards and onto their feet, holding the crumbling pieces of her daughter in her arms.
The dam breaks swiftly and suddenly, and Ru's arms tighten around Flora, one hand rising to smooth over her tousled hair in soothing strokes. "I know, my love. I know." Her heart tastes sour where it sits on her tongue. Halo's devastation moments before severing her ties to the region feels much the same in her chest - bitterly unfair. "But we will fix it. The reason you became queen - your ties, your influence - will ensure that aid pours in from every corner of Caido. You're not alone, Flora. You are never alone." Her insistence is as heavy as the meteor sitting in the ocean. Turning her cheek, she presses a kiss to Flora's temple. "This isn't your fault." Gods, please don't let her think that. And though she wants to carry her daughter straight to bed, she lingers there, the open doorway spilling a mockery of golden afternoon light across the floorboards and onto their feet, holding the crumbling pieces of her daughter in her arms.
Watch the fire rise, burning through my paper skin
