i wanted to be ruined —
a little more than i wanted
— to be loved
She breaks to reopen wounds and stitch them back up again, tears and sorrow and joy, wrapping around her and coiling like a spring. She is a dam about to break and she is so incredibly grateful for the guiding hand of her aunt that takes her to the couch, where she sits her down and sits beside her. And continues to touch, touch, touch, while Kiada bends and breaks further, over and over again. She tucks her in like a mother hen, beneath her wing where she should have been the entire time, smiling weakly, complimenting her, before the Harpy reaches up with the back of a hand to wipe away the tears that soak her pale, tired cheeks.
She doesn’t feel beautiful. She doesn’t feel strong. But she believes her anyway, because it’s Hotaru, and the Valkyrie would never lie to her. She knows it as much as she knows her own reflection, of the flame in her soul that devours and burns and leaves ashes in their wake. And the Valkyrie takes her head in her hands, observing, watching, commenting, telling her that she’s not alone. That Hotaru could have been the mother she deserved – and had Ru’in still lived, Hotaru would have been even more so.
It scrunches her face up again as Hotaru wiggles her chin just enough, a memory, a feeling, a barb to the heart of love and joy and innocence. But Kiada had never been innocent, she knows this. And she also knows that Kisamoa, Kaos, who had killed and murdered, had destroyed and taken, had been the one she vowed herself to. Had rescued. Had saved. And suffered for it. She wonders if the tone will change when Hotaru learns of this too, like Melita had.
She can’t bear to see the hatred in her bi-toned eyes.
But she cuts off the thoughts, instead replacing them with something else; perhaps darker, perhaps sadder, perhaps the two of them can break and emerge anew. “Yes.” She chokes, before she flings herself into Hotaru’s arms, every inch the child she had been once before – not the battle hardened warrior she had been molded to be. Her hand rests on Hotaru’s arm, her left hand with a ring made of bronze and foxes, and she wonders if Hotaru will notice.
She wonders if Hotaru will see the craftsmanship of her son’s work. And see what it means. But as much as she has tried to push the feeling away, of keeping the secret, she can’t – and she breaks and unleashes herself in the clutches of her aunt, shaking and trembling, sorrow and so much pain. “I was going to marry him, Ru.” She manages to gasp, perhaps hysterically, perhaps broken beyond repair. “He was back and we were going to be happy, and things were going to be exactly how they should have been. And I lost him again.”
She doesn’t feel beautiful. She doesn’t feel strong. But she believes her anyway, because it’s Hotaru, and the Valkyrie would never lie to her. She knows it as much as she knows her own reflection, of the flame in her soul that devours and burns and leaves ashes in their wake. And the Valkyrie takes her head in her hands, observing, watching, commenting, telling her that she’s not alone. That Hotaru could have been the mother she deserved – and had Ru’in still lived, Hotaru would have been even more so.
It scrunches her face up again as Hotaru wiggles her chin just enough, a memory, a feeling, a barb to the heart of love and joy and innocence. But Kiada had never been innocent, she knows this. And she also knows that Kisamoa, Kaos, who had killed and murdered, had destroyed and taken, had been the one she vowed herself to. Had rescued. Had saved. And suffered for it. She wonders if the tone will change when Hotaru learns of this too, like Melita had.
She can’t bear to see the hatred in her bi-toned eyes.
But she cuts off the thoughts, instead replacing them with something else; perhaps darker, perhaps sadder, perhaps the two of them can break and emerge anew. “Yes.” She chokes, before she flings herself into Hotaru’s arms, every inch the child she had been once before – not the battle hardened warrior she had been molded to be. Her hand rests on Hotaru’s arm, her left hand with a ring made of bronze and foxes, and she wonders if Hotaru will notice.
She wonders if Hotaru will see the craftsmanship of her son’s work. And see what it means. But as much as she has tried to push the feeling away, of keeping the secret, she can’t – and she breaks and unleashes herself in the clutches of her aunt, shaking and trembling, sorrow and so much pain. “I was going to marry him, Ru.” She manages to gasp, perhaps hysterically, perhaps broken beyond repair. “He was back and we were going to be happy, and things were going to be exactly how they should have been. And I lost him again.”
KIADA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
