HOTARU
There is a kinship between them deeper than any surface attraction or manipulative tendencies they may have had. A banked fire that keeps fueling every movement, even when encroaching chill and devastation threaten every flickering beat of their hearts. A stubbornness that keeps them living when there is seemingly no reason to. And she knows he stands there, face to face with the void as it pours itself into him, striking light from his soul with greedy fingertips and a hunger that takes and takes and takes. She won't let it take him. She digs her nails into that light, that tremulous flame, and drags it to the surface. Buoys it high above the water where he drowns in his own flood, if only to give him enough time to spark anew. To fight again. Bathed in the warmth and dancing light of her fireplace, holding onto one another through the torrential river of memories they wade through, she sees him clearer than ever before. A frosted glass wiped clean. It enables her the energy and strength to smile, sincerely complimented by the comparison he draws between her and Lusea. "Quite the compliment, I'd say. I regret not being able to meet her." But her memories live on through Sunjata, and Hotaru basks in them as much as she can, reaching for the ghost of the girl that sits between them, a hand on each burdened shoulder. Tying them together with her lingering memory. Reopening her own wounds seems minor in comparison. When he reaches for her, she lets him pull her in, dragging her from the darkness and the monster that forever lingers within its depths. Chasing it away with the warmth of his skin, the pressure of his touch. Keeping her grounded and connected to the present. He doesn't speak, and for that she is grateful. There is nothing to say, no words to soothe the ache she will carry with her forever. His own confession is enough. A way to bridge the gap, an understanding that she clings to. "And yet we're both still here." Some days she is immeasurably grateful for that fact. Others...well, they've already spoken of that.
A wry smile twists her lips, weary, but she lifts her glass to touch against his. The sound is loud in her ears, but it lays to rest her past, back into the grave where it belongs. "To immortality." Though she wonders if that's what she would want for herself. Perhaps if her memories did not transfer, she would. But the idea of an end, a resting place, somewhere she can see her lost family again...it's definitely appealing. A difficult decision she is almost grateful to have taken from her hands. "I don't think you'll ever forget her voice saying that, I'm sure she repeated it often enough." Though many things fade with time, there are some that remain with striking clarity; Phaedra's opulent smile, Raeden's sincere laughter, Ru'in's quiet grunts. She carries them with her, cherishes their continued survival in her memory. Wipes free the dust whenever time tries to reclaim it.
There's a soft threat to his words, and she laughs softly, surprised to find herself shy beneath such fervor. "I fear for him if he does arrive here, truly. But I would certainly pass on the message." Deimos would have to find out first of course - the man likely has more than a few bones to pick himself. But knowing Sunjata is in her corner, there to chase away the demons more thoroughly than Thranduil ever had, eases an enormous weight from her shoulders that she had forgotten was even there. In the wake of such lightness, she even manages a smile. "I have to admit I didn't expect my night to end up this way, but...I'm glad you felt you could come here." An unspoken message that he will always be welcome if he so chooses to seek her out again.
I am a breathtaking mosaic
of all the battles I've won
of all the battles I've won
