softness has garnered me nothing but misery
Amusement decorates her face like gold leaf on parchment, the wry twist of her lips far too forgiving of his playful insolence. As if she would ever deny his matching mark on her skin. They are welcome to lay claim over every inch of her. If Hotaru were so inclined, she'd ink them both irrevocably the way Sunjata does. It looks far better on him of course, but the thought appeals to her at times in the dead of the night. If only she were not so cynical, so broken. Convinced - and rightfully so - that someday this land with all its cruelties will take them from her. And when that happens, Hotaru will - must - move on. As she has been forced to do so many times before. Love, therefore, is a daily choice of loyalty. Eventually, the day will come where the choice is taken from her hands. That is simply how the world works for her.
But those are thoughts too dark for moments like these, warm and illuminating and hastily snatched from the jaws of fate. Before she can think to answer him, the softness of his words and the way they press into her skin makes her close her eyes against the rush of emotion they summon. Holding him close around his shoulders, nothing more invigorating than that. "I missed you too," Hotaru says instead, because she is not a poetic woman. Does not have the eloquence or bravery to say things like every day that I lay apart from you, even with no knowledge or memory to know who it was I missed, I ached with a grief and longing that no knife or skillful hands could replicate.
But those are thoughts too dark for moments like these, warm and illuminating and hastily snatched from the jaws of fate. Before she can think to answer him, the softness of his words and the way they press into her skin makes her close her eyes against the rush of emotion they summon. Holding him close around his shoulders, nothing more invigorating than that. "I missed you too," Hotaru says instead, because she is not a poetic woman. Does not have the eloquence or bravery to say things like every day that I lay apart from you, even with no knowledge or memory to know who it was I missed, I ached with a grief and longing that no knife or skillful hands could replicate.
