Honey, these arms that once held you are ready to fight
Sleep should come easy, she thinks. If the world was fair, or operated on even the most basic of rules for physical entities, she would have found Morpheus' realm within moments of hitting the sheets. As if the world has ever been fair before. How she even ended up here is a muddled thing in her mind, but Nate is at her side, silent and stiff, and that had been...not enough, but something of great enough magnitude to help slow her rabbiting heart. Once more she is in their bed with only one of them, not both, and this does not feel like a victory for all that Shaju is dead and Nate returned. Still, exhaustion is prevalent. When was the last time she slept through the night? The evening before Remi and Ronin's visit, she thinks. She'd spent most nights after that sitting up in bed or by the fire, ears tuned for Sunjata's nightmares, determined to be there to awaken him before they worsened too far. Then, after Kiada, she'd not slept at all. Going from the Road to Aumakua and straight into the arms of the crowd that had gathered for the showdown.
Exhaustion pulls her down, but it's nothing like the deep ocean of true restful sleep. It's more like staring up through sunlit water, barely submerged, where the world is muted and slow but within arms reach. A teasing mockery of restfulness.
When Nate sits up and shuffles, panic kickstarts her brain, eyes flying open before she consciously considers it. Disoriented, her hand flies to wrap around his wrist, terror temporarily all she can feel as her pulse quickens and her breathing kicks up. "Nate?" comes out a little garbled and confused, as if calling out for him for reassurance without recognizing she has already grabbed him. She may be the only one to have escaped uninjured from this mess - something she hates herself for to the core - but she is not without trauma. For all she's reluctant to crowd him, the mere idea of him leaving for any reason sparks fear in her heart. Sitting up a little more, vision blurry but eyes stubbornly wide, Hotaru tries to get a look at his face to determine what's going on. "W's wrong? D'you need something?" Already trying to cast off the pitiful vestiges of sleep to prepare to do or retrieve whatever he needs. To try and make herself fucking useful for once.
Exhaustion pulls her down, but it's nothing like the deep ocean of true restful sleep. It's more like staring up through sunlit water, barely submerged, where the world is muted and slow but within arms reach. A teasing mockery of restfulness.
When Nate sits up and shuffles, panic kickstarts her brain, eyes flying open before she consciously considers it. Disoriented, her hand flies to wrap around his wrist, terror temporarily all she can feel as her pulse quickens and her breathing kicks up. "Nate?" comes out a little garbled and confused, as if calling out for him for reassurance without recognizing she has already grabbed him. She may be the only one to have escaped uninjured from this mess - something she hates herself for to the core - but she is not without trauma. For all she's reluctant to crowd him, the mere idea of him leaving for any reason sparks fear in her heart. Sitting up a little more, vision blurry but eyes stubbornly wide, Hotaru tries to get a look at his face to determine what's going on. "W's wrong? D'you need something?" Already trying to cast off the pitiful vestiges of sleep to prepare to do or retrieve whatever he needs. To try and make herself fucking useful for once.
HOTARU
