You won't go lonely into this fight, if you just hold me we will survive
If there are stormclouds in her head, she is in good company. Hotaru’s hand never wavers from the Wraith’s, and despite the concern on the horizon their steps are measured in time. There is only support and the promise for honesty to be found here, and the lightning girl has never shied from storms.
What she is asked is unexpected. The words sound like a title given to the woman that Hotaru has never heard, or perhaps venom repeated from another’s lips. There’s little time for rumination on the vitriol of the honorific itself as Wessex expounds on the question, the cracks in her facade breaking open before Hotaru’s eyes. They feel echoed on Hotaru’s heart which aches for the uncharacteristic doubt her friend displays. When Wessex’s gaze turns down towards her, Hotaru pulls on their connected hands to make the demigod pause, and lifts her free hand to reach for Wessex’s face without hesitation. Seeking to cup the cool skin her palm finds, and gently force the woman to look into her eyes. The words come easier than any ever have, as sure of her response as she is of the rhythm of her own heart.
“Becoming The Voice’s demigod did not change who you are intrinsically Wessex. You are not just a creation or a cog in a god’s machine. You are simply you, as you were long before you Ascended, and as you always will be. You could not be the monster she unleashed, because you were never leashed in the first place.” Wessex had not been planned, had been like any other who sought Ascension. She’d simply done more than anyone else, and as such had turned into a figurehead - a position she’d never asked for. Hotaru’s thumb strokes against the woman’s nerveless cheek, even if the Wraith cannot feel it. “Monsters do not fight for what they think is right. They don’t protect those they love, or tolerate those they dislike for the greater good.” As she had done with Amalia, with Deimos, with a variety of souls in various death defying journeys. “Monsters are not sacrificial, or kind, or patient. Your actions define you, and being forced to make hard choices - and sometimes making the wrong ones - do not a monster make.”
The hand still tangled with Wessex’s squeezes hard to ensure it is felt, her multicolored gaze fierce. “You are good Wessex. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.” Pulling her hand away, Hotaru’s smile turns slightly sad, and she forces down the desire to tell her that being a monster isn’t a bad thing sometimes. That she too has looked in the mirror sometimes and seen something dark reflected back. Her hands are coated in far more blood than Wessex’s - but perhaps that makes her the perfect judge for this question.
What she is asked is unexpected. The words sound like a title given to the woman that Hotaru has never heard, or perhaps venom repeated from another’s lips. There’s little time for rumination on the vitriol of the honorific itself as Wessex expounds on the question, the cracks in her facade breaking open before Hotaru’s eyes. They feel echoed on Hotaru’s heart which aches for the uncharacteristic doubt her friend displays. When Wessex’s gaze turns down towards her, Hotaru pulls on their connected hands to make the demigod pause, and lifts her free hand to reach for Wessex’s face without hesitation. Seeking to cup the cool skin her palm finds, and gently force the woman to look into her eyes. The words come easier than any ever have, as sure of her response as she is of the rhythm of her own heart.
“Becoming The Voice’s demigod did not change who you are intrinsically Wessex. You are not just a creation or a cog in a god’s machine. You are simply you, as you were long before you Ascended, and as you always will be. You could not be the monster she unleashed, because you were never leashed in the first place.” Wessex had not been planned, had been like any other who sought Ascension. She’d simply done more than anyone else, and as such had turned into a figurehead - a position she’d never asked for. Hotaru’s thumb strokes against the woman’s nerveless cheek, even if the Wraith cannot feel it. “Monsters do not fight for what they think is right. They don’t protect those they love, or tolerate those they dislike for the greater good.” As she had done with Amalia, with Deimos, with a variety of souls in various death defying journeys. “Monsters are not sacrificial, or kind, or patient. Your actions define you, and being forced to make hard choices - and sometimes making the wrong ones - do not a monster make.”
The hand still tangled with Wessex’s squeezes hard to ensure it is felt, her multicolored gaze fierce. “You are good Wessex. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.” Pulling her hand away, Hotaru’s smile turns slightly sad, and she forces down the desire to tell her that being a monster isn’t a bad thing sometimes. That she too has looked in the mirror sometimes and seen something dark reflected back. Her hands are coated in far more blood than Wessex’s - but perhaps that makes her the perfect judge for this question.
