I could've been somebody by now

The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display

These tunnels are unfamiliar to her, and yet she stands at their entrance alone. Even Atlas has disappeared into the distant undergrowth to give her the illusion of privacy, ready to secret her away only once this is all over. Standing barefoot in the gritty sand that leads into the tunnels, Hotaru's arms wrap around her own body as she stares sightlessly into their depths. A solitary, diminutive figure on the horizon. The sun is hidden behind a grey cast of clouds, wind pulling at her golden hair and tickling it against her cheeks like a playful sprite.

'Rae's Fingers. Find me.'

All she had left for Sunjata to find before departing. She hasn't been here long, but Hotaru is willing to wait as long as she needs.

Deimos' words rumble in her head like thunder roiling in the pressurized clouds akin to those overhead. They are not intimidating. She is a storm girl, and his voice is as close to the songs her blood sang as a human could hope to meet. Perhaps she should have sought out Nate first, but she knows her heart is weak, and that if she does not do this first that Nate has the potential to draw her back in. To eek out promises she will keep, even at her own detriment.

The wind picks up, smelling of petrichor that promises new rain. Hotaru's eyes move to the sky. She is a storm girl. Too long has she been tied, docile and willing to be tamed. It was her own mistake to think she had found someone who was willing to dance in the tempest at her side.

This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides

SUNJATA

the flood

i can't believe that you could just say
that "the answers unlock this gate"

The note is left, and between everything else – his daughter’s arrival and the long talks with Nate, Sunjata manages to go. He makes it there quickly on the wings of his macaw, sure that Hotaru doesn’t want to draw any attention.

He thinks he knows what this is about, too, though it doesn’t prepare him any.

The Flood flits into the Fingers, finding her quickly and shifting into himself, boots planting in the sand with a hard thump as all the exhaustion weighs heavily on him, and Sunjata steps back to give her space – unsure if he’ll hurt her too should he draw too near, get too close.

He works his jaw, finally letting his exhausted, shadowed gaze lift to her face, to bi-toned eyes as he watches her for a quiet moment. “…You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Is what he manages to say, poorly done and poorly said, but there’s the shift in his shoulders, in the tightness of his chest that seems to  scream that he understands. That he would too, given the chance.

'cause if you knew his name, not a thing would change
you'd still be wishing you were blessed

The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display

Atlas is not there to be her extra eyes, and yet she finds that for once she does not need him. Perhaps it's her connection to him, or the way her shields have come back anew in the wake of her decision, but Hotaru knows immediately when Sunjata arrives. The sound of his feet hitting the sand turns her head, golden hair a halo around her in contrast to the drawn face it curls around as she meets his eyes.

He looks terrible. The pain in her heart at seeing him hurt is there regardless of her desires to cauterize it, but it's not so crippling as to sway her.

The quiet question is heavy with burden. Hotaru does not share it as she meets his gaze, calm if perhaps tired. Resigned. "Yes," she replies, voice soft but not to be mistaken as gentle. Her arms tighten around her slim form, and she spins to fully face him, considering her words anew. "I don't have Nate's ability to forgive. I thought I could. I intended to stay, but..." there is a throb of fresh agony that steals her words and breath alike, and she holds the air in her lungs until it subsides in the next few heartbeats. "She is already aged, Sunjata. Even if I could justify being the middle ground, refusing to partake in the war...I can't look at her every day and know that I will never have the chance to be her mother." An entirely selfish reason, but Hotaru doesn't care. Perhaps it's time she's finally selfish.

Moving a little closer, her hand comes up as if to cup his face, but she hesitates and wraps the arm back around herself before her palm can touch the stubble of his cheek. "You have her. You have Nate. I have...I've never been able to compete with what the two of you have." The dark miasma of her anxieties and her own awareness of her inadequacies darkens her bi-toned gaze. "I was okay being your second choice. But I can't handle being the fourth." Behind Safrin, and the daughter she had given him.

Despite telling herself it wouldn't happen, her eyes glaze with tears that at least have the decency not to gather upon her lashes or spill over. "You'll move on. Just as you did when I was sick." A hoarse, cruel kind of laugh trickles over her lips. The clouds overhead rumble ominously. "After all, it's not like I'm your wife."

This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides

SUNJATA

the flood

i can't believe that you could just say
that "the answers unlock this gate"

”Yes.” She says, and he understands. He gets it. Even if it hurts – but this whole thing had hurt. It had plagued and pained him to have done this to them when they had been the only ones at his side. When she had been the one when Nate was missing to try and keep him safe. And all he can do is swallow hard, his chin dipping in a small nod, giving her the room she needs to speak, without interruption. He needs to do that much. “I know.” He admits quietly, softly, like a breath of wind that passes through the Fingers.

Hotaru moves closer and his gaze wavers, it remains trained on her though his lashes flutter slightly with the shudder that passes through them. “I understand.” He says quietly, but doesn’t move away, fighting against his better judgement and lifts his hand to reach up, to debate between pushing back that piece of rogue blonde hair that blows about in the stormy air that breezes through. “I never meant for this to happen, Hotaru. I never wanted to hurt you.” He picks his words carefully. He knows he hurt her. He hadn’t meant it, but he accepts that he has.

Her comment of being his wife has him swallowing hard again, slipping away from his hesitation, to reach out to push that piece of hair back. “You were in all the ways that mattered.” He offers her gently, lips twisting in a frown that tugs at the scar spanning his face. “You’ve always deserved everything you could get your hands on. You’ve always deserved more than me.” And maybe that’s why he and Nate had bonded so well, had gotten to this point. Because they were so similar in all the ways that Hotaru was better than them. And Sunjata specifically had gone and done a roundabout way of hurting her just as her past lovers had.

Still, it cracks his façade, in the glassiness in his gaze too as he withdraws, takes a slow and deep inhale. “I don’t want you to forgive me or anything. I just… I need you to know and understand how sorry I am for this. For all of it – with my father and Nate and this… I truly am so sorry.”

'cause if you knew his name, not a thing would change
you'd still be wishing you were blessed

The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display

In a way, it's healing to see her answer hurt him. To know that, for all her anxieties and doubt, her decision to leave is enough to cause him pain. To know that despite his mistakes amounting to too much for her to take, he loved her. Perhaps always will, as she knows she will. His understanding in some ways makes it easier. There is no attempt to keep her, to sway her. This is the last gift he could give her, and her appreciation shines in her eyes past the glimmer of emotion. To be let go from gentle hands that do not grasp and beg, claw and claim, is the only thing she can ask in the wake of all this pain

"You've never set out with the intention to hurt me," she points out gently, the echo of the waves in the tunnels not enough to drown her voice even with how softly it leaves her lips. "That means something. And I can't regret us, even though you've hurt me." The last shackle falls free as Hotaru says it. You've hurt me. Finally owning her own pain in a way neither can avoid, and not letting it pass over her this time.

Despite herself, her head tilts toward his hand as it tucks hair away from her face. A weak, human part of her wanting one more touch, one more expression of love. His hands have brought her so much joy and safety, and for a moment she thinks maybe they can magically do it once more and fix all this with a gentle touch. But life is no fairytale, and his physicality cannot erase the new boundaries she has been forced to make. His assurances cause her to shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in his scent as the budding storm threatens to wash it away in a downpour of rain. "For all I know you are a good man, far better than your own mind tells you, you're right. I do deserve better." Her eyes open, certain and sad as they meet his. Whether she will find it is another question. Will his ghost haunt her as all the others have? Will she regret this, even knowing she deserves better? Settling is an ache of desire in her bones, but pain has never broken Hotaru's will before.

His apology is borne with a quiet sort of stalwart nature, and though he retreats she steps forward to gently hook the tips of his fingers with her own. "I know. I wish I were a better woman, to try and forgive you, to make this work. But I'm not. For that, I'm sorry too." Her own view of herself in contrast to how he thinks she is better than she is, just as he believes he is a worse man than she sees him. It is sad and ironic and painful in all the worst ways. "Even without my forgiveness, Sunjata, you will always have my love." Her throat burns, and before the tears can fall she leans up to kiss the corner of his mouth. A chaste mockery of that which she can't afford to give herself, not if she intends to walk away. She pulls away, and forces her hand to drop his. Her fingertips are cold without his to hold. "I will come if you need me. But that is all I can be for you now." Otherwise she knows she will be too tempted to come back, to forgive that which she knows she cannot afford to. Hotaru bites down on the words that try to follow, the hopeful 'maybe when all this is over'. She cannot make either of them wait, hoping, for that which may never come. This has to be the end.

This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides

SUNJATA

the flood

i can't believe that you could just say
that "the answers unlock this gate"

It does mean something, despite the fact Sunjata finds it hard to relish in it. How could he? Because he knows he’s hurt her and he knows that there’s nothing he could ever do to fix what he’s done. And he knows that he doesn’t want to. Because as he’d said, she deserved the world and the last thing he needed, the last thing he wanted to do was trap her in a space where she couldn’t be wholly hers, where she’d be a bird trapped in a web spun around her to keep her rooted to him for something so complex as love.

All he can do is nod, that he understands that he’s hurt her. He understands that there’s no forgiveness there. That he understands what he did was wrong. But her head tilts into his hand ever so slightly when he tucks that piece of hair away, withdrawing when he thinks he might overstep – but he’s so touch starved that he stills the second she hooks her fingers with his. “I don’t blame you. I never could.” He assures her.

Perhaps they’re both not good when it comes down to it. But they had tried. And as far as Sunjata can tell, this is perhaps the best parting he’s ever had. No screaming fits, no anger. Understanding lined with sorrow, with his shame, with her own walls built back up that he’d caused.  “You will always have mine, too, Hotaru.” He assures her, letting her go as she moves to pull away. But he finds himself being unable to stay against the wall, away from her. He has one more thing he has to do.

He has to.

“If you ever need me, too, I will be there.” As easy of a parting agreement they can make. It’s as good as he can get, it’s better than what he deserves. So he closes the distance, pausing before he’s able to envelope her. “Can I hug you? Just one last time?” He tries to keep the warble from his voice with it, tries to put on that understanding tone, that ease to his shoulders – but he’s tense. It’s something he wants yet doesn’t deserve, and he makes no move to do it unless she gives the okay.

It’s the only thing he can do.

And if she doesn't want to? He'll understand that too.

'cause if you knew his name, not a thing would change
you'd still be wishing you were blessed

The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display

He frees her from any blame, and though she does not think she is entirely free of it - her lack of ability to forgive, at least, sticks out - it is a weight off her shoulders. She regrets all the same that while she is being set free into the skies with only loneliness and heartbreak as the burdens she must bear, she leaves him with far more pressing down on his shoulders in comparison. Even now she doesn't want to see him so beaten down. Hates that her own decision adds to that pain. Still, this is a necessary evil if either of them are to move on in ways that are healthy.

At least she will carry with her the love that he has given her, that he promises she will always have. An assurance of aid, of protection, is more than she had expected from them when she'd left the note as his side that morning. They've both changed for the better; it breaks Hotaru's heart to know it was because of each other. Sunjata moves closer, and the warble in his voice is met with the tremble of her lips as she nods, voice struck to nothing in the wake of the lump that rises in her throat. Calling it 'the last time' feels like a searing brand pressed to the inside of her ribs. She prays it won't be the last, even if the following touches will have to be platonic. Maybe the idea won't hurt so bad in a few seasons. Years, maybe. Hotaru hopes it will stop hurting eventually if nothing else.

She moves first, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing herself flush. Nothing held back or restrained even with their threads cut and singed between them. This is her last chance, and she will hold this memory bittersweet and close when she wakes with wet eyes and cold sheets at her side many times in the future. Hotaru stays there for as long as they both need, until the rumbling overhead finally breaks into a downfall of rain. Even then she remains, until her golden hair is slick against her cheeks, and the rain hides the few warm tears that escape. "Goodbye," she whispers as she reluctantly pulls back.

Hotaru turns away from the warmth of his arms, and she does not let herself look back as she crosses the sand, leaving Sunjata behind.

- FIN

This is the night that young love died
Buried at each others sides