The skies are black with lead-filled rain
a morbid painting on display
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."
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
Buried at each others sides
