HOTARU
“You can’t promise that,” she says gently, knowing his heart is in the right place. His optimism is a beacon of light, but one she can only watch from afar, unable to bathe herself within it in turn. Staring down at her distorted reflection in the water, Hotaru remembers those last moments in Helovia as hundreds blinked out of existence and more were lost to the portals. The Voice reminds her too keenly of Kisamoa, the false god that had perpetrated it. And is history not a wheel? Doomed to cycle and repeat? Loss is a gaping hole that is as much a part of her as her soul. It may not be now, it may not even be Kiada, but it’s an inevitability all the same.
It might even be him.
It might even be now.
His vitriol is not unwarranted, but she weathers it gracefully. Accepting blame where it is due, anger where it is fairly rooted. “You needed me, but I needed to be away. I couldn’t stay the way you did the moment I saw her face.” She can’t even bear to say the child’s name. She’d taken one look through the window upon her arrival and slipped over the balcony with her few possessions. A runaway, a thief, slipping out the back and away from what had never had the chance to become home. Lifting her watery gaze, Hotaru is proud that her lips don’t tremble, her voice doesn’t break. This she won’t ask forgiveness for. “I am sorry I hurt you. But I’m not sorry I left. For me, it would have shattered what little of me there was left. I don’t begrudge you your ability to remain there, to meet her, to try -” even if she longs to. Gods, she wants to hate him for it. For not being able to feel the agony she feels over that intimate betrayal. But he is no woman, no mother, and certainly not a mother who has lost every child she has reared. Hotaru can’t hold it against him that he can’t empathize with her pain. “- but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t.” Any notions of reconciliation - and she’d had them, damn her for her weakness and devotion to Sunjata - had evaporated the second she’d seen Kamaria’s face. Her unexpected age.
His anger at her apology spurs a wry, tired smile. “Then don’t accept it. I am not owed your forgiveness, my love. Neither is Sunjata. And I won’t ask for what you aren’t willing to give.” As much as she would like it, she’s not so naive as to pretend it is a guarantee. “I can bear your anger, it’s a burden I’m not unwilling to carry. So stop forgiving.” Hotaru would rather see him spared the pain, even if it means he doesn’t forgive her either. His boundaries are worth defending.
It might even be him.
It might even be now.
His vitriol is not unwarranted, but she weathers it gracefully. Accepting blame where it is due, anger where it is fairly rooted. “You needed me, but I needed to be away. I couldn’t stay the way you did the moment I saw her face.” She can’t even bear to say the child’s name. She’d taken one look through the window upon her arrival and slipped over the balcony with her few possessions. A runaway, a thief, slipping out the back and away from what had never had the chance to become home. Lifting her watery gaze, Hotaru is proud that her lips don’t tremble, her voice doesn’t break. This she won’t ask forgiveness for. “I am sorry I hurt you. But I’m not sorry I left. For me, it would have shattered what little of me there was left. I don’t begrudge you your ability to remain there, to meet her, to try -” even if she longs to. Gods, she wants to hate him for it. For not being able to feel the agony she feels over that intimate betrayal. But he is no woman, no mother, and certainly not a mother who has lost every child she has reared. Hotaru can’t hold it against him that he can’t empathize with her pain. “- but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t.” Any notions of reconciliation - and she’d had them, damn her for her weakness and devotion to Sunjata - had evaporated the second she’d seen Kamaria’s face. Her unexpected age.
His anger at her apology spurs a wry, tired smile. “Then don’t accept it. I am not owed your forgiveness, my love. Neither is Sunjata. And I won’t ask for what you aren’t willing to give.” As much as she would like it, she’s not so naive as to pretend it is a guarantee. “I can bear your anger, it’s a burden I’m not unwilling to carry. So stop forgiving.” Hotaru would rather see him spared the pain, even if it means he doesn’t forgive her either. His boundaries are worth defending.
Pull you in, but don't you get too close
Love you now, but not tomorrow
Love you now, but not tomorrow
