maybe who we were then is shattered, but who we are in the end is what matters
The glare of the sun against the crystalline whiteness around them is the only resemblance to Torchline, heat still a notion beyond Halo's capabilities. It does not dissuade the pair of them as they walk, more accustomed to cold air against pink cheeks and the creak of ice floes in the distance than sun-rose skin and the cries of gulls. She feels less empty and numb with him at her side, a presence to fill the void, to pretend Atlas is simply too far to feel instead of gone forever from this world and her soul.
"She is not the type to listen past that which she desires to hear," Hotaru agrees quietly, their eyes on the horizon as the snow crunches beneath their boots. She'd not had much optimism for the situation, but she could not stop Deimos from trying - from confessing, as was his way when it came to taking responsibility for his choices. Though he'd refused to place the blame on her shoulders, Hotaru feels it all the same. There is so much she wishes she could have changed, if only to spare Deimos. Her own comeuppance is meaningless.
Zuriel's touch strikes the breath from her lungs at the familiarity. The unicorn is scarcely the touchy type, and Hotaru turns to press her cheek against the unicorn's soft muzzle, eyes drifting closed for a moment to drink it in. Knowing that the companion knows Hotaru well enough to surmise the gratitude there, even if they do not share a bond between them. Only Deimos' muttered words bring her back to the surface, and were he in the mood she would reach for him. "She did not even care about the Kraai?" Or perhaps she insisted upon investigating it herself, if Hotaru gave her the benefit of the doubt. Somehow she doubts that would happen regardless of what the Warden had said. It was clear she had thrown her lot in with certain people, and that was simply that.
"She is not the type to listen past that which she desires to hear," Hotaru agrees quietly, their eyes on the horizon as the snow crunches beneath their boots. She'd not had much optimism for the situation, but she could not stop Deimos from trying - from confessing, as was his way when it came to taking responsibility for his choices. Though he'd refused to place the blame on her shoulders, Hotaru feels it all the same. There is so much she wishes she could have changed, if only to spare Deimos. Her own comeuppance is meaningless.
Zuriel's touch strikes the breath from her lungs at the familiarity. The unicorn is scarcely the touchy type, and Hotaru turns to press her cheek against the unicorn's soft muzzle, eyes drifting closed for a moment to drink it in. Knowing that the companion knows Hotaru well enough to surmise the gratitude there, even if they do not share a bond between them. Only Deimos' muttered words bring her back to the surface, and were he in the mood she would reach for him. "She did not even care about the Kraai?" Or perhaps she insisted upon investigating it herself, if Hotaru gave her the benefit of the doubt. Somehow she doubts that would happen regardless of what the Warden had said. It was clear she had thrown her lot in with certain people, and that was simply that.
