I lend everyone my ear, but nobody my heart
and I sure would like to change that, but I don't know where to start
and I sure would like to change that, but I don't know where to start
Her answer is a quirked smile, cheeks pink and heterochromatic irises bright in the twilight. His company is no less appreciated for all the darkness of their conversation. She would feel worse were he more averse to the topics, but in a way it’s a relief to be assured that she is not the only one jaded and bitter, preparing for a war others would rather turn a blind eye to.
His voice is a shroud that covers her as she lays on the pallet, watching the gleam of the stars embedded in the void of their surroundings. “My mother hated the goddess that ruled the night skies. What was at first childish rebellion became reverence for me. Where I lived and ruled, colors would dance in the skies at night, like ribbons across the horizon; hard to ignore the stars even if you hated them with such a show.” Her eyes follow his finger as it points, drawing shapes she can only assume of the constellation he describes. It’s not surprising to hear the warrior had once been a real man, though Hotaru tilts her head and wonders quietly and vaguely to herself about it. “Such a permanent expression of devotion. From her, that is.” There is a slight awe to her tone, perhaps a wistfulness. “Do you know what he fought? Was it in the original war?” The only other one she knows as an Outlander.
His voice is a shroud that covers her as she lays on the pallet, watching the gleam of the stars embedded in the void of their surroundings. “My mother hated the goddess that ruled the night skies. What was at first childish rebellion became reverence for me. Where I lived and ruled, colors would dance in the skies at night, like ribbons across the horizon; hard to ignore the stars even if you hated them with such a show.” Her eyes follow his finger as it points, drawing shapes she can only assume of the constellation he describes. It’s not surprising to hear the warrior had once been a real man, though Hotaru tilts her head and wonders quietly and vaguely to herself about it. “Such a permanent expression of devotion. From her, that is.” There is a slight awe to her tone, perhaps a wistfulness. “Do you know what he fought? Was it in the original war?” The only other one she knows as an Outlander.
Hotaru
