the precipice of all we know

HOTARU

She's in a long black coat tonight
Waiting for me in the downpour outside

She stays, but only because she knows the hours are ticking down. If they try to hold her here for too long, things are going to get ugly and she knows it. Deimos’ paranoia, Morgan’s defensiveness, it doesn’t matter. But they want to play this biased game, hotheaded feedback loops and all, so Hotaru will bite her tongue and fall in line.

For now.

The cell isn’t comfortable, especially for a pregnant woman, but at least it has the basic necessities. It’s too similar to true confinement instead of detainment, but that’s a frustration chased away by snippets of sleep on the cot. Anything to pass the time until she is free to leave once more.

Back to the door, she curls around her belly, elbows protectively embracing the round edges as she hums softly to it under her breath.

singing "Baby come home" in a melody of tears
While the rhythm of the rain keeps time

- NATE -

Got my own monster
Nobody but me

Nate has had time to put a few things together. To put himself together, in bits and pieces.

Hotaru will hear him long before she sees him, steady footsteps approaching her cell, the sound bouncing off the walls until Nate comes into view, a chair in his hand and a clipboard tucked under his arm.

Not a word leaves his lips as he sets the chair down. Not as he settles himself into it, crossing his legs so he can set the clipboard down on his lap, give it one last look for posterity. All of Jack’s memories are written down, in his own hand, a rough scrawled timeline, complete with notes from other witnesses.

Licking his lips, Nate heaves out a heavy sigh, and looks at Hotaru. Despite everything, there is a thin smile on his face, though his gaze is utterly blank. “Lets start from the beginning, eh? From the second you and Deimos came to Torchline.” His tone is an affectation, polite words dragged hard by the edges of his accent, just a few too many odd his own experiences on her side of this colouring his words.

I would never call him enemy
He's the bad god I need

HOTARU

She's in a long black coat tonight
Waiting for me in the downpour outside

Her spine tightens at the sound of his approaching steps. Whose she isn’t sure, she won’t turn to look. Not as the door opens, nor as a chair is pulled. Only when an accented voice calls out to her does she unfurl, shoulders still hunched protectively as she slowly turns to sit cross legged on the bed to regard him silently.

His smile is a mockery of the roguish joy she remembers, but she’s sure her own face is drawn and unmoving. “We hunted Hels on the beach first,” she starts, voice distant. “I met Kamaria alone in the markets.” A flicker in her eyes, pain perhaps, or something else. It’s there and gone too soon. “Then we went to the bar. Got drunk - or I did at least.” Deimos always held his liquor better than she did, size and infrequency of indulgence both playing against her. “I told him about the Advocates. We went out onto the beach, and I was upset so we let our magic out on the ocean.” There’s a stiffness here, a brushing over of emotions lest they dissolve into another screaming match. “He told me to go back to the Inn, but as I was heading there I realized he wouldn’t have left me to walk home alone. So I ran to the Slagveld.” Sighing, she pulls her hair to rest over one shoulder, and idly fingers the ends.

“There was no fire yet. No sign of it. But I couldn’t be certain, so I ordered everyone out. I knew he wouldn’t reveal himself with others around, but I also knew he wouldn’t want to hurt innocents. It was all I could think to do to try and get him to show himself to me.” Precisely why she had been so tight lipped about his invisibility, and even than hadn’t clarified if it was magic or an item that allowed it. “As they left, I told Atlas to guard the door. I didn’t want anybody coming back in and getting hurt, and I just had a bad feeling.” The grief is something she can’t conceal, for all her other emotions are confined below the surface. “When he wasn’t on the ground floor I ran upstairs - and that’s where I found him. And the fire. His magic is so powerful, it doesn’t take more than a moment, and it spread so fast.” Mere moments, mighty and unstoppable.

“I barely even had a chance to try and talk to him. Then outside, someone cut Atlas’ throat.” Her voice comes out in a croak, eyelids flickering as she tries to fight back tears. “It…it fucked me up. Deimos had to try and guide me, he didn’t know what was wrong. And by the time I could talk, the stairs were already full of smoke, so he dragged us into the side bedroom.” Inhaling a ragged breath, Hotaru presses the heels of her palms to her eyes to try and press the tears back in. “And then someone else stabbed him, and he healed himself, and I kept telling him to run, because he was just trying to help and then -” she breaks apart with a hiccup, nails clawing at her temples as she shakes and tries to grapple herself into some semblance of control. “A woman set fire to him. And killed him.”

Hands still over her eyes she shudders an exhale. “I jumped out the window. I was…senseless. I attacked the woman with my lightning. I tried to kill her - and justly so, in my eyes. But she got away.” Rubbing her face, she turns bloodshot eyes to Nate, hollowed out and hurt. “And that’s it. I didn’t see Deimos again until we met at Apopo, for a different excursion we had planned.” She hadn’t slept at all that night. Wandering Torchline’s beaches, coming to terms with her loss.

singing "Baby come home" in a melody of tears
While the rhythm of the rain keeps time

- NATE -

Got my own monster
Nobody but me

It should hurt to see Hotaru again so soon, but without Sunjata there, all Nate feels is a twinge in the jagged place where something was ripped out of him, where trust once lay. His thumbnail worries at the corner of his clipboard, creating a soundtrack of soft scratching, even before his pencil moves, capturing details of Hotaru’s words.

All the way through her words, Nate’s stare doesn’t waver. His mouth moves, shifting and tightening in response to specific things mentioned by Hotaru, though he holds his tongue the whole was through. His grin slips away entirely as she speaks of Atlas, returning as she moves on, albeit a touch sharper than it was before.

For a long moment, all there is is the soft scratching of pencil on paper, Nate’s gaze still not leaving Hotaru, not until he finishes and glances down, double checking that he has everything down. “So...” He breathes softly, gathering himself. “Thats it then, huh? That’s everything?” A blue eye moves over her face, searching for something that would make this make sense to him. “Theres nothing else you want to add to your statement?”

I would never call him enemy
He's the bad god I need