Hotaru
She shuffles into bed that night tired and sore, and only the presence of her exhaustion shepherds her into the realm of sleep, discomfort pitiful when measured against it.
She sleeps. She dreams.
She wakes.
The sun is bright and welcoming, but it doesn’t burn her eyes. Soft sand and wind through whistling grass welcome her, and any disorientation melts away beneath the warmth of the beautiful dream she has been ushered into. Dulcet masculine tones draw her attention from the kaleidoscope of colors that live within the ocean’s waves, and the wind tugs playfully at her golden hair in futile attempt to steer her focus elsewhere.
Weathered boards creak beneath her bare feet as she enters, heralding her entrance. Remi’s back is to her, but the relaxed slope of his shoulders is nice to see. Tilting sideways into the doorframe, shoulder resting against sun-warmed wood, Hotaru rests her arms atop her belly and smiles as she listens to Remi sing. The dilapidated space does little to dissuade her, and Hotaru watches Remi instead of altering the landscape.
“Is that one of your mothers songs?” The Valkyrie’s voice is soft, reluctant to interrupt but unwilling to remain silent much longer. For all they are merely friends, extenuating circumstances aside, she has missed him.
She sleeps. She dreams.
She wakes.
The sun is bright and welcoming, but it doesn’t burn her eyes. Soft sand and wind through whistling grass welcome her, and any disorientation melts away beneath the warmth of the beautiful dream she has been ushered into. Dulcet masculine tones draw her attention from the kaleidoscope of colors that live within the ocean’s waves, and the wind tugs playfully at her golden hair in futile attempt to steer her focus elsewhere.
Weathered boards creak beneath her bare feet as she enters, heralding her entrance. Remi’s back is to her, but the relaxed slope of his shoulders is nice to see. Tilting sideways into the doorframe, shoulder resting against sun-warmed wood, Hotaru rests her arms atop her belly and smiles as she listens to Remi sing. The dilapidated space does little to dissuade her, and Hotaru watches Remi instead of altering the landscape.
“Is that one of your mothers songs?” The Valkyrie’s voice is soft, reluctant to interrupt but unwilling to remain silent much longer. For all they are merely friends, extenuating circumstances aside, she has missed him.
will you stay with me tonight?
you could be my cure
you could be my cure
