Hotaru
My head's a burial ground of your memory
Flight does not come naturally to her, but open skies and a determination that burns like coals in her throat, scorching every breath, is enough to transcend novice capabilities. She flies till the morning has come, Halo far behind her.Hotaru knows she could stop, bed down, try to sleep - all in the hopes that her last words to Remi had made it through to him. But she can’t even fathom sleeping now. Not when she doesn’t know what became of Noah and Deimos, or the citizens huddled in the barracks. Had they heard their warnings through the Attuned link? Was the dragon still destroying what it could of Halo? Had blood touched those snowy corridors because she had fled?
The winds that had tossed her against the mountains however couldn’t care less about the plans and emotions that fight for space in her mind. There is only the burden of injury and pregnancy. As such by time the sun is high and scorching, Hotaru is too exhausted to continue much of anything. Even her thoughts seem weighted.
The golden hawk lands in the sand, wings scattering granules haphazardly as she impacts roughly upon it, talons scratching scars. Then in a moment she is a woman again, to deter any predators with her larger form. Each breath heaves with exertion, skin already damp with sweat. Her body aches, bloodied feathers becoming lacerated skin. Her belly twinges, and one hand clutches at it, the grit of sand digging into her palm not dissuading her from feeling for the movement inside. The following exhale shakes pathetically.
There is little shelter, but what she’d found from overhead is enough shade to get her into the realm of sleep. Pulled under by blackness that resolves into the sands of Torchline once more. The same place she’d last seen. Hotaru runs, barefoot and weightless in this dream, and though she is uninjured here there is a wildness to her face that speaks of urgency as she crosses the threshold. “Remi?” She goes to him, and with a thought the landscape changes to as close a replica her sharp mind can manage, frozen in time. Sunjata - or who she thought it was - in dragon form, Morgan and Nate astride. The toppling tower. “They brought a fucking dragon to Halo in the night. Noah thought Neron was there as well, but I didn’t see anyone else - but an Ascended can take Attuned forms through the bite, so this may have been exactly what we feared. Morgan preached neutrality as she arrived, but she just took Halo with Ascended force.” Nostrils flaring with controlled rage, the Valkyrie’s cheek feathers with the clench of her teeth. This is information Remi needs to know both as a leader of the Greatwood and as Ludo’s demigod. “I don’t know what became of Noah or Deimos but I made it as far as Hak Etme.” A land whose name she’d learned from Wessex, and though the woman’s presence there is something she is unaware of, the memory still twinges painfully. Below her feet the snow bleeds into sand.
“We told the people to flee to the Greatwood if they could.” If they wanted. The whole thing is a mess, but she is too practical to focus on herself first - news of the invasion and the pending influx of displaced souls in the Greatwood came first. She may not be Warden already, but it wouldn’t stop her from protecting what she considers hers. There will be time to tell him of her injuries, of the cramping. But getting the word out is most important.
