Hotaru
My head's a burial ground of your memory
His hands, more solid than anything they can create here, at warm and strong beneath her own as they reach to pull her in. It is an anchor that holds her to the earth, even as it shifts and changes from wooden boards to snow to sand. Is this habit, now? Will he always be there when times seem most tumultuous for her? Selfishly, Hotaru hopes so, if only because his mere presence seems to slow the adrenaline in her veins. “I don’t know whether to hope it is him, or it isn’t.” Grim and pale, her lips thin. One is obviously a better answer for all of Halo and Caido, but the other would hurt in a far more personal way. His hands leave hers for a moment and she is bereft, lost in a sea blanketed by dark skies that steal all sense of direction. Until they return, cupping her face, and the blackness is broken by the green of his eyes. Her hands shake, golden lashes blinking a little too fast, too frequently, but hiding her overwhelm would mean looking away from Remi’s eyes, and that’s a sacrifice she isn’t willing to make.
With the rest of the world drowned out as he holds her, it’s easier to let her mind narrow in kind. The words, from there, seem to be pulled from her like string wrapped around his finger. “I wasn’t followed. But the wind at the base of the mountains was too rough for me to fly, so I’m a little injured.” A wry grin distracts from the wetness of her eyes. “Told you I needed lessons.” Breath trembles as it enters her lungs, ashamed of her emotions, even heightened as they are by her pregnancy. “If the cramps are contractions…they might come early. I’m scared.” A tear slips stubbornly past her lashes, collecting in the small space where Remi’s skin presses against her cheek. What if she failed after all, like the spirit said she would? What if she lost this last precious chance?
