Hotaru
Without Atlas at her side to provide keen ears and attentive guard, she is taken by surprise when Phoebe emerges from the treeline. The sharp jolt of her shoulders does settle, but the tension there doesn’t entirely fade. Clearly both worn and wired.
Lifting her eyes to Phoebe’s warm honey, Hotaru gives a wan smile. It’s easier to look at the Nightingale and see the young woman who had visited her glass shop than it is to recall her as Sunjata’s ex-wife. It probably does them both more favors to do so anyway. “Hello Phoebe,” her voice rasps with disuse from the days spent in any form but the human one.
She isn’t sure whether she can stand even if she wanted to. Hotaru isn’t so weak from hunger or loss that it’s physically impossible, but it seems a Herculean task. Insurmountable. Instead she tilts her head invitingly to the spot at her side, cheek still perched on her knee. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I…I don’t know what to do.” Instead of crying, her gaze is distant and almost confused. Dreamlike. “When I first laid eyes on my twins I cried tears of joy. For all the complications of them being Remi’s, I loved them so much that it didn’t matter. I was…happy isn’t a word strong enough for what I felt. I know I felt it. I know I did.” Dismay creeps into her tone, almost hysterical. Scared.
“But over the next weeks I couldn’t feel that way anymore. I hated them. I imagined all of us dying together. What the hell is wrong with me?” Soft voice tremors and shakes, terrified of her own emotions but incapable of escaping them. Perhaps even scared of judgment from this woman she had always inevitably been pitted against in ways they never should have been. “I’ve never felt even something as minor as ill-will towards a child in my life. Certainly never my own. What is happening to me? Is it magic?” Desperate, she unfurls from her little ball and reaches a hand for Phoebe, snagging in her clothes like a scared child reaching for their mother’s skirts. Hererochromatic eyes are ringed by bloodshot vessels, and she looks very small and lost. “Please, I know it isn’t right. I don’t know what to do.” Ru isn’t above throwing away all pride and history with Phoebe if it means freeing herself from this void of blackness.
Lifting her eyes to Phoebe’s warm honey, Hotaru gives a wan smile. It’s easier to look at the Nightingale and see the young woman who had visited her glass shop than it is to recall her as Sunjata’s ex-wife. It probably does them both more favors to do so anyway. “Hello Phoebe,” her voice rasps with disuse from the days spent in any form but the human one.
She isn’t sure whether she can stand even if she wanted to. Hotaru isn’t so weak from hunger or loss that it’s physically impossible, but it seems a Herculean task. Insurmountable. Instead she tilts her head invitingly to the spot at her side, cheek still perched on her knee. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I…I don’t know what to do.” Instead of crying, her gaze is distant and almost confused. Dreamlike. “When I first laid eyes on my twins I cried tears of joy. For all the complications of them being Remi’s, I loved them so much that it didn’t matter. I was…happy isn’t a word strong enough for what I felt. I know I felt it. I know I did.” Dismay creeps into her tone, almost hysterical. Scared.
“But over the next weeks I couldn’t feel that way anymore. I hated them. I imagined all of us dying together. What the hell is wrong with me?” Soft voice tremors and shakes, terrified of her own emotions but incapable of escaping them. Perhaps even scared of judgment from this woman she had always inevitably been pitted against in ways they never should have been. “I’ve never felt even something as minor as ill-will towards a child in my life. Certainly never my own. What is happening to me? Is it magic?” Desperate, she unfurls from her little ball and reaches a hand for Phoebe, snagging in her clothes like a scared child reaching for their mother’s skirts. Hererochromatic eyes are ringed by bloodshot vessels, and she looks very small and lost. “Please, I know it isn’t right. I don’t know what to do.” Ru isn’t above throwing away all pride and history with Phoebe if it means freeing herself from this void of blackness.
I'm ready to hope, swing me out of the low
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do it alone
Wide awake in the glow, I can't do it alone
