Hotaru
There is a certain benefit to taking on a more animalistic form. Human emotions and entanglements seem muted, capable of being compartmentalized - or shoved far, far away. It is a small bit of assistance, but Hotaru clings to it all the same. The beauty of Phoebe's form is a welcome distraction for only a moment - the gleam of the ivory horn on her dished face making Hotaru ache anew with mourning for Atlas.
It is pushed at stubbornly from Phoebe's side of the bond, and it startles the Valkyrie, feathers fluffing up in instinctual defensiveness. She hadn't been focusing on the connection when the woman had shifted. As such she had not thought to try and control her own emotional state, to try and spare the midwife from...everything. Too much to name, to describe. At least Phoebe can only feel the emotion - overwhelming as it is, at least it is not something more intimate, more devastating.
There is a moment as Phoebe approaches that Hotaru tenses, wanting to run. To take to the skies where the demigoddess could not touch her. Where she could be alone in her suffering. Not stripped bare and seen through like a discarded piece of glass. Her pride, her strength, the parts of her that stood up and kept walking through fire time and time again balking at the idea of reaching out to the hand offered in aid. Hotaru had made it through so much worse, hadn't she? So why rely on anybody else now?
But she is so tired.
She wants her babies back. She has lost everything else - Nate and Sunjata, Atlas, Halo, the Gods, Remi - and this is the one thing she can do to try and get one tiny piece back.
So she leans forward to press her tiny feathered head to Phoebe's soft muzzle, and shudders hard all over as the woman's magic spreads through her body. It is disorienting, to say the least. There are no physical wounds to heal, and yet she can feel something being repaired. It leaves her with a distinct sense of disorientation and nausea. It knocks her backward, wings flaring wide to try and offset the stumble, leaving imprints in the dirt. And when she opens her eyes again, everything sharp and narrowed in with her hawk vision, she takes a breath and -
There.
The clarity she was missing, had known was just out of reach but couldn't obtain. Horror, confusion, disgust. How could she have ever felt the way she had? Hotaru had only ever wanted to be a mother her entire life, and she'd known that even in the depths of her...whatever it was Phoebe had called it. But now, with some unseen fracture repaired, she no longer feels that encroaching darkness. That sweet voice whispering that the twins would be safer with her - if they were all in Mort's arms. Herself and them.
She is suddenly human again, and retching pitifully into the dirt, golden hair spilling around her in a sad but appreciated veil to conceal her shame. Hacking and spitting, she heaves for breath, panic and relief warring for control of her state of mind. "What the fuck. What the fuck," she wheezes, eyes filling with tears she can't conceive of the reason for. Rocking backwards, she stares up at Phoebe's unicorn form from the ground, horrified. "I...I never...it wasn't me. It was, but - Phoebe, I've birthed and raised so many children and lost them. I would never - you have to believe me." The urgency is a new panic that has her heart fluttering in her breast. Moving to her knees, Hotaru bows her head, shoulders shaking. "Thank you. Thank you. Gods." It isn't a permanent fix, at least not for the other things. For the affliction Phoebe was familiar with? Gods, she hopes so. But nothing can truly fix the grief of everything else. But for now, it's like a well-bandaged laceration. Numbed and forgotten behind layers of gauze. And for the first time in seasons, she feels like herself.
It is pushed at stubbornly from Phoebe's side of the bond, and it startles the Valkyrie, feathers fluffing up in instinctual defensiveness. She hadn't been focusing on the connection when the woman had shifted. As such she had not thought to try and control her own emotional state, to try and spare the midwife from...everything. Too much to name, to describe. At least Phoebe can only feel the emotion - overwhelming as it is, at least it is not something more intimate, more devastating.
There is a moment as Phoebe approaches that Hotaru tenses, wanting to run. To take to the skies where the demigoddess could not touch her. Where she could be alone in her suffering. Not stripped bare and seen through like a discarded piece of glass. Her pride, her strength, the parts of her that stood up and kept walking through fire time and time again balking at the idea of reaching out to the hand offered in aid. Hotaru had made it through so much worse, hadn't she? So why rely on anybody else now?
But she is so tired.
She wants her babies back. She has lost everything else - Nate and Sunjata, Atlas, Halo, the Gods, Remi - and this is the one thing she can do to try and get one tiny piece back.
So she leans forward to press her tiny feathered head to Phoebe's soft muzzle, and shudders hard all over as the woman's magic spreads through her body. It is disorienting, to say the least. There are no physical wounds to heal, and yet she can feel something being repaired. It leaves her with a distinct sense of disorientation and nausea. It knocks her backward, wings flaring wide to try and offset the stumble, leaving imprints in the dirt. And when she opens her eyes again, everything sharp and narrowed in with her hawk vision, she takes a breath and -
There.
The clarity she was missing, had known was just out of reach but couldn't obtain. Horror, confusion, disgust. How could she have ever felt the way she had? Hotaru had only ever wanted to be a mother her entire life, and she'd known that even in the depths of her...whatever it was Phoebe had called it. But now, with some unseen fracture repaired, she no longer feels that encroaching darkness. That sweet voice whispering that the twins would be safer with her - if they were all in Mort's arms. Herself and them.
She is suddenly human again, and retching pitifully into the dirt, golden hair spilling around her in a sad but appreciated veil to conceal her shame. Hacking and spitting, she heaves for breath, panic and relief warring for control of her state of mind. "What the fuck. What the fuck," she wheezes, eyes filling with tears she can't conceive of the reason for. Rocking backwards, she stares up at Phoebe's unicorn form from the ground, horrified. "I...I never...it wasn't me. It was, but - Phoebe, I've birthed and raised so many children and lost them. I would never - you have to believe me." The urgency is a new panic that has her heart fluttering in her breast. Moving to her knees, Hotaru bows her head, shoulders shaking. "Thank you. Thank you. Gods." It isn't a permanent fix, at least not for the other things. For the affliction Phoebe was familiar with? Gods, she hopes so. But nothing can truly fix the grief of everything else. But for now, it's like a well-bandaged laceration. Numbed and forgotten behind layers of gauze. And for the first time in seasons, she feels like herself.
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
