(SE) need some room to breathe

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

He ducks his head a small amount at the misunderstanding, another plume of his breath leaving him as he nods. “And I’m sorry that it did.” He offers, as if it matters – because now face to face without protections against one another or reasons, only the grief that hangs between them and the actions both of them had taken against one another laying in the snow in that very same space made for Sunjata, at the very least, to be level headed. To put reason to things, to talk about them like adults rather than rage fueled paranoia.

He doesn’t need to anymore, not with that stone in his pocket gifted from Safrin that could be used even for godly illusions.

The only downside is that Sunjata still can’t quite find it in him to forgive her for it. Not yet. Maybe with time, but time was a valuable resource that it constantly seemed like they were running too little on.

Her explanation of her shift has him considering it, squinting at her as if he might be able to see what it is she’s describing. “I can see it.” He murmurs with a shrug. “Hawks are protective, aren’t they? Protective predators. It’s not like my nyala shift or anything.” A crooked smile does manage to break on his face, a huff of a sound that could be amusement hanging in the air between them.

“If you want, though, I can fly with you. I have four fucking shifts for it.” Perhaps it’s his way of offering whatever sort of forgiveness he can, even if he can’t fully give in yet. At the very least, having the opportunity to fly would give her the best chance she has, and it isn’t like Sunjata doesn’t care about her anymore.

Quite the opposite, really, which is why it still hurt so much.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Some people crash two or three times and then learn from their mistakes
We are the ones who don't slow down at all

"It's okay," she assures, instead of restating her forgiveness, because perhaps he needs to hear that instead. Hotaru doesn't offer it with expectation for his own forgiveness. In fact, she isn't betting that he'll ever forgive her. She has come to terms with that. Never let it be said that Hotaru is the type of woman to hold on to things long since lost, no matter how she may desire to.

Humming quietly, she wraps the coat tighter around her, feeling somehow stripped bare with even the smallest compliment from him. It's not even rightly a compliment. An evaluation of her traits really. But done so in a positive light, it still makes her ache, feeling undeserving. "Here I was thinking it was because they were scavengers," she laughs humorlessly. Opportunistic predators that preferred their prey alive beneath their talons, but which would descend upon any remains of a kill if it meant their bellies were full. "Your nyala is all looks - just like you." She doesn't have the heart or bravery to wink, but her grin has the ghost of something playful in it.

The offer makes her pause. It's...monumental, really. Even if she wanted to turn a blind eye, Hotaru is all too aware this is a gesture. Of what, she isn't quite sure. It would get her home to the twins faster too, and would help her get over the trepidation that has kept her from shifting back to it after the injury she'd sustained escaping the mountain reaches of Halo during the invasion. "I...if you have the time." Leaving the ball in his court even though Sunjata had extended the offer in the first place. Even so, if he didn't retract the offer, Hotaru intended to accept.

And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall

HOTARU

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

It is a balm of sorts, one that soothes some old wounds. Like the phantom pain of an injury long since scarred over. He hasn’t realized how much he’d needed such a thing. So he focuses as she tightens the coat around her, as the conversation drifts toward something easier, something simpler, where he doesn’t have to worry or fight against things so much. It’s worth it to him to be able to not have to think, to tiptoe, and it feels safe.

“Mmm,” he pauses as if considering her words until she finishes them in talk of his nyala shift and his brows do raise – it sparks a slightly brighter smile to tug at the corners of his lips as he shakes his head. “Gods, I look like shit though.” At least the Nyala was pretty – with its golden tipped horns, with its stripes and thick fur and it’s naturally passive energy.

After all, the nyala in order to win over their mates? They danced rather than fight. Perhaps it was a part of Sunjata that was reminiscent of his passive younger self. The boy he’s too afraid to prod at. “I have time. You just have to pick which shift you want. Macaw, bat, or Pegasus.” He’s not going to pick the predator out of his flighted shifts, not for something like this.

And there’s a part of him glad that she accepts it, given that he’d never intended on snatching the offer back.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Some people crash two or three times and then learn from their mistakes
We are the ones who don't slow down at all

"You're in good company then," she jokes on a noise more exhale than laugh. Neither looks their best right now. She may not have the scars and recent bond-break symptoms that he exhibits, but Hotaru certainly never usually lets herself appear this haggard in any other circumstance. It's easier to joke than to focus on the monumental moment that seems to be breathing down her neck. She knows she still hasn't mastered withholding her emotions from the bond - had never done so with her companion bonds, never seen a need to. But it's a risk she's willing to take. Has to, if she intends to make it to the Greatwood with any level of haste.

"Macaw, then. It's the closest in terms of size and structure." Especially if this was to be instructional, might as well make it easier on the both of them. Taking a steadying breath, she shakes her hands out inside the sleeves where they fall over the edges of her fingertips, and reaches for that shape inside her that she has come to know is the bird. Shifting itself is an easier sensation than flying, and within moments there is a pale, golden-hued hawk standing in the snow where the woman once had. While his side of the bond is muted like Remi had once shown her, she knows her own is half-stoppered at best, letting through snatches of disorientation primarily. Beneath there is the longing for the twins, the bittersweet warmth of Sunjata's presence, and at the very heart a smoldering grief that couldn't be stared into lest you realize it was bottomless. Hotaru forces herself to focus on the nerves instead, hoping to project it with some degree of success as she tries not to feel too daunted by the flight ahead.

And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall

HOTARU

you promised me sunshine, why's it gloomy? we'll wait 'til the night to catch the moonbeam

“Suppose I am.” He rumbles in agreement, finding a spark from within him to tease back with her, because at least that way he doesn’t have to focus on the rest of everything. It is a monumental task, to shift and become attuned with her, when the last time it had happened so many sharp, horrible feelings had been flung at one another like knives, aimed to sear and hurt.

This time it’s different. This time it’s purely for her benefit and he can do his best to try and keep his emotions kept to his chest. She knows what it’s like. She doesn’t need his addition too, despite how much he wished he didn’t have that particular pain in common with her. So he watches as she shifts, as she becomes that small pale hawk and even if she can’t find it fitting, he can.

Her emotions and feelings are another bridge to cross, however, and he nearly shies away from it, swallowing hard as he shakes out his hands, retracts the fur of the Nyala to shift himself. He tries to use the boon of his presence being bittersweet yet still warm to her as an anchor point, one that he wraps himself around as he shrinks down to the macaw. Instead of his tall frame, in its place sits a navy blue macaw among the snow. First things first, you want to lean into the shift. Let it guide you. It’s hard to try and challenge the instincts of the shift. Instead, it’s entirely about trusting it.

Putting your faith into the animal that best represents you. Spread your wings and let the wind rake through your feathers and see how you feel. His voice is accented thicker in the Attuned bond, and with it warbles some of his own emotions – the grief that matches her own, the hope of a new beginning, the bottomless regret, the tinge of distrust and paranoia he’s had all along.

SUNJATA

but now it is a competition of whichever is heavier:
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave

The muted buzz of distant emotions on his side is a comfort somehow. To know that he can sense her own emotions in some way, but to respect her - or himself? - enough to not open the floodgates, to punish her somehow, or to make this harder. She has much to focus on as is. Though she is healed, there is the tremor of uncertainty in her wings, which tuck tight to her small body as if unwilling to open at all. It is entirely the woman inside that prompts such a defensive and nervous reaction. The bird is all too willing to leave an imprint of wings in the snow in search of the blustering winds above.

Helplessly she turns to Sunjata, hopping closer as talons spear snow with each step. Last time I flew, I was injured. Not a great confidence boost. Though she tries for levity, there's a shake of fear beneath made all the more obvious by the way he can feel it even half-hidden as she tries to keep...everything.

But she trusts him despite it all, and so without thinking twice she follows his instructions and spreads her wings wide. The golden pinions flare as his own emotions bleed over, and her mind runs in circles trying to decide whether to cling or recoil. Trying to focus, she lets her wings flex, spreading each level of feathers that she can actively control. There is a flood of anticipation, an aching urge to go up, up, up, pure and untainted by anything else she is feeling as it spills unchecked through the bond that tethers them. Until the memory of that horrible night swells up from the woman inside, and she shrinks away from it again. I can't. I can't. Mulish and stubborn to hide the fear beneath as her wings snap closed abruptly.

you promised me sunshine, why's it gloomy? we'll wait 'til the night to catch the moonbeam

The pale hawk drifts closer and the larger macaw settles in the snow – wings expanded, letting the length of his primaries pierce the soft snow as she approaches. It’s a dance of sorts, to try and not let too much of each other loose – but it’s a losing battle, because they’re not going to get anywhere unless they let one another in. He had expected it to be easy, hadn’t expected her injury and fear to cause issues when it comes to flight. But she tries and tries, at first.

My father snapped my wing. I couldn’t fly for months. She should remember, surely. The nights of Nate setting his wing, of the nights of the bandage that kept it closed while it healed. Even still, even not in the form it had been snapped in, there’s the pale dusting of scars that peek beneath the deep blues.

He can feel her at war with herself, with the way she snaps her wings shut and she grows stubborn and Sunjata hops closer, against his better judgement, to offer the warmth of a wing and the click of his curved beak. You have to let go, Ru. It comes as a slight whisper. If you fall I will catch you. He has more than enough shifts to catch her if she goes down, and if it’s that which worries her, she needs to let go.

Don’t try to control the hawk. Let the hawk control you. Let it become you.

SUNJATA

but now it is a competition of whichever is heavier:
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave

There's a spike of guilt at the reminder, though he doesn't intend it to inspire that she's sure. She feels childish for her fear now, when he had suffered so much worse. But her feet have always been solidly on the ground, and her mind has always followed suit. She has never longed for the sky or the unbroken stretch of horizon. It feels easier to simply ignore this side of her and the feats it is capable of accomplishing. Push away the failure, the memories, the hurt, as she has with so many other things. She had never been capable of flight before, why insist upon it now? She nearly tells him to forget it, but then he's moving closer.

Whether habit or instinct or some other stubbornly ignored emotional source, his physical presence alone soothes the maelstrom in her breast. Slows the breaths that begin to come fast and panicked. It allows an opening for his words to hit home, and her feathers ripple and spread in physical reaction to his promise. Hotaru isn't sure how to describe how she feels in reaction to it, and god help Sunjata as he feels it; intrinsic trust that he will catch her, wishing he would not ask her to be brave, wishing he would forego flight at all and simply catch her now. She has been falling for so very long, she doesn't know where the ground is anymore.

Shame is a good motivator to get her to shut down more human thought at least. Where she can turn away from how she feels and instead compartmentalize everything into the primordial desires of the body she inhabits. Or, if Sunjata is right, the body that is her, merely different. From there it is easier to hop away for a bit of room, and with a heavy beat of her wings that sends snow flying, she is airborne. Coasting low, scarcely high enough to skim treetops, and she levels out shakily, wings beating intermittently as the woman inside fights to subdue herself now that she is actively in the sky. Jata, are you here? Where are you? Voice reaching for him, too uncertain of her skills to look for him, urgency needling into her tone. The nickname slips free just as hers had for him, one she hasn't used since before the fire.

you promised me sunshine, why's it gloomy? we'll wait 'til the night to catch the moonbeam

Perhaps it had brought other thoughts to the surface, but for Sunjata, he tries to keep them all the same. That she needed to learn to fly to get to her children – wouldn’t he do the same for Kamaria? To face his biggest fears for his daughter and for his husband? Absolutely he would. It’s partially why he’s considering the demigod offering Safrin had given him. It’s also why he hasn’t accepted it yet – to give Nate a chance to decide on it first.

He’s learning. And it’s frankly terrifying.

But he means it when he says he’ll catch her – and he watches, still from the ground as she manages to shut down her human side, to let the hawk take over, to spread her wings and lift herself into the sky where the cold bite of the wind banks on each and every feather. And he’s not far behind her, letting her emotions wash over him as he tries to sooth his own, to take to the sky after her and remain hovering lower beneath her.

When her voice reaches him, he pushes further, deep navy wings beating against the cold wind that sends shivers up his spine to pull himself up beside her. Here. He murmurs, angling himself to coast a bit further away to give her some room before he drops lower. Beneath you, to catch you. He offers, squaring himself beneath her again. You’re doing great. He hums gently, wings beating against the winter air.

SUNJATA

but now it is a competition of whichever is heavier:
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave

From the maelstrom of background noise of wind and her own heartbeat, his voice calls out like a beacon, and she hones in on the steady thrum of his own emotions instead of her own. It's easier to bury herself in his own easy confidence in his flying, to borrow from his certainty until her own has found its footing. The blue in the corner of her eyes, sharper and with better range in this form, helps settle the brief anxiety that he might have at all left her alone up in the sky. It's not that she thinks he would do it on a personal level, but that she is so very scared of being alone - as alone as she'd been that night, in the dark and the cold, running scared and blind and wounded until her wings could carry her no more.

Though he drops down beneath her, now she knows where he is, and there is a weight eased in that. She flies straight for some time, silent and struggling to relax. Achieving it in lengthening periods of time, until she is confident enough to slowly dip one wing to arc into a slow circle. I feel like you won't let me off the hook with just this much, she manages with some small but real amount of humor. As the fear subsides and the easy repetition of flight settles in, Hotaru comes to terms with the fact that she has to learn more than the basics.

you promised me sunshine, why's it gloomy? we'll wait 'til the night to catch the moonbeam

He doesn’t expect his presence and ability to help her should she fall, be such a boost to her confidence. But he can feel it – through the Attuned bond, that little bit of comfort he brings and he sighs internally to himself, keeping it hidden from her as his mind races a million miles a minute. Everything could have been so easy, it could have been so nice, there wouldn’t have been burned down buildings in Torchline, there wouldn’t be dead companions, if only he’d thought first.

Though they had talked, he hadn’t understood. He had thought and assumed they were on good terms, had kept his distance from her as per her request. And now? Despite this little boon of help he can offer her, does that change anything? Does he want it to change anything? There’s a part of him that says yes, yes!

But a deeper part of him that’s bitter and still hurt that lashes out with sharp teeth and barbed ends that shrinks him back internally. Of course not. He rumbles, though in his distraction it comes out more playful, like a purr as he swoops up to meet her circle. You’re going to use more energy if you keep flapping everywhere. Try gliding and just boosting yourself when you need it. It would allow her to make longer flights, to be able to reach her children faster without having to take as many breaks.

SUNJATA

but now it is a competition of whichever is heavier:
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave

He is far more masterful at the bond than she, and she knew this all would reveal more than she was comfortable with before she’d ever turned herself over to feathers and wings. She had taken the leap regardless - because she needed to see her children, but also because there was nothing so honest and emotions. Hotaru could talk until she was blue in the face, but there was too little trust between them now for that to be of any use. It put her at a distinct disadvantage yes, something she would normally reject entirely, but it was like a self-administered punishment. To go through something like this so that Sunjata could peer into her soul without any of her barriers to stop him. And knowing she could not do the same in return.

At least the trepidation of the flying itself keeps her mind away from other avenues that would reveal more than she had prepared herself for. Grimacing at his instructions, she doesn’t hide the grudging acceptance from him as she tries to feel for the air currents instead of forcing it to bow to her whims. It’s another lesson in letting go - something Ru has never excelled at. Minutes pass in silence. It becomes easier. The burn in her wing joints ease as she lets the wind take her weight; trusting it to hold her, and trusting in her own wings to intercede when the wind eases. The ground drops away beneath them, sprawling hills covered in snow that erases any landmarks and characteristics beneath.

It’s easier, she confirms eventually, when she feels she has gotten the hang of it. There’s no pout to her tone - Sunjata is the expert here, and Hotaru hadn’t doubted he’d know more. She dips one wing to try out a tighter turn, and nearly fumbles it, catching herself in a graceless flurry of wingbeats and the echo of curses across the bond. Fuck, okay. Turning lessons? Something more than an easy glide.

you promised me sunshine, why's it gloomy? we'll wait 'til the night to catch the moonbeam

He’s been attuned for long enough now to know how to hide the deeper parts of himself. It’s something he clings to as his mask, a mask that he wishes the circumstances had been different so he never had to wear it in front of her. Yet here they are and Sunjata focuses on trying his best to teach her to fly while simultaneous keeping himself hidden away. And he manages it.

For the most part.

Still, she does well enough and he circles her and dives and rises, slipping between the air currents with her as he spreads his navy wings to both catch and glide just as he’s instructed. But she wants to try turning and Sunjata slows his own self propelling in order to try and ensure he can be close to her in case she starts to go down. The curses are met with a huff of a laugh from the Attuned bond. You’ve got to watch out for the sharper currents that will fuck up your turns. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to have some of the wind die out and you can use that to bank. So saying, he prepares himself and gives her a demonstration, before settling in behind her to watch her make her own attempt.

SUNJATA

but now it is a competition of whichever is heavier:
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave

Different as he looks to these eyes, he is still magnificent. Hues of navy and cobalt, wings spread wide and fearless, a splash of color against the void of white around them. This she stifles with a tighter hand than any other emotion, unwilling to let it slip through lest it widen the crack that he can surely already see - a fissure hiding the leviathan of emotions below.

It’s easier to focus on his demonstration instead, and she tracks his movements with that single-minded focus she has always been known for. Cataloguing, memorizing, copying each motion in her mind’s eye. Okay, she mutters, the oddity of talking to herself but still translating it over the bond still new to her. Hotaru doesn’t let herself hesitate this time, doesn’t get caught up in the stress and tension of trying to prepare for and anticipate wind streams she’ll never be able to see coming. Lets the bird take over a little more, even though they are one and the same, and rolls with the wind against her belly as her wings tilt into a perfect slant that sends her banking through empty air. Exhilaration suffuses their bond, her astounded laughter ringing between them.

If it can feel like that all the time, I might be convinced, her laughter dispersed to give way to words, bubbly as they still remain as Hotaru levels out back into an easy coasting glide. Casting her gaze around for him - needlessly, really. He will be right there with her and she knows it, and that knowledge sobers her immediately. What next oh wise one?