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