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