Hotaru
Difficult is an understatement, but are there any words to describe their torn loyalties sufficiently? Hotaru cannot risk talking to anybody else about her uncertainty, not when those closest to her are so aligned with their convictions, hardly straying. Sunjata understands best of them all. It's a relief, even when neither of them expands upon the topic, instead sitting in silence staring at one another as they reflect privately on the difficulties of war.
As he shuffles closer she can smell the hint of fading alcohol on his breath, the warmth as it ghosts over her face, the bridge of her nose and crest of her cheeks. It makes her eyes flutter with something she can't call exhaustion. All the same she lets them lid halfway as he speaks if only to better soak in the words he shares. The insight into a life she is not part of, a child she knew for only an afternoon and had already grown attached to. "I wonder what her shift would be, to be so young. Whether it would be a reflection or a prediction." How far did the cosmic etchings of the soul into animal forms extend? "When we met, she was enamored with A-Atlas," the name chokes and breaks on her tongue, and she forges on painfully, "but what little girl doesn't love horses?" The attempt at humor falls flat at his next revelation, and the fact that she is suddenly questioning whether she'd ever told him of that day, of who had dropped Kamaria off at their door.
Rage stirs anew in her, fueled by the recklessness of alcohol, and her eyes fly open even as his slide past her. "What? That's - Sunjata, that's awful," she spits, fumbling for words that aren't purely expletives. Elbow rising to prop her up slightly before sinking back down when it makes her head spin anew. "Why would she promise to save Nate, give you her own child knowing you would raise her with him, only to do that? What does she get out of twisting a babe's mind?" The newfound respect for Safrin she'd gained threatening to wither away at this new information.
As he shuffles closer she can smell the hint of fading alcohol on his breath, the warmth as it ghosts over her face, the bridge of her nose and crest of her cheeks. It makes her eyes flutter with something she can't call exhaustion. All the same she lets them lid halfway as he speaks if only to better soak in the words he shares. The insight into a life she is not part of, a child she knew for only an afternoon and had already grown attached to. "I wonder what her shift would be, to be so young. Whether it would be a reflection or a prediction." How far did the cosmic etchings of the soul into animal forms extend? "When we met, she was enamored with A-Atlas," the name chokes and breaks on her tongue, and she forges on painfully, "but what little girl doesn't love horses?" The attempt at humor falls flat at his next revelation, and the fact that she is suddenly questioning whether she'd ever told him of that day, of who had dropped Kamaria off at their door.
Rage stirs anew in her, fueled by the recklessness of alcohol, and her eyes fly open even as his slide past her. "What? That's - Sunjata, that's awful," she spits, fumbling for words that aren't purely expletives. Elbow rising to prop her up slightly before sinking back down when it makes her head spin anew. "Why would she promise to save Nate, give you her own child knowing you would raise her with him, only to do that? What does she get out of twisting a babe's mind?" The newfound respect for Safrin she'd gained threatening to wither away at this new information.
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
And I do things that I don't really mean
