HOTARU
I know when you were little girls
You dreamt of being in my world
You dreamt of being in my world
It is as if the entire world is attempting to thaw in the span of one golden hour, but she only has eyes for the sea-glass siblings of her own. Worlds end, she has lived enough storybook endings to see it happen time and again. There is only one Remi.
“You look good, Remi,” she says with a smile that blooms slow at comforting the sight of his own. Better than she recalls most recently in brief glimpses after Vai’s death. A hand elegantly waves away his apology, and - exercising what she can remember of the other times she has been here - envisions a simple oak bench for them to sit upon, solitary figures in a world that only philosophers could debate the reality of. “Would it have truly been a goodbye when I knew we would see each other again? Borders mean nothing to us.”
Childlike, bare toes dig beneath the snow as if it were sand, fingertips tapping idle rhythm on the edge of the bench. Contemplative. “Yes. They need me more than the Greatwood ever could. I was told you would be called to the Draig?” He can surely assume the source of her information, but she has far-reaching networks, webs that shiver under her touch. Sunjata, Phoebe, Wessex, Deimos, Remi, Frey. Who’s to say who it really was?
“You look good, Remi,” she says with a smile that blooms slow at comforting the sight of his own. Better than she recalls most recently in brief glimpses after Vai’s death. A hand elegantly waves away his apology, and - exercising what she can remember of the other times she has been here - envisions a simple oak bench for them to sit upon, solitary figures in a world that only philosophers could debate the reality of. “Would it have truly been a goodbye when I knew we would see each other again? Borders mean nothing to us.”
Childlike, bare toes dig beneath the snow as if it were sand, fingertips tapping idle rhythm on the edge of the bench. Contemplative. “Yes. They need me more than the Greatwood ever could. I was told you would be called to the Draig?” He can surely assume the source of her information, but she has far-reaching networks, webs that shiver under her touch. Sunjata, Phoebe, Wessex, Deimos, Remi, Frey. Who’s to say who it really was?
Don't forget it, don't forget it
respect that and bow down bitches
respect that and bow down bitches
