HOTARU
Her dream. Her creation. Is this what she dreams of? It's admittedly a surprise that this isn't the Aurora Basin, but perhaps in the wake of her pregnancy she's feeling particularly nostalgic. This was her childhood home after all. This was where her own had mother raised her once upon a time. His voice is dreamlike and distant to her, overtaken by the emotional weight of surroundings that melt obligingly into a replica of the meadow she'd known.
Her life had started here; hours spent bickering with Raeden, hiding in their mother's shadow, running labyrinthine patterns beneath the trees to avoid Stella's sharp gaze and giving themselves away with the chorus of young laughter. Such small and humble roots. And though it was never planted there, from her memory springs a tree; two trunks planted close together, twisting and combining into a singular entity as it reaches for the sky. A tree she would often visit in the wake of her parents' murder, laying against the sun-warmed bark as she regaled the monument of their love with all the little moments of her life they would never see.
Simple cotton brushes against her legs as she moves closer; an unassuming white sundress, hair loose and feet bare. A child of the nature that surrounds them. "This is where I was born," she replies, voice quiet and filled with a lifetime of memories. Turning, Hotaru lets her eyes rove over Remi, barefoot and boyish where he stands gazing over her origins. He seems younger to her, free of the burdens of maturity. She extends her hand to him, beckoning. "We simply called it the Foothills. I've yet to find anything like it in Caido." Turning away, Ru gazes up at the tree's unified branches, smiling sadly. "And this is my parents' tree. They died together; my father protecting her. The gods made a monument to their love when their killer was caught, and this is the shape it took." Her palm touches the bark, and she marvels at how close to reality it feels. Turning over her shoulder, Hotaru quietly marvels at how Remi looks against the backdrop of her youth. Peace is a cloak she wishes he were at liberty to wear more often. "Is this why they call you the Lullaby?" She is sure she has scarcely felt more at peace than she does now.
i'm the little lightning girl
living electricity
a lightning bolt in human form
