Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright
Their small bubble of happiness is the only shield she has for the hole in her heart, and she basks in it while it's there, all too aware of the ephemeral nature of it. When it pops, she can feel the gravity of his attention as it falls upon her. As intense and focused as the rest of the man. There is a safety to that gravity, yes, but also an expectant nature that she knows she can't duck away from. If she were to truly object, Hotaru is sure that he would recede into waitfulness until she was ready. It's tempting. All the same it's just as tempting to bleed the infection from the wound.
His assurance is a grumbling, reluctant thing. It strikes a smile from the stony flint of her mouth, a squeeze from her hands where they are still intertwined with his own. She may ask it of him. If she is not strong enough to do so herself, burdened and restrained by her own emotional ties and vows as she is, she knows she can turn to him. "I may need you to," she admits softly, drawing her gaze back up to Deimos' clear blue. "But not until after. We both need to rest." Definitive. She knows she needs it as much as he does.
Distracting herself, she stares down at their hands, examining the differences in their skin tone. Scars, callouses. Shared blood that may not be readily visible - long washed off - but which stains them all the same. "When I returned from the Wilds, it was hours before the sun went down for LongNight. Nate left for the Grounds to assist Wessex. I stayed with Sunjata in the new house." Now another half-burned skeleton, the same as the first. Perhaps it's some sort of poetic sign. "A woman named Vai, someone he is close to, was left badly injured on our doorstep. Remi and Ronin came to confront Sunjata about it, and Remi created some sort of...dream? In which he killed Sunjata to ensure it was truly not him. After that, Sunjata told me his father had returned, had broken his wing and drugged him over time. It was his accent that Vai had recognized." The actions of the demigods seem so far away now, so inconsequential in comparison to all that has tumbled down in the time between. Her rage is muted, quiet. Overshadowed by how she wants to make him hurt the way Remi had. An evil sort of veil, but one she has never pretended not to have.
"He kept that information from me. We got into...a terrible fight. He refused to let me help or be involved, said I would stand no chance against his father. That I would be nothing more than another body on his doorstep, just more fodder." Hurt crinkles the corners of her lips, the space between fair brows. Wondering briefly if Deimos will know how badly that had hurt. She suspects he will. To have all assumption of power stripped from her, to be told her death would mean nothing, to be forbidden to take arms up on behalf of her loved one...and then the minuscule knife of the selective use of his grammar, calling it his doorstep. "He made me promise to come here, to you. Until it was over. I planned on lying, but...well, it never came to pass." And yet here she is all the same. Ironic, but not unexpected. Hotaru will always find her way back to Deimos, even Sunjata knew that, had suggested it for precisely that reason.
"Nate never made it back home. He was kidnapped, badly tortured. A mob attacked Sunjata, partially burned the house. He challenged his father publicly, killed him, but the two went over a cliff into the ocean. Nate came home with me, and we...waited. Searching did nothing, he came home on his own." Here, things become much more difficult to talk about, and her hands squeeze restlessly at Deimos' hands. Lifting her gaze at last, she bares her red-rimmed eyes to him and tries to summon a mockery of a smile that trembles violently. "He told me that Nate wanted children, that he'd been finally considering them himself. With me." A lump swells into her throat to cut off any further explanation. With him, she doesn't need it. He'd been there through almost all of her children, born and blessed alike. Had seen how different she was with her children. Knew that she had been forced to raise them alone each and every time, betrayed by every love she'd ever known. Hotaru has been searching for family since she was a child, building it up piece by piece only to have them stripped away, crueler and crueler each time. The prospect of children...it was a monumental offering, a euphoria just within reach, and she has to swallow hard - throat clicking painfully - to end that dream with her own words all over again.
"He swore we would leave Safrin as a last resort. He knew it would come with too high a cost. I was already planning to ask the Voice to assist in regards to Nate, or perhaps Frey, but...the next night, he went to her." Her nails dig into Deimos' palm sharply, reflexive, and she drops his hands like she's been burned the second she realizes it, regret shining in her eyes as she quickly flips his hands to ensure she didn't leave any marks. Staring down at the lines in his palm, she takes a moment to compose herself. What little she can. "Nate saw the Voice the same time. When he returned he told us she had made him into a demigod." A change she'd intended to celebrate, despite her misgivings about the gods on both sides. "But Sunjata...he had made a deal with Safrin. She would have his child, and he would care for it and raise it. He would become a more active soldier for her against the Ascended. In return, she would save Nate if the Voice was destroyed during the coming war. Only now, he is beyond her idea of saving." Hotaru has to withdraw her hands entirely, nails piercing into her own palms so that she does not do it to her best friend. Breath moves faster in her lungs, rage and hurt born anew with how fresh the wound is, and yet it festers all the same. Poisonous, rotten, infected. Slipping into her bloodstream to kill her slowly from the inside.
"I...I stabbed him. With the dagger he gave me. But she had marked him with a tattoo, and it moved and healed him. And he told us that he thinks she left something inside him as well." Tipping forward helplessly, she buries her face into his chest, curled up like a wounded animal as she draws her legs sideways over his own, fully encroaching on his space. He won't reject her, she knows that she is one of the few who can so boldly claim the warmth of his embrace without fear of retribution. "I don't know what to do," she whimpers, a quiet tear finally streaking down her cheek, crawling slow until she lifts a hand to wipe it away. It's the only outlet she has for the hurt. No further tears come. The rage, the loss, it is too great a boulder in the path of that sadness. "Nate and I told him we will never forgive him. But I think Nate is willing to stay. To try." Pulling her head back from Deimos' chest, she stares at him, eyes like voids that crackle with the lightning in her soul. Knowing he can see deep inside her, to the Valkyrie she has always been. Remorseless, unforgiving, damning. "I'm not sure I can try."
His assurance is a grumbling, reluctant thing. It strikes a smile from the stony flint of her mouth, a squeeze from her hands where they are still intertwined with his own. She may ask it of him. If she is not strong enough to do so herself, burdened and restrained by her own emotional ties and vows as she is, she knows she can turn to him. "I may need you to," she admits softly, drawing her gaze back up to Deimos' clear blue. "But not until after. We both need to rest." Definitive. She knows she needs it as much as he does.
Distracting herself, she stares down at their hands, examining the differences in their skin tone. Scars, callouses. Shared blood that may not be readily visible - long washed off - but which stains them all the same. "When I returned from the Wilds, it was hours before the sun went down for LongNight. Nate left for the Grounds to assist Wessex. I stayed with Sunjata in the new house." Now another half-burned skeleton, the same as the first. Perhaps it's some sort of poetic sign. "A woman named Vai, someone he is close to, was left badly injured on our doorstep. Remi and Ronin came to confront Sunjata about it, and Remi created some sort of...dream? In which he killed Sunjata to ensure it was truly not him. After that, Sunjata told me his father had returned, had broken his wing and drugged him over time. It was his accent that Vai had recognized." The actions of the demigods seem so far away now, so inconsequential in comparison to all that has tumbled down in the time between. Her rage is muted, quiet. Overshadowed by how she wants to make him hurt the way Remi had. An evil sort of veil, but one she has never pretended not to have.
"He kept that information from me. We got into...a terrible fight. He refused to let me help or be involved, said I would stand no chance against his father. That I would be nothing more than another body on his doorstep, just more fodder." Hurt crinkles the corners of her lips, the space between fair brows. Wondering briefly if Deimos will know how badly that had hurt. She suspects he will. To have all assumption of power stripped from her, to be told her death would mean nothing, to be forbidden to take arms up on behalf of her loved one...and then the minuscule knife of the selective use of his grammar, calling it his doorstep. "He made me promise to come here, to you. Until it was over. I planned on lying, but...well, it never came to pass." And yet here she is all the same. Ironic, but not unexpected. Hotaru will always find her way back to Deimos, even Sunjata knew that, had suggested it for precisely that reason.
"Nate never made it back home. He was kidnapped, badly tortured. A mob attacked Sunjata, partially burned the house. He challenged his father publicly, killed him, but the two went over a cliff into the ocean. Nate came home with me, and we...waited. Searching did nothing, he came home on his own." Here, things become much more difficult to talk about, and her hands squeeze restlessly at Deimos' hands. Lifting her gaze at last, she bares her red-rimmed eyes to him and tries to summon a mockery of a smile that trembles violently. "He told me that Nate wanted children, that he'd been finally considering them himself. With me." A lump swells into her throat to cut off any further explanation. With him, she doesn't need it. He'd been there through almost all of her children, born and blessed alike. Had seen how different she was with her children. Knew that she had been forced to raise them alone each and every time, betrayed by every love she'd ever known. Hotaru has been searching for family since she was a child, building it up piece by piece only to have them stripped away, crueler and crueler each time. The prospect of children...it was a monumental offering, a euphoria just within reach, and she has to swallow hard - throat clicking painfully - to end that dream with her own words all over again.
"He swore we would leave Safrin as a last resort. He knew it would come with too high a cost. I was already planning to ask the Voice to assist in regards to Nate, or perhaps Frey, but...the next night, he went to her." Her nails dig into Deimos' palm sharply, reflexive, and she drops his hands like she's been burned the second she realizes it, regret shining in her eyes as she quickly flips his hands to ensure she didn't leave any marks. Staring down at the lines in his palm, she takes a moment to compose herself. What little she can. "Nate saw the Voice the same time. When he returned he told us she had made him into a demigod." A change she'd intended to celebrate, despite her misgivings about the gods on both sides. "But Sunjata...he had made a deal with Safrin. She would have his child, and he would care for it and raise it. He would become a more active soldier for her against the Ascended. In return, she would save Nate if the Voice was destroyed during the coming war. Only now, he is beyond her idea of saving." Hotaru has to withdraw her hands entirely, nails piercing into her own palms so that she does not do it to her best friend. Breath moves faster in her lungs, rage and hurt born anew with how fresh the wound is, and yet it festers all the same. Poisonous, rotten, infected. Slipping into her bloodstream to kill her slowly from the inside.
"I...I stabbed him. With the dagger he gave me. But she had marked him with a tattoo, and it moved and healed him. And he told us that he thinks she left something inside him as well." Tipping forward helplessly, she buries her face into his chest, curled up like a wounded animal as she draws her legs sideways over his own, fully encroaching on his space. He won't reject her, she knows that she is one of the few who can so boldly claim the warmth of his embrace without fear of retribution. "I don't know what to do," she whimpers, a quiet tear finally streaking down her cheek, crawling slow until she lifts a hand to wipe it away. It's the only outlet she has for the hurt. No further tears come. The rage, the loss, it is too great a boulder in the path of that sadness. "Nate and I told him we will never forgive him. But I think Nate is willing to stay. To try." Pulling her head back from Deimos' chest, she stares at him, eyes like voids that crackle with the lightning in her soul. Knowing he can see deep inside her, to the Valkyrie she has always been. Remorseless, unforgiving, damning. "I'm not sure I can try."
HOTARU
