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Hotaru
and Alice
The she-wolf had never sought to understand the magical threads of Helovia that drew each inhabitant to where they needed to be without the individual ever being aware of the subtle manipulation. It had been the draw that had brought her to Alice's egg, to Arya's dying body, Mirabella's wounded return. It seemed that every turn of fate and origin-rewriting pulled on the strings they were all helplessly attached to, mere mannequins and puppets to be pulled and danced along to the song of their preordained destiny. Yet they only ever had mere inklings of the truth, moments of enlightenment where they stopped and realized that something about Helovia was off. Hotaru had them often, and they bothered her ceaselessly in the quiet hours where the mind often preyed upon logic and order - dissolving it into thoughtless paranoia and endless awed questioning. Yet she followed the tugs nonetheless, hardly aware of the fact that they were there, ending up wherever it was she was needed. Bicolored eyes had seen too much for her youth. Barely considered an adult by any seasonal standard, she had already birthed an immortal child, risen as one of the heads of her rank, helped secure peace between the most ancient of Helovian enemies, and orchestrated the downfall of a herd. Yet with it had not come all the grandeur and fame that her mother had whispered not into her ears, but into her twin sister's. Hotaru had heard the legends nonetheless, and though it shamed her at times to have fallen into the steps of her dam when as a child she'd wanted anything but, the thief had ended up victorious in ways that Phaedra had never been capable of achieving. Even with the sorrow that simmered beneath her hatred, Hotaru could sense a mere glimmer of triumph and satisfaction at having superseded the one who had brought her so lovelessly into life. It seemed the Gods had woven their threads of fate and destiny tightly round the vacant shell, the vessel that she surely was in the vehicle of their desires. Had Gaucho not fallen to the wiles of the Goddess as well? Another stage for her to stand upon, another play for her to bear helpless, unwitting and unwilling witness to. She waited in the wings, tentative in her arrival, the bluster of words already pervasive in the chilled air. For a moment she felt cowed and childlike, as was her age and therefore will and liability to do so. Deimos who had granted her the title she so valiantly desired, hungered and thirsted for. But Ophelia... The ivory goddess had been her distant, idyllic mentor for too long beneath Ophelia's awareness. As a foal she had adored her for following her heart, for striding away from her crumbling throne because it was what had been best for her. Her poise and grace, rather than Phaedra's seductive temptations, had been the founding stones for Hotaru's frame and personality. The she-wolf had formed herself willfully, created a perfect machine and then simply inhabited it, a formless but flawless act. Ophelia rang in every fiber and cell of her vessel, and Hotaru had yearned for her approval and in some distant, unacknowledged corner of her mind, her affection. The rosen maiden had built Ophelia up into an idol, and to see her leaving, to watch her turn away again - Her sudden, momentary disdain for Deimos was as fleeting as the thoughts that filtered hazy through her mind. Nomination to take Ophelia's spot? It was the greatest gift and acknowledgement that Ophelia could have given her in that moment, and the woman was both instantaneously enlightened and fearful. How could she hope to replace the frosted lady? What did Ophelia see inside of her - where Hotaru would not even dare glimpse for belief that she would find herself rotten all the way through - that lent her the faith that the young lass could even aspire to be her successor? Only when words were thrown to the earth and forgotten, dissolved, did Hotaru dare to move forward on clumsy, filly legs. She composed herself only to move past Deimos, quiet words on her lips for him. "Excuse me a moment." It was not a request, for he could not truly hold her, but it was a civilized expression of respect for what little it meant when Hotaru was pursuing Ophelia rather than staying at the Reaper's side in support. She followed the maiden hopelessly down the cliffside, her name burned into her tongue only to be expelled lest she turn to ash from the heat of it. "Ophelia!" But she was already gone, leaving Hotaru in her wake, wondering if this time she could make the woman proud of her. Turning, she slowly made her way back to Deimos. Times had changed. Hotaru had family and duty awaiting her, tying her. She could not wander after Ophelia's steps as she had when she'd left the Foothills as a mere babe, mimicking the newly lost leader. But perhaps she could form herself into someone Ophelia would be proud to have ordained. @Ophelia Lots of mention of her this post is almost entirely about her, so just in case you wanted to read more than glimpse! |
![[Image: 515265280ffff]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/515265280ffff)
Plot with me here!
