they all need something to hold on to; open

[Nao and Ikaro]

they all need something to hold on to, they all mean well pay your respects to society giving me hell On the horizon, two figures crest a low hill and pause to stand upon it, looking down on the field and its sea of faces. First is a small slip of a mare with flaxen hair and an exotic tilt to her almond eyes. Though slight, there is a fierceness about her; like flint, it sharpens the softness to an edge, and she holds her head very high indeed. Just beside her is a sooty bay stallion, lean and quiet; a presence much less commanding than his female counterpart. “Well,” she starts, her liquid-smooth voice rippling with impatience, “We’re here.” She cranes her shapely head back at him, almond eyes flashing. “Is it everything you thought it would be, brother?” And with that Nao turns from him, heading down the grassy slope without a backward glance, gliding into the fray with sweet lips and hooded eyes. Beneath his breath, Ikaro sighs. There is yet gentleness to him, despite the sins of their father. And mother, Nao would have scoffed, had she been given half the chance. But he remembers their mother. She was the first beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then she’d left. She’d left them with him. That alone is what Nao remembers about Kagerou. The dappled bay pauses there on the slope of the hill, silently watching after his sister. They’d been here before, once. A long time ago. Time – they have known for decades that as long as they are together, time passes them by. Yet therein lies the clause of their immortality. Sometimes, he suspects that she hates him for it. He glimpses it in her eyes – the way they flicker so darkly at him when she thinks he isn’t looking. He is her constant reminder, and that is why he can never blame her. She’d always had it worse because of him. It isn’t long before he follows in the flaxen chestnut’s path, winding around small gatherings here and there until he finds her. Nao’s eyes are sweeping the faces of those milling about, swift and sharp, though she lets her gaze linger momentarily when a stranger catches her eye. “Nao,” he reproaches, his husky voice low. She ignores him, and so he simply waits at her side. Like moths to flame, there would be those who were drawn to her. There always were. nao § ikaro you could never feel my story, it's all you know i will not fold, she's in control of everyone and everything