She laughs. It’s drowned by the sounds of chattering ghost voices, but she hears it in her bones. Well isn’t this just the funniest shit she’s encountered. Kotaro never figured herself to be one to pass off into the next lifetime, especially when her immortality kept her firmly grounded and beautiful in Beqanna. She’d figured once Peccatrice exploded into the next world she would never see her again, per the rules of life. But life – or maybe the magic of Beqanna – had other ideas.

A mare with the soul of timelessness becomes the prey, and then her constant flow of lifeblood is chewed in half by the jaws of someone who will inherit it. Just like that, Kotaro is no longer of Beqanna’s living world. Just like that, Kotaro no longer has to wonder about her dear lover. Just like that, Kotaro’s suffering and mourning is put to a sudden, jarring end.

So when she blinks open dark eyes to see a gray, hazy world, she laughs. Everything is ironic and funny and paper-thin. There’s a minor crowd, all looking to see what new ghost baby the living world has birthed. Who they are (a family member or child or lover or queen or king or old friend or perhaps someone magical or perhaps someone alive) and where they’re from and how they got here. The whispers stir but she doesn’t hear them because her laughter is echoing in her recently-deceased ears.

It stops dramatically short when she spots that face she didn’t expect to ever see. It’s a face that used to be lying in bits and pieces and chunks the last time she saw it. It’s a face she’s seen every day since her lover’s death. The face gets closer, suddenly, and then they are touching. It feels odd – less solid and more fluttering and brief – but Kotaro accepts it nonetheless. She notes that the scars on her shoulders (deep, constantly aching scars from cursed wings given by her lover) no longer cause a dull throb, but it is hardly noticeable compared to Peccatrice’s body wrapped around hers.

Oh goodness, how much she’s missed that tight little body.

Ever the sarcastic one (even to their reunion), Kotaro replies roughly, “No, I’m not. I’m just a random rock you’re hugging and crying and slobbering over.” Then her mouth tightly crooks into a genuine, rare smile and she pulls Peccatrice closer. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, babe.”