Hotaru
She's the kinda girl that you can never please
It brings a laugh to her lips to see mothers snatching their children off the sand to their breasts as Deimos rampages past, husbands sputtering and lunging for open containers of food and drink. The mayhem is minimal but delightful all the same. Controlled chaos. And the two of them, in their own little world, as they have been for so very long. Far and above those who shoot them nasty glances of disapproval. As he whirls back around, Hotaru gives in to childish notions, lunging across the sand and catching herself on palms and knees when he eludes her as she'd known would happen. It hadn't stopped her from trying, and doesn't now as she picks herself up off the sand and continues sprinting after him, gauzy skirt whipping around her knees. He is certainly right to assume her inclination towards lightning however, and when he drops she stick she slows her advance to a half-hearted jog, hair wild and matching the slightly crazed grin on her face. Snatching the stick before he could lunge for it anew, she spins and hurls it with all her might towards the reaching, thin waves at the shore.
