Hotaru
I know they'll be coming to find me soon
But I fear I'm getting used to being held by you
If there is frailty in Maea's laugh or a new shine to her eyes, Hotaru does not bring attention to either. Confiding in someone can't be rushed, and there is plenty of time involved in the making of glass. It's a perfectly therapeutic pastime. Frankly she's happy to share her joy of the hobby whether Maea finds any relief in it or not. But I fear I'm getting used to being held by you
The woman's murmured response is a glaring sign of what may yet be bothering her, but Hotaru has more tact than confronting it head on. Nevertheless she clicks her tongue in a lighthearted tut. "Well of course you are. You're a person, are you not? That's like saying Abandoned are only capable of craving godhood." Though she'd certainly heard similar sentiments in her time in Caido. But look where they are now. "You're no more confined to your race than you are your hair color, dove." Though the playful narrowing of her eyes makes it clear she's forbidding facetiousness, because hair dye does exist thank you.
Reaching up to thumb away the soot swiftly - as Maea would likely either duck away or fluster if she knows her at all - Hotaru distracts with an answer hot on its heels. "Yes and no. The amount of sand, salt, and various metal deposits change the quality of the glass. The type of sand from beaches is the most common and stable, so it's quite prolific." And precisely what they're making today, as Hotaru doesn't need the properties that that others provide for something as simple as a decoration."Melting down existing glass is simply more efficient. It only takes a few minutes." Less than four usually, so they're nearly there already. Peering in, Hotaru ignores the tongs and instead pulls out the mold she'd brought. "If you'll check it's fully liquid and bring it back out, we can begin pouring it into the mold here."
I used to sing about being free
Oh, baby, look what you've done to me
Oh, baby, look what you've done to me
