Hotaru
Somewhere my lifeline still hums and sings
In the mess of all I have thrown away
Colt may be no stranger to being urged and jeered into trying new things, but Hotaru is paid in full by the grimace she receives and the faint, there-and-gone warmth of Colt's fingers brushing against her own around the glass. Pulling it back into her possession with a trilling laugh, the Valkyrie laves her tongue over the honey-sugar rim where Colt's lips had been and drinks down the woman's taste with the current of her own laughter. Gin-slick lips smile unrepentantly once both parts are tucked away safely inside her. In the mess of all I have thrown away
"Can't blame a girl for trying," she sighs mournfully, nestling the glass alongside the still-untouched one that was meant to be solely hers. Extending her pinky away from the glass, she uses it to point vaguely at Colt's vile setup. "Though I only hold distaste for yours because I couldn't hold my liquor prior to becoming a demigod. And I'm the least interesting drunk there is, so shots are wasted on me." The former is true, the latter is far from it. Hotaru has abstained from anything past the line of tipsy for so many years that she can hardly recall what she's like drunk - merely knows it's something she never wants seen again if she can prevent it. Colt can keep her liquid fire; Hotaru only wants people to see what she makes them see, and alcohol strips that bare.
Colt seems to subscribe to a similar doctrine if the way she moves past Hotaru's sympathy is any indication. The Valkyrie is far from offended by it - impressed, more like. Colt soldiering on even with liquor in her veins and an open shoulder to fall upon sitting right there is proof of resilience that Hotaru plainly admires. So no - she doesn't laugh.
"I once ruled a region nobody thought could be survived, much less tamed. It had to be carved out of ice through stubbornness alone, and nobody believed it could be done until it already was." She had not been alive for those days, but her father had, and his stories had inspired her to venture there and - one day - rule it. "Halo was once regarded as such too, you know. People always assume there's no worth in savage things." Her smile is liquid smoke, appraising even when she has already determined the worth of what lies before her. "Luckily, I hear you're rather known for gentling and breaking wild things. It sounds like a perfect fit for you." Even if she hadn't shared her vision of the place, the role she'd held in King's End precede her. Hotaru has an odd, firm faith in her ability to see this through. Though her ears do perk on a selfish chord struck by an errant statement Colt supplies.
"Lucrative business, those plants. All the more so if you make them into a valid business, like the House of Midnight. Perhaps even offer certain experiences and products in your casino where you can profit twice over?" Her aunt had been dubbed the Poisoner, and though she is out of practice in the arts these days, she knows a promising venture when she smells it. Drugs? Why, that's one of the oldest currencies in the world. Draining the first glass of gin, Ru smiles and swipes the remainder of honey off the rim to pop it into her mouth, muffling her laughter until it slips free with no trace of the sticky confection left behind. "I'm honored, but also insulted. There's more to me than my muscles, darling - are you objectifying me?" Her eyes remain their natural shades as they glimmer with amusement, the knowledge of their unveiled nature still lost on her. It's easier - better - to center the conversation around Colt and the dreams that keep her afloat. Any genuine bits that slip through are like her eyes - just a slip of control, something to be politely ignored for the sake of social propriety.
Hungry now,
I am gathering new seeds to throw wide
I am gathering new seeds to throw wide
