Hotaru
She's the kinda girl that you can never please
It is certainly a warning. The calm before the storm. For has she not always been the storm child? The lightning girl? Those roots are not so easily forgotten even if she has strayed from her ancestral soil. He is right to worry. To watch. She does not shun or snark, instead grateful for his hovering and juvenile attempts at distraction. Somehow Hotaru knows that if he had not been here with her, something far more terrible would have already come to pass. For now there is only the ominous lull as tension builds. Atlas departs with Deimos’ companions, privy to her thoughts in a way they are not and seeking to join them out of the crossfire. Hotaru is not dissuaded by his flat tone, her own smirk only curling further as she watches the gears turn behind his blue eyes. Breaking into a grin at his acquiescence, any notion of words or instructions burn away when his body begins to shift, dark and imposing shape still held but in far more primordial arrangements. For a moment she gapes appreciatively; witnessing his form up close is incredible after all, no matter how she’ll regret stroking his ego later.
His bark shakes her into action, and with a carefree laugh she throws the wood round, sending it sailing through the air in his direction. Immediately she ties up her skirt at the waist, ready to run after it if he can throw it back - she wouldn’t put it past him with how big his shift is - or to chase him down on useless human legs to try and retrieve it.
