To Fly You Must Fall

This place is a coffin, with ghosts that seem to laugh and croon at her from the walls as she slides inside away from the heat of the sun. A place she had never wanted to go, but one she feels she must. Deimos has enough on his plate, and with an inquisitive teenager in her home and a general aversion to intoxication, Hotaru does not have a stash of her own with which to drown herself. After the quest that had delivered them to the hidden group of cannibals in the mines of Whitebrim, she certainly needs a drink anyway.

When she hesitates in the doorway, Hotaru curses herself. She is not a cowardly woman, and insecurity does not suit her. Her jaw flexes as she strides towards one of the corner tables, not wanting to attract direct attention at the bar as she sets her drafting pad down and settles primly in the seat provided. It is easier to calm her nerves as she begins sketching new ideas for a summer line for her shop, though she is still far too aware of every soul that moves about in the bar. Her own feels ragged and raw from her meeting with Deimos, but at least she feels settled in her skin once more. More human than before.

As she sketches she leans back into her chair, pencil tapping at her lips as she considers the paper before her. Perhaps a swim line? The maiden smirks to herself at the idea of cultivating a desire for swimming among the locals, if only to promote her own shop and see lovely bodies wearing her designs. So thinking, she lowers her pencil to the paper and begins adding a few options, happy to distract herself in this way while she gathers the courage to potentially face the man she is avoiding to get herself a drink.

be gentle my little thunderstorm
the world is just not ready

_{Table Code by Sky!}