Pain seems to pore from every angle of his expressive face, and her own crumples as she hangs on every sorrowful word. "Then...who raised you? You weren't alone all that time, were you?" Perhaps in some ways she can understand his mother's plight, if it was in her very nature to move and never cease. But the mother's heart within her balks at the idea. How alone had he been in those initial years? Had he ever found the support he needed, some sort of replacement for the framework his mother's love should have been? Had she ever visited him in her journeys, if only to try and impart upon him the inherent worth he held?
Hotaru is unaccustomed to being so taken in by a stranger's tale, used to holding back, aware of how easy it is to lie and embellish. It makes it easier to detach when he takes her up on her offer, and she has the grace to not comment upon or stare too long at the shadows that haunt the prisms in his irises. "Oh, thank you," she titters at the compliment, cheeks flushing slightly in the shadow cast by the high sun as a hand flattens a few folds in her dress. "I have a friend who can store some extra materials for me, so I suppose I'll find you when our days are both amenable to such a thing." Expression soft and unassuming, unwilling to entrap the man in a harsh deadline and scare him away. Kellan's frame is exquisite, and she is eager to dress and fit him. It only helps his case that already she feels like giving him all the gifts and sweetness the world has failed to supply him with.
Such thoughts make it easier to reveal such deep, hidden memories to him. He has no knowledge of the woman she used to be, the faults and flaws that haunt her in the sanctity of her own mind. As he shares his own untarnished tale, she pays him the same due attention, and gives a small wistful laugh. "Well, I'm afraid this place is not nearly so interesting in terms of ruling. It's more for show than anything. All we have is our memories to sustain us." Hotaru has moved on from the desire to reclaim such a noble seat. It has little use here in this world, and she's not sure it would welcome her back in quite the same way.
Hotaru is unaccustomed to being so taken in by a stranger's tale, used to holding back, aware of how easy it is to lie and embellish. It makes it easier to detach when he takes her up on her offer, and she has the grace to not comment upon or stare too long at the shadows that haunt the prisms in his irises. "Oh, thank you," she titters at the compliment, cheeks flushing slightly in the shadow cast by the high sun as a hand flattens a few folds in her dress. "I have a friend who can store some extra materials for me, so I suppose I'll find you when our days are both amenable to such a thing." Expression soft and unassuming, unwilling to entrap the man in a harsh deadline and scare him away. Kellan's frame is exquisite, and she is eager to dress and fit him. It only helps his case that already she feels like giving him all the gifts and sweetness the world has failed to supply him with.
Such thoughts make it easier to reveal such deep, hidden memories to him. He has no knowledge of the woman she used to be, the faults and flaws that haunt her in the sanctity of her own mind. As he shares his own untarnished tale, she pays him the same due attention, and gives a small wistful laugh. "Well, I'm afraid this place is not nearly so interesting in terms of ruling. It's more for show than anything. All we have is our memories to sustain us." Hotaru has moved on from the desire to reclaim such a noble seat. It has little use here in this world, and she's not sure it would welcome her back in quite the same way.
Hotaru
