I was brought up as a southern belle
I grew into the queen of hell
I grew into the queen of hell
There is no hint of a crack in the young woman's demeanor, no telltale shudder of the ice beneath imposing feet, no small tell that Hotaru has been trained to spot and utilize. It's more than a reassurance, as Hotaru would gleefully and literally strike down anyone who did not pass muster - it also appeals to the small bit of her heart that always rejoices at meeting a woman of similar mind and making. Elemental creatures that do not break when forced against each other. Sage eyes remain passive but unyielding, and the lightning that continues to cause hairs to rise and the air to heat dwindles away. There is passage yet to be found here, for Aurelia.
The expletive is merely the cherry on top, and Hotaru gives an inelegant snort of agreement. Though the irony of her name is something the woman cannot control - the last Aurelia the lightning girl had known had tried to challenge her throne, and been mercilessly crushed. As the words fade out into the night, joining the embers of her cigarette somewhere in the sand, Hotaru holds her contemplative silence. Her gut instinct is as reliable as her skills however, and Aurelia resonates like a quarry stone struck true with the force of a swinging hammer. Stepping backwards, the door opens and she gestures for Aurelia to come inside. "Come in, it's cold and this may be a long conversation." All at once her demeanor shifts, to something refined and composed in a way she will never be able to escape, but exuding warmth and invitation all the same. "I still have tea in the pot if you'd like it." As a show of good faith, she reclaims her cup from the table by the fire and moves to the kitchen to refill it, allowing Aurelia to look around if she likes before hopefully sitting down in the other provided chair. Returning - with tea, if the woman desires - she settles back into her own chair and crosses her legs, fingers tapping a restless, steady beat on the rim of her cup. "You don't know me, so my word may be weak, but I am his alibi. He hasn't left this house since LongNight began. He wouldn't have had the opportunity to hurt Vai even if he wanted to." Might as well get the big question out of the way.
The expletive is merely the cherry on top, and Hotaru gives an inelegant snort of agreement. Though the irony of her name is something the woman cannot control - the last Aurelia the lightning girl had known had tried to challenge her throne, and been mercilessly crushed. As the words fade out into the night, joining the embers of her cigarette somewhere in the sand, Hotaru holds her contemplative silence. Her gut instinct is as reliable as her skills however, and Aurelia resonates like a quarry stone struck true with the force of a swinging hammer. Stepping backwards, the door opens and she gestures for Aurelia to come inside. "Come in, it's cold and this may be a long conversation." All at once her demeanor shifts, to something refined and composed in a way she will never be able to escape, but exuding warmth and invitation all the same. "I still have tea in the pot if you'd like it." As a show of good faith, she reclaims her cup from the table by the fire and moves to the kitchen to refill it, allowing Aurelia to look around if she likes before hopefully sitting down in the other provided chair. Returning - with tea, if the woman desires - she settles back into her own chair and crosses her legs, fingers tapping a restless, steady beat on the rim of her cup. "You don't know me, so my word may be weak, but I am his alibi. He hasn't left this house since LongNight began. He wouldn't have had the opportunity to hurt Vai even if he wanted to." Might as well get the big question out of the way.
You were just a little stowaway
That stabbed her way to save herself
That stabbed her way to save herself
