I lost who I was, forgot myself in the hands of someone who didn't know me
I'm slowly undoing their devastation, unfolding the corners
I'm slowly undoing their devastation, unfolding the corners
She sticks her tongue out at his retreating back, shamelessly utilizing the fact he can’t see her to indulge in more childish inclinations. She loves him, but Gods if he doesn’t give her grey hairs. He’s so lucky she’s blonde and hides it well or she’d have to kill him on principle.
A soft hum of capitulation is his answer to their bartering. He may have nearly everything he could want at his fingertips with his creation magic which makes it more difficult to come up with a fitting payment, but Hotaru is creative. Surely she’ll figure something out.
It’s obvious why Deimos is having an easier time with the snow immediately, but Hotaru does not begrudge him his talents. Especially when they are being utilized to help her own business, child that it is to her. Digging her own shovel into the stubborn ice at his side, Hotaru tunes her ears to his voice as it sheds light on his day. “You were never capable of staying still,” she notes just as he’d expected, both fond and exasperated as she usually sounds when speaking of his habits. “Though I’m glad you came all the same. You did say you had some tales to tell,” she prods with an interested crest of her brow, recalling their conversation during his massage. It’s a masochistic request really; for all she portrays herself as having moved on even to him, she still is barely sleeping at night. Her bed too small, too empty and cold. Nate’s last bite has begun to heal already, and as it fades her heart goes with it, deflated and useless. But she needs to know all the same.
A soft hum of capitulation is his answer to their bartering. He may have nearly everything he could want at his fingertips with his creation magic which makes it more difficult to come up with a fitting payment, but Hotaru is creative. Surely she’ll figure something out.
It’s obvious why Deimos is having an easier time with the snow immediately, but Hotaru does not begrudge him his talents. Especially when they are being utilized to help her own business, child that it is to her. Digging her own shovel into the stubborn ice at his side, Hotaru tunes her ears to his voice as it sheds light on his day. “You were never capable of staying still,” she notes just as he’d expected, both fond and exasperated as she usually sounds when speaking of his habits. “Though I’m glad you came all the same. You did say you had some tales to tell,” she prods with an interested crest of her brow, recalling their conversation during his massage. It’s a masochistic request really; for all she portrays herself as having moved on even to him, she still is barely sleeping at night. Her bed too small, too empty and cold. Nate’s last bite has begun to heal already, and as it fades her heart goes with it, deflated and useless. But she needs to know all the same.
and picking up the pieces that were chiseled away
HOTARU
