Hotaru
Admittedly Hotaru is deeply amused that Maeve has not heard of Deimos. The man is at times infamous, and she fully intends on teasing him with this minor revelation that he has yet to spread his prowess across all of Caido. Though admittedly the man himself preferring anonymity, it will likely only be a relief. “Oh, our rule was definitely no fairytale. We were not tied by love or marriage or any other nonsense; merely equals, brethren perhaps.” Words cannot describe what the man means to her, but this she guards slightly more strongly. Unwilling to share, to be vulnerable in such a way when her heart still hurts with every stuttering beat. “We conquered, invaded, and overturned many lands. Supported our allies, and crushed our enemies. We were a mighty, unstoppable force until the day our land itself perished. A far more bloody tale, but no less fantastical I believe.” Amusement thick and cloying in her tone even as she watches Maeve’s face slyly, wondering how the young woman will take this revelation of Hotaru’s bloodied hands and unparalleled might. So many overlook her, underestimate her; physically, she is unassuming. Oh, but how many times had she used that to her advantage? No, Hotaru is no shrinking violet. Her reign had been mighty and unbroken, and she is proud of that.
Caught in such memories, her own smirk is sharp and inviting, courting Maeve closer like a siren’s call. Though the language she speaks is one Hotaru does not share, the teasing tone alone is like blood in the water. “I’m sure we’ll have hours enough for your creativity to run dry. I do not see why you can’t call me all of them over the course of our time together.” She is quite well known for her stamina after all. If a marathon is what it takes for Maeve to make it through all those delightful names, then a marathon they shall have.
Loathe as she is to cut short the introductions between Maeve and Atlas, she fears more for the woman’s body heat; luxurious though the coat is, layers are a necessity in Halo, and Maeve had come unprepared for long moments in the cold. Getting her settled is a matter of seconds, and Hotaru’s laughter is a warm exhale against the curved shell of Maeve’s ear. “I see no harm in a little spoiling, do you? Not if proper thanks are given.” Hotaru’s arm around Maeve’s waist itches to descend, to let her fingertips trace the seam of the woman’s leggings, but she refrains and instead focuses on the response given. A hum of understanding escaping at the notion of far worse brothels and similar establishments. “I’d be happy to help you bring in...new management at those other locations if you need.” Violence is not out of place in Torchline after all. “But I would be happy to help you rebuild.” Even if it means returning once more to a place she’d rather never see again.
Atlas’ pace picks up to a long, extended trot, carrying them faster over the snow. Hotaru tightens her grip to ensure Maeve is not dislodged, helping rock her into the motions. It’s not too far of a journey - the smoke of her fireplace on the horizon is already visible, even if the spa’s walls are not. “Were you born there, then?”
Caught in such memories, her own smirk is sharp and inviting, courting Maeve closer like a siren’s call. Though the language she speaks is one Hotaru does not share, the teasing tone alone is like blood in the water. “I’m sure we’ll have hours enough for your creativity to run dry. I do not see why you can’t call me all of them over the course of our time together.” She is quite well known for her stamina after all. If a marathon is what it takes for Maeve to make it through all those delightful names, then a marathon they shall have.
Loathe as she is to cut short the introductions between Maeve and Atlas, she fears more for the woman’s body heat; luxurious though the coat is, layers are a necessity in Halo, and Maeve had come unprepared for long moments in the cold. Getting her settled is a matter of seconds, and Hotaru’s laughter is a warm exhale against the curved shell of Maeve’s ear. “I see no harm in a little spoiling, do you? Not if proper thanks are given.” Hotaru’s arm around Maeve’s waist itches to descend, to let her fingertips trace the seam of the woman’s leggings, but she refrains and instead focuses on the response given. A hum of understanding escaping at the notion of far worse brothels and similar establishments. “I’d be happy to help you bring in...new management at those other locations if you need.” Violence is not out of place in Torchline after all. “But I would be happy to help you rebuild.” Even if it means returning once more to a place she’d rather never see again.
Atlas’ pace picks up to a long, extended trot, carrying them faster over the snow. Hotaru tightens her grip to ensure Maeve is not dislodged, helping rock her into the motions. It’s not too far of a journey - the smoke of her fireplace on the horizon is already visible, even if the spa’s walls are not. “Were you born there, then?”
soak me in your moonshine
and fuck me on fire
and fuck me on fire
