Hotaru
Hotaru marvels anew at the small nature of Kamaria's hand, recalling with a heartbroken nostalgia the days when her own children had been so small. Hotaru claps her hands down against her knees in an excited gesture, expression dramatic and pleased. "Of course we can! But then you must call me Ru, okay?" Smile fond and mismatched eyes warm. The inherent shyness in the girl isn't unexpected, but Hotaru had once been cripplingly self-conscious, and her internal response is fierce with the desire to ensure Kamaria does not ever feel the same way. Just as she'd raised her own girls.
"Your hair is absolutely beautiful sweet girl. And you want to know a secret? At your age, it grows super fast." Winking, she plucks a chunk of her own hair and tickles the ends against Kamaria's blushing cheeks, overwhelmed by affection. "So maybe it'll even grow down to your feet!" Eyes wide as she looks the girl up and down as if envisioning it.
Her honesty is appreciated, though Hotaru already desires to teach her some manner of secrecy to keep her safe. Torchline isn't the greatest place, and she's grateful the girl had not wandered into the presence of a more unsavory individual. "You're right, class can be quite boring. How about we go for a ride instead?" Grin slow and mischievous as it unfurls on her lips, turning to tilt her chin at Atlas meaningfully.
"Your hair is absolutely beautiful sweet girl. And you want to know a secret? At your age, it grows super fast." Winking, she plucks a chunk of her own hair and tickles the ends against Kamaria's blushing cheeks, overwhelmed by affection. "So maybe it'll even grow down to your feet!" Eyes wide as she looks the girl up and down as if envisioning it.
Her honesty is appreciated, though Hotaru already desires to teach her some manner of secrecy to keep her safe. Torchline isn't the greatest place, and she's grateful the girl had not wandered into the presence of a more unsavory individual. "You're right, class can be quite boring. How about we go for a ride instead?" Grin slow and mischievous as it unfurls on her lips, turning to tilt her chin at Atlas meaningfully.
come what may
she would be wild, untrammeled, free
she would be wild, untrammeled, free
