Hotaru
Deimos’ hovering is endearing, and in no way frustrates Hotaru. In many ways she’s grateful for it. Being back in Torchline is dangerous for so many reasons, and she trusts him to keep an eye on her when she cannot lean on her own judgment. His closeness also helped to chase away the cold that seeks to live inside her these days, shards of ice that even Torchline’s blazing sun cannot melt away. Still, he cannot be with her every moment, not with her various sworn commitments and affairs to be handled. After having retrieved more ash for her spa from Apopo, she’d ridden into town on Atlas to do some shopping; excluding Deimos this time more for his sake than anything else.
The stalls are not as busy as she’d expected, though when she asks a merchant it’s made clear that the nearby school has a field trip today and many vendors who otherwise worked during the lesson hours had volunteered to go along to keep an eye on the children. Misreading her reaction, the vendor had hurried to assure her that the trip was ending very soon and as such the other sellers would be returning and reopening their tables. With a word of gratitude, Hotaru had wandered away to peruse the wares of those who remained, trying to ignore the way the ice spiders out in tendrils inside her chest.
Atlas moves ahead, helping cut through the shoppers with his large body to make way for his diminutive bonded. Dark head lowered and loose, hunting idly for dropped treats and spilt oats beneath the tables.
The stalls are not as busy as she’d expected, though when she asks a merchant it’s made clear that the nearby school has a field trip today and many vendors who otherwise worked during the lesson hours had volunteered to go along to keep an eye on the children. Misreading her reaction, the vendor had hurried to assure her that the trip was ending very soon and as such the other sellers would be returning and reopening their tables. With a word of gratitude, Hotaru had wandered away to peruse the wares of those who remained, trying to ignore the way the ice spiders out in tendrils inside her chest.
Atlas moves ahead, helping cut through the shoppers with his large body to make way for his diminutive bonded. Dark head lowered and loose, hunting idly for dropped treats and spilt oats beneath the tables.
come what may
she would be wild, untrammeled, free
she would be wild, untrammeled, free
