Perhaps normal people do not plan getting plastered into their vacations down to the night and the events that would follow, but Hotaru and Deimos had never been normal. For all they may share a glass by the fireplace, neither is particularly inclined to drunkenness or dependency.
Hotaru is not hard to get past tipsy. Not surprising, all things considered. With her incredibly petite form and how rarely she ever seriously drinks, at least she's a cheap date. Curled into the bench seat in the corner, shoes already kicked off and hair spilling across the table as she leans over it to curl around her drink, she is both the picture of making herself at home and a budding storm. He had sensed it in her before, and though her mind is too far gone to speculate, she wouldn't be surprised if Deimos could see the tension building in real time.
Moroseness is the first step. A deep, abiding heartbreak that is harder to choke down than the burning liquid she imbibes. Long, delicate fingers tap against her newly empty glass, electricity playing over the ends and lighting up the crystal as she stares unblinking at the sparks. "Luxere don't particularly like me you know," she says out of nowhere. "'s my lightning, or so the natives say. Dark. Apparently magic has categories here." Disdain drips from her lips as she gives an inelegant snort. "How is it dark? It's an element. It's nature. It has no morality, no intentions." None but those ascribed by foolish humans. "What do they even prefer? What is considered light to them?" The natural hadn't told her, Hotaru had been too poleaxed in the moment to ask. Lifting her gaze, Hotaru's face suddenly crumples a little. "Why does my magic make me dark, and not the blood on my hands?"
Hotaru is not hard to get past tipsy. Not surprising, all things considered. With her incredibly petite form and how rarely she ever seriously drinks, at least she's a cheap date. Curled into the bench seat in the corner, shoes already kicked off and hair spilling across the table as she leans over it to curl around her drink, she is both the picture of making herself at home and a budding storm. He had sensed it in her before, and though her mind is too far gone to speculate, she wouldn't be surprised if Deimos could see the tension building in real time.
Moroseness is the first step. A deep, abiding heartbreak that is harder to choke down than the burning liquid she imbibes. Long, delicate fingers tap against her newly empty glass, electricity playing over the ends and lighting up the crystal as she stares unblinking at the sparks. "Luxere don't particularly like me you know," she says out of nowhere. "'s my lightning, or so the natives say. Dark. Apparently magic has categories here." Disdain drips from her lips as she gives an inelegant snort. "How is it dark? It's an element. It's nature. It has no morality, no intentions." None but those ascribed by foolish humans. "What do they even prefer? What is considered light to them?" The natural hadn't told her, Hotaru had been too poleaxed in the moment to ask. Lifting her gaze, Hotaru's face suddenly crumples a little. "Why does my magic make me dark, and not the blood on my hands?"
Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
Let weakness disappear, there's nobody but me here
Let weakness disappear, there's nobody but me here
