Hotaru
nothing's fair in love and war
Quietly she allows him to wrestle with his emotions, her own face guileless and revealing the sincerity of her regret even if she will not speak any farther on it. Neither are the types to linger, to snarl and gnash against past mistakes when there are current affairs to be handled. When he finally concedes, a reluctant disarming made evident in posture before prose, Hotaru moves closer and reaches to place her hand upon his forearm. A creature of touch, expressing her remorse with physical contact, a silent coming together after the brief spat. “You’ve never asked it of me,” she agrees softly. “But I’ve been…wrong, ever since Atlas. My head isn’t straight.” The spirit had shown her that. A little too late, but she needed to see all the same that she was spiraling. Perhaps not as visibly as others, but still slipping downward in the wake of her companion’s death.
Inspecting the paper, she hums and plucks the writing instrument when he has discarded it. “I know just the person. Someone equally invested, and with the power we need.” Her hand writes the name in elegant scrawl. Staring down at the dark strokes, she grits her teeth, jaw feathering at the mere mention of the unnamed Arbiter’s continued existence. “I can’t afford to kill her while I’m there under investigation.” It grinds reluctantly from between her teeth. “Three days tops. If I’m not home in three days -” she taps her finger to the name. “This will be my third backup then.”
