Hotaru
Roses are red and I wish I could see them bloom
But all I see are orange hues
"No peeking, remember?" Her voice is a bit muffled from behind Sunjata's shoulder as she stands as far on her toes as she can, arms stretched high to stubbornly keep her hands over Sunjata's eyes despite knowing he'd do as she asked regardless. It's an awkward, graceless shuffle through the door of the brothel room, but anyone who catches a glimpse of it is summarily shut out behind its wooden exterior. But all I see are orange hues
Beneath his feet, Sunjata will feel the give of sand immediately, and as attuned as she knows him to be to his senses, the rest will come quickly; the crackle of firewood, faint smoke, an ocean breeze. Only once she has made him wait a few agonizing moments does she release him, hands dropping away at the same moment she kisses his shoulderblade to conceal her rising smile. Okay, you can look.
The bonfire is moderately sized, just for the two of them, and it stands on Torchline's beach regardless of the fact they're hundreds of miles from her shores. Her hand finds the Flood's lower back, idly stroking up and down as she waits for him to take in the rest. A large silver platter full of a rather eclectic collection of food, a blanket already spread out next to the fire, and a skinny black box betraying nothing. The moon is absent in the sky above, and dark hues of aurora are present instead - an intentional thing on her end, not only removing all memories of Safrin but combining Halo's skies with Torchline's sands. A compromise the real world could never know. "Happy LongNight," she murmurs against Sunjata's shoulder, too sure of them both for things like nerves and doubt, confident he would be appreciative of her efforts if nothing else.
Now you’re stuck in my head and I wish I could sing the blues
But all I hear are orange tunes, and all I do is think of you
But all I hear are orange tunes, and all I do is think of you
