moral of the story is, i will gut you if i need to
i will carve my way out
Having no title, no job, no expectations of her, would sound like a well-earned vacation to anyone else. To Hotaru, it is the equivalent of a death sentence.
She is a deposed Queen, a woman of action, a born thief and chaos-child. This peace and accord is disgustingly boring. What is she expected to do in the face of all this kinship? Tend the house? It sours her mouth to even think it. Part of her, distant and still full of fire and gasoline, is tempted to aim for regency again. The other remembers how much it had cost her in the end, and is perhaps okay with the idea of...settling down. Taking a well-deserved break.
But sitting still for too long only gives the Valkyrie time alone with her thoughts. Memories best left buried, the vividness unbearable. Watching her children be killed, be lost in various rifts and portals, to be helpless and held back from joining them in the afterlife.
Shaking herself out of the spiral of thoughts, the woman heads out into the familiar environment of snow and ice. Her hair a spot of gold and summer in the landscape of bloodless cold. The bag on her hip is the only guiding goal, and so she simply picks a direction and begins to walk, unsure of what it is she seeks except a purpose. It's easy to fall into the habit of plucking as she goes; winter berries, stubbornly dry pieces of tinder, moss, whatever it is she thinks will be useful in the coming season. Until her ears - still so dull in comparison to her previous hearing, but sharp with constant guard and attention - catch the sound of footsteps.
It's habit to reach for a weapon, only to frown at herself when she finds none. Hotaru may mock the inhabitants of this land for their softness, but the Valkyrie is still a distrusting woman at heart. Stalking the noise is easy enough, but what lies at the end of the trail only inspires a huff of a laugh from her mouth, cheeks red with chill and rising mischief. Bending down to scoop some snow into her hands, she forms it into a ball and sneaks closer, taking her time and timing her steps with his until she's close enough to throw the snowball in an arc at Deimos' back.
She is a deposed Queen, a woman of action, a born thief and chaos-child. This peace and accord is disgustingly boring. What is she expected to do in the face of all this kinship? Tend the house? It sours her mouth to even think it. Part of her, distant and still full of fire and gasoline, is tempted to aim for regency again. The other remembers how much it had cost her in the end, and is perhaps okay with the idea of...settling down. Taking a well-deserved break.
But sitting still for too long only gives the Valkyrie time alone with her thoughts. Memories best left buried, the vividness unbearable. Watching her children be killed, be lost in various rifts and portals, to be helpless and held back from joining them in the afterlife.
Shaking herself out of the spiral of thoughts, the woman heads out into the familiar environment of snow and ice. Her hair a spot of gold and summer in the landscape of bloodless cold. The bag on her hip is the only guiding goal, and so she simply picks a direction and begins to walk, unsure of what it is she seeks except a purpose. It's easy to fall into the habit of plucking as she goes; winter berries, stubbornly dry pieces of tinder, moss, whatever it is she thinks will be useful in the coming season. Until her ears - still so dull in comparison to her previous hearing, but sharp with constant guard and attention - catch the sound of footsteps.
It's habit to reach for a weapon, only to frown at herself when she finds none. Hotaru may mock the inhabitants of this land for their softness, but the Valkyrie is still a distrusting woman at heart. Stalking the noise is easy enough, but what lies at the end of the trail only inspires a huff of a laugh from her mouth, cheeks red with chill and rising mischief. Bending down to scoop some snow into her hands, she forms it into a ball and sneaks closer, taking her time and timing her steps with his until she's close enough to throw the snowball in an arc at Deimos' back.
with only my teeth
HOTARU
