black hearted angels sunk me
Hotaru Kaito
the Valkyrie
Masseuse / Headmistress

Age: 33 | Height: 5'2 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 3 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 54 - Luck: 40 - Int:
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 2,242 | Total: 6,169
MP: 9427
#1
my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
After everything that has passed, she'd like to say that she storms across the Bridge like a woman of fire, fearless and unhurt. A paragon of self-sufficiency and power. Instead she walks slowly, measured and hesitant at times, wondering if her mother ever felt the same way when her father hurt her, abandoned her. It's a bitter thought, but in reality she will never know. Her mother had died when she was still so young to the world, she hadn't even been crowned yet. Any advice she clings to in that moment crossing the bridge is her own, hands clenching around the letter that had summoned her here. Painful in its sincerity, just as scalding in its request. Seeing Sunjata is the last thing she wants to do, especially after her breakdown with Deimos. It had relieved her of the poison in her veins, had bled her dry and allowed her to find some kind of stability at the lowest she has fallen in some time. At first she had thought there was nowhere to go but up. Isn't that how these things usually work?

And then she gets this.

Hotaru had read over it enough times to blur her vision, to memorize every stroke of ink he'd left on the page. Even now she can't truthfully say how long she sat there, wondering if she should even go. Her thoughts had drifted like an untethered balloon from emotion to emotion. Bitter; doesn't he have another woman to occupy his time now? Heartbroken; can I face him now, knowing how I fucked up and fell too fast? Angry; how dare he ask to meet me after all he has done? It had been enough to give her whiplash, and she had slept fitfully that night. Haunted by memories of his calloused hands and devilish smile, the soft timbre of his voice as he confessed the darkest of his past to her, the gentle way he had held her when she had done the same. Morning had not brought further clarity on the matter, and yet...here she is, inevitably. Unable to leave him waiting alone, no matter how badly she wants to.

Is she prepared to hear the bullshit excuses he's sure to deliver? No, in reality she would prefer to show up and make a few snide comments of her own to make herself feel stronger, then leave before he ever gets the chance to dig his hands into the remains of her heart and pull it apart. She can almost hear Deimos in her head, softly reprimanding her for such a decision. Hotaru nearly turns back at that alone, hesitating, but then her eyes find a shape sitting on the edge of the bridge. The silence is stifling, stealing every breath from her lungs until she can only take shallow inhales, trying and failing to find the courage she needs to get this over with. But she is no woman of weakness, she has had her heart shredded by men she has loved far more than her brief interest in Sunjata. She has survived the worst of their cruelties, has walked away from them all with her head held high, and she will do so again today. No matter how much of a farce it may be.

As she approaches, she flicks her hair away from her face, impassive and imperious as it is. She does not bother to sit beside him, prefers what minor high ground she has for the moment. Clearly he has heard her approach, with the bridge so empty and the day so quiet. One brow lifts expectantly as she crosses her arms - an unintentional but soothing display of how on guard she feels - as she looks down on the pathetic looking man slumped staring over the edge of the bridge into the fog. "I'm here. What is it you wanted to say." Far from a question and more of a demand, at least she can be proud of how level her voice remains.
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#2
don't you know i'm no good for you?
He’d debated on sending the note after he’d written it, debated whether she’d even show – but he has to try, after finding that rock with Jigano, the one that reminded him so clearly of her eyes, of her skin, of how he envisions her taste, and how he can put it into a piece of something she might like, something she could stab him with if she wanted to, push him off the edge of the bone bridge and put him out of his misery. He stares at the fog beneath his feet, shuffling his boots idly against the sides of the bridge, box in hand, waiting and wondering if she’ll show.

Part of him hopes that she doesn’t.

Part of him hopes she does.

His trip to Halo, his rendezvous with Maea, his poor life choices and being unable to cope with any of them leading to further and further drifting down the shadowed hint of the corners of his heart. He’s permanently partially shifted, now, horns wrapping around his head, teeth elongated in fangs, hands tipped in dark claws that tap idly against the wood of the box that shelters the dagger he’d had made, with the stone supplying a brilliant sheen to the handle.

And he hears her, head lifting ever so slightly but not turning to face her, because he doesn’t think he can. His heart sinks, stomach burns, ring taps against the wood of the box as he shifts it along his lap. “I got you a gift and an apology.” He says, hoarsely, deep and rough and exhausted – so sick and still pushing his luck, wiggling his legs a bit more along the great expanse of nothing. He bites down on the inside of his cheek, granting some courage to turn to her and let his darkened steel gaze flit over her, box extended out for her to grab and open and see what’s inside.

Perhaps end him with it too.
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Hotaru Kaito
the Valkyrie
Masseuse / Headmistress

Age: 33 | Height: 5'2 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 3 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 54 - Luck: 40 - Int:
Played by: Brit Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,242 | Total: 6,169
MP: 9427
#3
my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
Horns curl through his hair, and though his gaze does not linger on her long - coward, her mind spits - she can at least see the claws on his fingers when he speaks and offers a box to her. Though her heterochromatic gaze falls to the proffered gift for a moment, they flit back up immediately to stare at the side of his face. Mulling over the cadence of his voice, the rough rasp around each word. She recalls with great detail her own thoughts sitting across from Deimos, that despite how much he had hurt her with his actions, that she was still reluctant to enact revenge. Knowing so much about him and how much he has already been hurt stills her normally judicious hand from seeking physical retribution. Instead her palm comes to his wrist, bypassing the box and firmly wrapping around what she can. Face still frigid, mightily attempting to keep her soulful eyes the same.

"You aren't well, stand up." Let me see you. Even now, faced with the impending opportunity, her mind is scattered and panicked with the inevitable. Scared to see him so solemn and sincere, fearing that it may crack her resolve into nothing and leave her as just another victim of his self-flagellating crusade. Just another broken heart on the trail to the noose that he walks so staunchly.

Her other hand comes to grasp the box, tentative. But she refuses to look inside, not with his wrist still in her grip, not when concern still festers unfairly in her ribcage. Like ivy, clinging to the vesicles of her heart no matter how many times she rips them out by the root. "So far I only see a gift, not an apology." Though her tone is mild, there is a darkness that lingers there, a well of hurt and anger that promises to drown him in his own foolish flood of a title if he says the wrong thing. Too many times has she been kicked down and hurt. Already he has brought her down too far, she'll not let him dig a grave for her as well.
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#4
don't you know i'm no good for you?
She grasps his wrist, enough of a surprise for him that he lifts his head up to look over the wide expanse of the valley below them – not wanting to show her, not wanting her to see just how damaged he’d become. The drowning Flood. He is not well, not in the slightest, and he’s made so many mistakes within the last couple of months, that he doesn’t even know where to start. But she keeps her hold on his wrist, and he thinks for a moment the time she’d chained it to a bed, when things had been easier, when things had been better – and he exhales a quiet rasping sigh, shifting toward her, but not standing – swinging one leg over the edge of the bone bridge back to solid ground as he lifts his horned head and his chin to look at her.

Shadows hover within his eyes, bags beneath them. A paleness to him of overdoing it, of drinking in Halo when he shouldn’t have been, the surprising sobriety he faces now with it all, and he lets her inspect him despite how much he wishes to shy away from her judgement, from her face as she takes the box but doesn’t open it, telling him that she only sees a gift and no apology. And to that, that’s absolutely true. He inhales another rattling and short breath, tilting his head slightly, refraining from grabbing her back, but looking down at where their hands connect, long enough to see the silver band around her wrist that matches his.

There’s a weak smile that crosses his face, though large enough that she could likely see the fangs if she looked hard enough. “I’m sorry.” He says roughly, refusing to look at her face, focusing on that silver band he’d given her. He doesn’t touch her, just lets her grip his wrist, his attention through that, not sure if he could handle a shock to his system in this very moment. “I made… Terrible mistakes, and I wish I could go back and change them, but Fiat Lux and getting sick and everything just… It all went to shit. And I’m sorry.I’m sorry I’m so weak.
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Hotaru Kaito
the Valkyrie
Masseuse / Headmistress

Age: 33 | Height: 5'2 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 3 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 54 - Luck: 40 - Int:
Played by: Brit Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,242 | Total: 6,169
MP: 9427
#5
my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
If he thinks his pitiful countenance and limp attempts to turn but not stand as she had instructed will endear him to her, he is wrong. She clings to this affront like a shield, wielding it against him like a sword, and yet still finds herself feeling bare and shaken when his eyes meet hers. He looks positively pitiful, and though it tugs on her heartstrings she refuses to let it show on her face. He has nobody to blame but himself for his bad decisions, this meeting already shaping up to be one of them. "You are married to the Dean of the Medical College and still can't bother to take care of whatever is ailing you," she scolds softly, perhaps a tad too softly for the bite she wants to imitate. "You think this is how I want to see you?" Weak? Broken? She wants to see him hurt for what he has made her feel, but this? This only makes her scoff, because she knows he is capable of so much more. So much better. It is easier to feel contemptuous than to feel the urge to draw him into her arms and secret him away from the mess he has made.

Sunjata does not meet her eyes, though his gaze lingers on the bracelet still adorning her wrist. Of course she had not removed it, no matter how he had hurt and vexed her. The Advocates may be under his reign, but she will not abandon their cause so quickly and make herself the paragon of a jilted lover. It would be disgraceful.

She is distracted by his weak smile, the rattle of his lungs, and her face twitches minutely as she tries to reign in her concern. The apology that follows is similarly weak, and she drops his wrist as if it has scalded her, offended by this pitiful excuse for an apology that he has offered her. Lightning flickers in her eyes, and the impartial set of her lips twitches into the shadow of a snarl, the dark sea within her beginning to grow choppy with these childish words. "And are you intending to fix any of these mistakes, or do you simply want to broadcast your self-imposed suffering on any remotely willing audience member?" The crack of her words is harsher than she wanted, and Hotaru clings to her composure, forcing herself to take a steadying breath lest she kick him right off the edge of the damn bridge. "What are you sorry for, Sunjata? For not listening to my advice? For continuing this sham of a marriage you have with Phoebe? For hurting me?" Her voice wavers in a condemning display, but at least it does not break. "Apologies are empty. They are just pretty words, and I have fallen for enough of them from you. So what is it you want me to say? That you are forgiven? Because you aren't." Forgiveness is not in her nature. Sunjata had enjoyed her chaotic, powerful nature. If he shies from it now, she will know that he never deserved her or Lusea, too hyped up on his own ego trip to realize that he was losing out on two wonderful women. "What do you want from me?" Because she needs to know, and it comes out wretched and desperate as she clutches the box to her chest like it could shield her from everything she feels as she looks down upon his dilapidated form.
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#6
don't you know i'm no good for you?
You are married to the Dean of the Medical College…” She doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before he’s grimacing beneath the scolding. To think that he had wanted her to see him like this is both in part amusing to him as well as enough to shame him, and he clenches his jaw, before taking another rattling sigh, another shake of his head. “It has to go through it’s course, Hotaru.” He gruffly replies to her, gaze lifting to reveal the honesty of it. “It’s in my lungs, I got it when I was suffocating in that creature that attacked the Festival.” He explains. “Loren healed me after I got out and it still developed, and I’m trying.” Sort of. Had he been trying, he wouldn’t have given into the barbs from Phoebe in Halo, wouldn’t have overexerted himself in the river in the Greatwood.

He was back on the spiral of self-destruction, but under a different name. No smoking, no drinking, no whoring to pass the days. Just left alone with his thoughts, his frustration, his spite towards his wife. And it never mixed well, never melded well, and it never would. And so he stares at that silver bracelet on her wrist, focusing on it like a lifeline as he offers a broken apology, only for her to drop his hand like he’d burned her. And he had, in more ways than one. He’d burned everyone involved, a spiraling flame of self-destruction, vibrant and bright and beautiful from afar, devastating when directly involved. And he’d involved everyone he’d cared about.

The question of if he were intending to fix the mistakes does have him slipping his other leg over the edge of the bone bridge, to stand and face her, though he still leans against the bone bridge ever so slightly. Her suggestion does cause him to run a hand through his hair, shifting and breaking and faltering within himself, the hand with the ring on it snagging at a horn before his gaze rises to meet her and he folds his arms along his chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He begins, unsteadily, before she tells him that he’s not forgiven – and his brow raises.

He hadn’t asked for forgiveness, had fully intended on burning with the blame until it ended him, fully deserving of it. But he can’t help but to tear his gaze away from her, lip curling in a small sneer. “I wanted to apologize for making shit mistakes, for doing exactly as you said I would, for falling for her tricks and giving in. I don’t want this marriage, I don’t want her, I don’t want the enchantments to these fucking rings.” He snaps with a slight pant of breath, fanged teeth clicking with his frustration.

He looks back at her then, with something shattering within his gaze. “I thought I could help her, but as per usual I got cornered and I had too much pride to give into her when she knew I’d back off. I agreed because she knew I wouldn’t, and then she went through with it just to spite me for it. That’s why it was only three days. That’s why I didn’t come and see you, because I didn’t know how to explain it. She gets under my skin and I do stupid things because of it, and every single day that I wake up –” He shudders for a moment, pausing to catch his breath, knowing that words aren’t his strong suit, knowing that he’s not good with them, but he has to tell her even if it makes her open that wooden box and stabs him with the gift within.

– I realize it should have been you. It should have always been you.” He stares at her there, laid bare – she can see beneath the masks, the multitude, and she always has been. Her secrets, her past, the things she’s gone through would always be a secret with him too. That it isn’t his intention to ruin her, or break her, or any of that. That she had been the one to care for him the most after Lusea’s death, had made him realize how easily manipulated he was, and he had still fallen for it.

If anything, she didn’t deserve him, how strong and powerful she was when it came to handling her own life, when he fell back into old habits of picking up the pieces.

"Open it."
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Hotaru Kaito
the Valkyrie
Masseuse / Headmistress

Age: 33 | Height: 5'2 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 3 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 54 - Luck: 40 - Int:
Played by: Brit Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,242 | Total: 6,169
MP: 9427
#7
my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
The way he says her name makes her shiver, and she wishes he hadn't let it roll off his tongue at all. Wishes she could cut it out from that downturned mouth to make sure he can never say her name again in such a way. Never make her knees feel weak when her given title hums through his throat. "If you were the type to have any kind of self-worth or self-preservation, you would seek out continued magical healing. Perhaps godly healing. Don't patronize me." Sunjata is a very lucky man, and though she does not think he's very intelligent she will at least call him lucky, because if he had told her of his own stupidity in Halo and the river she probably would have kicked him over the edge on sheer principle. It was, however, quite stupid of the man to want their little reunion party here, where she could so easily murder him and make it look like suicide.

And it is very tempting indeed when his pitiful voice rises in supplication, and she can't help how she takes a step away from him as if to put distance between herself and the hurt he seems to cause her just by existing. "But you did. Your intentions don't erase that." And when his brow rises, his teeth clacking in frustration, she merely twitches her own lip in a pale imitation of his fangs and her free hand dances with electricity. She does not fear him, and his patronizing tone will only edge him closer to the realization of her Sparta-kicking fantasies.

His rambling holds her attention temporarily at least, and she grits her teeth and lets the words wash over her. She wants to comment so badly, can scarcely hold her tongue as he pauses before continuing on in a rush, as if the words will escape him if he does not spit them out faster than his brain can register. And it would not hurt so bad if not for what he finishes with, an exact parallel to what she had said to Deimos as she had clung to his hand and cried in a way she hasn't since the death of her children. "Maybe it should have," she agrees quietly, voice trembling. "But it wasn't." Here it is iron, forgoing the betrayal of her vocal chords for a weight that she hopes chokes the bastard. "You went back to her, after I begged you to not even see her. You gave into her manipulation, after I pointed out that she was playing you better than any bard could play a lute," she accuses sharply, not letting him distract her with the intimacy of the phrase. No matter how she wishes this was a romantic novel with a happy ending, it isn't, and she cannot fall into his arms and beg him to leave his wife for her instead. She will not debase herself in such a manner, even if it feels like dragging a knife down her ribs with every scathing words.

"She never deserved your help in the first place! You played right into her hands, and she will continue her charade of tears and helplessness because you will fall for it every. Fucking. Time." No dragon alive can mimic the hiss of her tone, the tidal wave of lava that seems to lift beneath her vocals. Hotaru knows it's not his fault that he is prone to being manipulated, but it does nothing to ease her anger over his frank stupidity when she had warned him, shown him evidence of the way Phoebe was cruelly using him for her own ends.

She is still shaking when he bids her to open the box, and it takes a few moments of deep, trembling breaths before she can. Inside it is an intricate dagger, well-crafted and shining in the summer light, clearly new. And in the hilt a stone, a shade that she knows far too well as she has seen it in every lake and mirror since her birth. She wants to throw it over the edge of the Bridge if only to spite him and his attempt at buying her forgiveness, or whatever he seeks with this. Instead she runs a finger over the edge of the blade, watching blood well across the tip before she flicks it away and closes the top of the box without caring if the blood stains it. "Thank you, it's beautiful." And though it's sincere, there's still a stiffness to her voice, still far too tense from their previous topic of conversation to express her gratitude. Unsure if he deserves it in the first place.
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#8
don't you know i'm no good for you?
He lifts his chin slightly when she begins to speak, to talk of continued magical healing or godly healing, and why should he? What has he done to deserve it? Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing to crawl to Safrin’s shrine and beg her to heal him, to fix him because he’s broken and wrong. Magical healing? He wasn’t sure anyone would be willing to now. Tenuous ties with Loren, soon to be tenuous with Jigano, and well – at the end of the day, perhaps he deserved to suffer and drown for everything he’s done.

So he shakes his head to her at that, the bite in her tone. And maybe he’s just spiraled too far down the rabbit hole of his own self misery, his own sorrow to see the light anymore. Perhaps the shadows have invaded too far and he can’t see the worth in having himself around. He’d tried it once, here, at this very spot – chickened out at the last moment. He’s not so sure he’ll stop now. “What self-worth?” He huffs, clamping his jaw down with a small audible click. He’s a sinking stone among her hurricane, and he doesn’t deserve the way she looks at him, the way she still tries to save him.

I know I did.” He tells her, a hint softer than the war raging within him would suggest. And he runs a clawed hand through his hair once more, pausing to tug at one of the horns as he exhales loudly, frustrated and annoyed with himself and how shit he’d been, how he continues to be. And so instead, he goes on his own tirade, shadowed and dark gaze lingering on her despite how much he hates this, much like how she hated opening up to him. By the end, he’s panting lightly, trying to keep his lungs from seizing as he leans back against the side of the bone bridge again, letting the wind ruffle his hair, his shirt.

And she was right. He had gone back to her, after Hotaru begged, and when she brings up the manipulation once more, his muscle twitches lightly and he flinches internally with a tight draw of an inhale. But she’s right, because that’s what always happened. He’d become too much, he’d become overbearing and overpowering, and Phoebe would back him down in the only way she knew how. To chip away at him brick by brick. He hates it, hates everything about this. And he flinches with the hiss to her tone, arms still folded across his chest, claws clicking slightly as he looks away from her once more.

I felt responsible, Hotaru.” He says quietly. “I was in the thing that attacked Fiat Lux. I was in it when it crashed through the ice wall and killed Aoife, killed Phoebe's nephews.” He clenches his jaw, shaking his head. “All I wanted was to try and make things right, and I went and ruined it again.” And he’d effectively fucked them all up in one go. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed it, to be honest. But here he was, here it was, how stupid and easily manipulated he was when it came down to it.

But she opens the box, she thanks him and he can’t help but let himself stare at her as she closes the lid to it, hearing the sincerity in her voice, hearing the stiffness too. And he goes to dig himself a deeper grave, because that’s the only thing he’s remotely good at. “You’re the only one to see the real me.” He offers quietly. “Every shitty piece and yet you still tried to help me when I’ve done nothing to deserve it. And I’m sorry, that you trusted me with such dark and terrible things that happened to you. I never wanted to be another one that hurt you.” Despite the way she might deny it, he can see it in her stance, in the way she stands and talks to him – that she’d cared, so incredibly deep… And he had too, he still does, but he’s lost it all in his self-destruction, his negative self-worth.

All he'd wanted to do was love her in return.
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Hotaru Kaito
the Valkyrie
Masseuse / Headmistress

Age: 33 | Height: 5'2 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 3 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 54 - Luck: 40 - Int:
Played by: Brit Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,242 | Total: 6,169
MP: 9427
#9
my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
"What self-worth?" Hotaru scoffs, staring down at the man she had found herself drawn to from the very moment they met. She had thought him just as powerful and sure of himself as she was, and clearly she had been wrong. "Clearly," she says, not even bothering to conceal her disappointment in him. What does it matter if she's being condescending or cruel? Is that not what he had found attractive in her? Both of their facades are crumbling, but at least she has the decency to retain a certain amount of pride in herself. Even the softness of his voice as he concedes to hurting her does not win him favors. At least not visibly. It's a simple truth and one that she won't give him leeway for for recognizing aloud.

What little fight he has left is just as disappointing as his appearance, what few points he tries to make flimsy at best. "And her own efforts in that battle? Do those matter at all? You could use the same logic to say that Phoebe's weakness is what killed her own nephews." A point that Hotaru will cruelly use herself, because she doesn't give a single fuck about the woman. Yes, a child's death is a tragedy, and one she has experienced far too often, but she's not going to give Sunjata even the slightest inch to try and wriggle his wormlike way out of this. "You were not that creature. You did not direct it towards the Festival. This is just you, taking on every little thing to further depress yourself, to convince yourself you are worth nothing." Hotaru is not fooled by his pretty words and insistence that he is a martyr.

At least he admits to appreciating that, or at least recognizing it. This apology is at least more meaningful for what little it is still worth. "Until you realize your inherent worth, until you work on fixing these flaws that you let eat you up, my attempts to help you mean nothing. What I told you, what I entrusted you with, is only spat on the more you prove yourself to be unfit to have learned them." Her voice is rigid with tension, with the control she has to exert to keep herself calm. "You tried so hard to escape your father, to make Lusea proud. You've made it no further out from under his thumb than when you first joined the fight against him. You've merely traded one master for another." A cruelty, to use Lusea and his father against him, but a truth she wholeheartedly believes he needs to hear. That he is no stronger, no better, than when he had been controlled and manipulated by his father.
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#10
don't you know i'm no good for you?
Her disappointment is different from everyone else’s, and part of it hurts worse than the comments and whispers he’d received since that day. The amount that Hotaru knows of him, the amount he knows of her cutting through all mistakes, all regrets, in favor for something a bit more sad, a bit more… Well, it was different. She knew him far more personally than most. She knew he fell for things like this. She knew he was a weak, foolish, stupid man.

And yet somehow, she’d still loved him for it all, had hoped he’d make better decisions. But he hadn’t.

When she speaks again, his lip feathers slightly as he sighs a raspy sound. “I didn’t see her efforts. She brought Frey. That’s all I know.” He offers with a shrug – but certainly Phoebe hadn’t done enough either. Certainly he’d done his best and got the short end of the stick. But he was too blind to see it, to realize what was happening. Again, manipulated and changed and made to do things that others wanted at the cost of everything that he wanted.

He wants to tell her that is is worth nothing. But the minute his mind forms around the words, he can hear them in his father’s voice, in their native tongue, echoing through a canyon and he grits his teeth instead – shadows in his eyes darkening even further. What he needs to do is take Hotaru’s advice, because it’s the opposite of what he’s grown up to think, been raised to believe. And she’s likely right.

Still, he doesn’t know what to say, taking the barbs and the daggers to the chest as if she’s stealing the air out of his lungs. He wishes she is. But all he can do is run a hand through his hair, exhale another rasping sigh, understanding it and seeing it for his own eyes more and more every day, the way he tries to rebel and the midwife reels him back in. He doesn’t know when he got to that point… Where he couldn’t see it even if it were clear as day.

He hates it.

He clenches his jaw and turns halfway away from her with nothing else to say. “I hope you like your gift, maybe you could put it to good use.Maybe you can put it through me. It’s a rough response, a head tilt toward her, heart thundering and breaking and gods it was all so painful. Without another heartbeat of a second, Sunjata shifts to his avian form, hovering in the air momentarily before he flies over her, to follow the extent of the bone bridge toward somewhere, somewhere that wasn’t here.

- FIN for Sunjata!
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Hotaru Kaito
the Valkyrie
Masseuse / Headmistress

Age: 33 | Height: 5'2 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 3 - Strg: 38 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 54 - Luck: 40 - Int:
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 2,242 | Total: 6,169
MP: 9427
#11
my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
At least this time he does not try to object, to fight her when she knows she has the logical high ground. Instead she cuts her gaze away from him, staring out into the rolling mist, visage implacable stone. Part of her can't help but levy the blame onto the horrendous woman she already despises, but even so there had been many fighters there that day. Sunjata's guilt and desire to place the blame entirely on his shoulders is foolish and unrealistic. "Even if the guilt was divided between all fighters, it would not be enough to prompt you sacrificing everything to someone else who is just as equally to blame." All that she was say on the matter any further, because clearly Sunjata is too ridiculous and brainwashed to listen to anything like reason.

There is nothing more to say after that, and the maiden merely returns her gaze to stare down upon him as his reactions are laid out before her. Clearly this has all been too much - for him, for her, she can't really tell anymore - and he slowly stands. Departure lingers all around him, and Hotaru can't find it in herself to engage him, to even bother debasing herself enough to beg him to stay. As he turns away, she clutches the box to stop herself from doing something foolish like running to grab him, to ask him to run away with her and forget all of this nonsense. To beg him to fix things, to choose her, for real this time.

Instead he turns and shifts, flies away into the blinding beam of sunlight overhead, and she blames its burning brilliance for the tears that wet her cheeks in his absence as she watches him go.

{Fin}
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
Hotaru has a passive magic that makes her glow with an internal golden light; it makes her appear youthful and her hair seems to look like moving sunlight. Can only subtly illuminate dark spaces.


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