HOTARU
Her own face slowly shutters at his lack of a positive response, permafrost already inching around the torn edges of her heart to prepare against any further damage. For all his words may be a compliment to any other, to her it is a piercing arrow. All the same she forces her chin higher. Habit and self-preservation more than natural haughtiness. "I can," she agrees softly, only loud enough to be heard. "Someone has to." His sorrow only makes her dig deeper into herself, the parting words the equivalent of a cornered wounded animal growling from its den. She doesn't mean the various implications - not against him at least - but it hurts to be reminded that she has to bandage her own wounds all over again.
Her eyes never leave him as he strips though. Some sort of self-inflicted misery, or a last ditch attempt to commit the entirety of his body to memory. There's a spark of alarm that flickers across her face at his admission that it had hurt him, but Nate is already moving forward into the water. Watching with bated breath, she only exhales when he continues onward with no sign of pain or injury to be seen even with her keenly searching gaze glued to his face. After that, well...she still doesn't look away. Can't bring herself to so much as blink as the space between them is whittled away to nearly nothing. Hotaru would love to be optimistic. To hope. But just as hope doesn't feed hungry mouths, it's incapable of stitching up wounds; inflicts them more often than not. Nate has never let her fall, has always had his hands there to catch and stabilize her when she stumbles. But now, those hands do not reach for her. So Hotaru does what she must, and does not let herself step off that edge. She won't survive the freefall.
Trailing notions bring a tired, clumsy smile to her lips. "Had some demons I needed to face here." Ones he is all too familiar with considering he'd been there when Wessex carried her into their home, practically catatonic with grief. Looking down at the water, she skims her fingers against the surface, unwilling to stare into his face. "I've been staying with Deimos otherwise." So he's not far off the mark. Perhaps that makes her predictable, but she has so few friends as it is, and has never tried to hide how deep her connection is with the Sword. Forcing her eyes back up, Hotaru tries to give a smile only for it to fall flat. "I guess I never was a beach kind of girl." It rings hollow, with far too many unspoken similarities written between the lines.
Her eyes never leave him as he strips though. Some sort of self-inflicted misery, or a last ditch attempt to commit the entirety of his body to memory. There's a spark of alarm that flickers across her face at his admission that it had hurt him, but Nate is already moving forward into the water. Watching with bated breath, she only exhales when he continues onward with no sign of pain or injury to be seen even with her keenly searching gaze glued to his face. After that, well...she still doesn't look away. Can't bring herself to so much as blink as the space between them is whittled away to nearly nothing. Hotaru would love to be optimistic. To hope. But just as hope doesn't feed hungry mouths, it's incapable of stitching up wounds; inflicts them more often than not. Nate has never let her fall, has always had his hands there to catch and stabilize her when she stumbles. But now, those hands do not reach for her. So Hotaru does what she must, and does not let herself step off that edge. She won't survive the freefall.
Trailing notions bring a tired, clumsy smile to her lips. "Had some demons I needed to face here." Ones he is all too familiar with considering he'd been there when Wessex carried her into their home, practically catatonic with grief. Looking down at the water, she skims her fingers against the surface, unwilling to stare into his face. "I've been staying with Deimos otherwise." So he's not far off the mark. Perhaps that makes her predictable, but she has so few friends as it is, and has never tried to hide how deep her connection is with the Sword. Forcing her eyes back up, Hotaru tries to give a smile only for it to fall flat. "I guess I never was a beach kind of girl." It rings hollow, with far too many unspoken similarities written between the lines.
Pull you in, but don't you get too close
Love you now, but not tomorrow
Love you now, but not tomorrow
