Hotaru
I want a snowfall kind of love
the kind of love that quiets the world
the kind of love that quiets the world
“You have far more experience than myself with the Gods here; I’m sure any of my answers will seem flawed. But of the soldiers lined upon the board, Frey’s are the ones in the shadows.” Far from warriors and assassins. Nature presiding over human error and foolishness and thus assuring the relative safety of those champions.
The wind bites at her fair cheeks, turning them a blistering rose as she looks away from Remi’s ruggedly handsome face to the dark horizon where the city awaits. “The Voice’s aims are too familiar a blight to me. I’d rather mutter curses at Safrin from the sidelines than give my life to The Voice; even with your power, you could not hope to touch a herald. Which renders our hatred moot.” Her grin is crooked, one canine sharp as it crests over her lip. It doesn’t erase the desire for violence from her veins. “Frankly I’m not the type of woman to fight one-sided battles. I’d happily take a pamphlet from the Safrin-hating club president though.” Hotaru’s hand extends as if awaiting it immediately, before exaggeratedly sliding her hererochromatic gaze to the Ursur lying like a furry sack of potatoes on his shoulder. Her hand returns to the strap of her satchel with a wry attempt at a teasing grin. “Perhaps later, considering. Gives me time to make us club badges.”
The wind bites at her fair cheeks, turning them a blistering rose as she looks away from Remi’s ruggedly handsome face to the dark horizon where the city awaits. “The Voice’s aims are too familiar a blight to me. I’d rather mutter curses at Safrin from the sidelines than give my life to The Voice; even with your power, you could not hope to touch a herald. Which renders our hatred moot.” Her grin is crooked, one canine sharp as it crests over her lip. It doesn’t erase the desire for violence from her veins. “Frankly I’m not the type of woman to fight one-sided battles. I’d happily take a pamphlet from the Safrin-hating club president though.” Hotaru’s hand extends as if awaiting it immediately, before exaggeratedly sliding her hererochromatic gaze to the Ursur lying like a furry sack of potatoes on his shoulder. Her hand returns to the strap of her satchel with a wry attempt at a teasing grin. “Perhaps later, considering. Gives me time to make us club badges.”
The kind of love that keeps you in bed all day
won't you bury me in your quiet love?
won't you bury me in your quiet love?
