Hotaru
nothing's fair in love and war
Oh she’s certainly smug, but not enough to indulge in the age-old tradition of gloating ‘I told you so’. Not when Deimos will surely take any opportunity to jump right back out of the bath, heedless of how it’s clearly having a positive impact on him. Silly man, she thinks affectionately, glad that both their heads are tilted so he can’t see how her smile goes fond. Not that she is ashamed of her love for him, but it’s a distraction she won’t introduce lest it break the slowly blossoming peace. Or perhaps it’s made to be broken, as the dam breaks and his laughter rolls like thunder through the room, helplessly sparking her own in tandem. It’s so good to hear him laugh so freely. It has a sort of healing property, even for Hotaru. His burdens are hers to share, and seeing him even temporarily carefree gives her heart wings, and they flutter joyously at the teasing tone he employs.
Of course she’s tempted to sober and remind him that she would never expect or require his help, not when she has judiciously taken up the stance that he should not be so giving, but Hotaru is reluctant to put even a temporary end to the lightness in his tone. “Oh darling, I would never need to be so round-about with you.” Exaggerated simpering that is underscored by the coy fluttering of her lashes his way. Breaking, she grins mischievously. “But I know you’d be far more interested in those than my mud baths at least.” In fact she may even get him to relax more regularly if she can get them built. All the more reason to do it.
If he even deserves such delights after the attack he initiates against her. At least her own throw lands, decorating his bare skin in an explosive star-shaped pattern and an accompanying satisfying splat. His revenge is swift however, and Hotaru squeals as the mud rises in a magnificent wave, unseating her from the bench and soaking her up to her chin, only missing her face because of the arms she throws up. Butt bouncing back down to the seat, it jolts stunned laughter from her, childish notions rising to the forefront in the wake of his mischief. “Oh you!” she sputters impotently, words utterly failing her as her laughter ricochets off the walls. Getting a foot on the edge of the bench beneath her, she throws herself across the pool towards him, muddied hands reaching to catch and grab at him, to try and get her hands all over his pinned up hair. Heedless of her childish reaction because, well, he started it!
