Hotaru
nothing's fair in love and war
A promise to try is all she can ask for. She knows he is not the type to say it lightly, to say it in order to get her off his back as others might. Deimos does not mince and manipulate words the way she does; Hotaru can trust that he will try, inso the same way as he would work a muscle. Slow but intentional. As Hotaru’s hands shift to focus on a single arm, she smiles, thumbs smoothing over the rise and fall of muscle beneath her hands. “I have faith in your attempts to try.” How much he wants to hang on that faith is up to him; if it is of any use or encouragement, she hopes it will be help guide him onward in his journey. His assertion has her groaning softly but dramatically above him, shoulders caving inwards in a slump he is not privy to. Despite having assumed it herself, the confirmation does little to comfort her. With Nate’s bite still fresh and scabbed on her neck, she wonders if she’ll ever really move on from them. If they’ll continue to haunt her until she folds, begs to be taken back even if it means returning to her old anxieties and fears of being held at a lower importance. Had she not done the same thing with Thranduil? Hotaru bites the inside of her cheek, the ache in her stomach sharp and distracting, relying on the rumble of Deimos’ voice to center and refocus away from painful memories and regrets.
“I’ll have to demonstrate them for you when we’re done, just to make sure you’re replicating them right. For now, just relax.” Smile tentatively returning as she finishes up his arm and walks around the bed to the next. He’s almost done, which is a shame; this has been a good day, an enjoyable experience for the both of them (or so she hopes). But it surely will not be the last.
