Hotaru
the horrors you've seen do not define who you are
She is late to the party it seems, but fashionably so as any woman strives to be. Noah's notice had been a surprise when she'd passed it on the way to the Barracks, but she'd committed the time and date to memory all the same. He was a kind hearted man, and Hotaru would currently take any excuse for physical work if it meant quieting the noise in her head and heart. Deimos is the first she recognizes, if only because he is as familiar to her as her own face even from a distance. It's no surprise she finds him here, and she shoots him a fond exasperated look as she comes up to his side. At least this is not so unequal an exchange as he normally finds himself in. Is she not here as well after all?
As she turns her heterochromatic gaze to the other individual standing in the group - a stranger to Hotaru, who marks down their face in her memory alongside the name Deimos supplies - she sends a smile Noah's way and begins to tie up her hair in preparation for the work to come. "Looks like we've got a decent amount of hands," she remarks optimistically, hands coming to rest on her hips in anticipation of directions.
