Hotaru
It’s no surprise that Atlas is quite similar in disposition to Hotaru’s best friend Deimos. They are puzzle pieces, platonic and perfectly aligned, regardless of which soul is being considered. As such, the unicorn is content to shoulder through the crowd, shamelessly pointing his sharp horn forward as he lets his muzzle wander in search of treats. Not that he is above pilfering produce directly from the baskets of course, but such antics are best suited for sadder days when Hotaru is in need of a smile.
Bonded to the Valkyrie as he is, when Atlas notices the small girl scampering around under tables, he begins to track her with one ear that swivels atop his crown like a homing beacon. Tapping on his bond with Hotaru to garner her attention mere moments before the blonde girl is popping upright from beneath a merchant’s cart to offer him an apple. Hotaru is a few paces behind, head beginning to turn, but Atlas is her soulmate. He is as fond of children as she is, and easily tempted by food as well; this is something he can handle for a moment.
Careful to keep his horn away from her, Atlas slowly moves his muzzle closer, a whuff of warm air billowing across the girl’s rounded face as he greets her. Soft muzzle tickles at her cheek, lips catching gently and playfully at her hair as if it is straw with the way it’s colored. Anything to prompt a giggle from the child before he drops his head to crunch the apple in half right there in her hands.
Hotaru has made it to his side at last, and as he chews the apple he turns the task over to her. Atlas swings his hindquarters further into the pathway to ensure nobody knocks over the child, allowing Hotaru to slip between the stalls and her companion’s side to squat in front of the girl with a warm, maternal smile. “His name is Atlas,” she whispers loudly, as if it’s a secret she is deigning to share with the child. No sense in scaring her off with worry and chiding tones. “And he quite likes apples, you picked a great one.” Atlas punctuates this with a soft whicker, juice-stained muzzle sticky as it reaches for Kamaria’s cheek once more in a bump of a kiss before he seeks out the remaining apple in her hands.
Bonded to the Valkyrie as he is, when Atlas notices the small girl scampering around under tables, he begins to track her with one ear that swivels atop his crown like a homing beacon. Tapping on his bond with Hotaru to garner her attention mere moments before the blonde girl is popping upright from beneath a merchant’s cart to offer him an apple. Hotaru is a few paces behind, head beginning to turn, but Atlas is her soulmate. He is as fond of children as she is, and easily tempted by food as well; this is something he can handle for a moment.
Careful to keep his horn away from her, Atlas slowly moves his muzzle closer, a whuff of warm air billowing across the girl’s rounded face as he greets her. Soft muzzle tickles at her cheek, lips catching gently and playfully at her hair as if it is straw with the way it’s colored. Anything to prompt a giggle from the child before he drops his head to crunch the apple in half right there in her hands.
Hotaru has made it to his side at last, and as he chews the apple he turns the task over to her. Atlas swings his hindquarters further into the pathway to ensure nobody knocks over the child, allowing Hotaru to slip between the stalls and her companion’s side to squat in front of the girl with a warm, maternal smile. “His name is Atlas,” she whispers loudly, as if it’s a secret she is deigning to share with the child. No sense in scaring her off with worry and chiding tones. “And he quite likes apples, you picked a great one.” Atlas punctuates this with a soft whicker, juice-stained muzzle sticky as it reaches for Kamaria’s cheek once more in a bump of a kiss before he seeks out the remaining apple in her hands.
come what may
she would be wild, untrammeled, free
she would be wild, untrammeled, free
