Hotaru
What if we're all just sleeping satellites
Why do we drift so far from home
Why do we drift so far from home
Rare indeed, though Hotaru has scarcely been able to withhold her laughter herself. Attunement lends itself well to the agility required to pull off the move, and shifting midair is a sensation she won’t soon be forgetting, but the blunt impact of collision is entirely worth every sore muscle and inevitable bruise as Deimos is sent ass-first into the mud.
Everything is a little topsy-turvy, but her crow of success turns into a helpless squawk of surprise as Deimos grips her and throws her like she weighs no more than a sack of flour. Hotaru ragdolls over his shoulder, arms barely reaching out in time to turn her impending faceplant into a sad excuse for a tuck and roll, which really just ends with her slamming into the mud on her back. Wheezing for a moment as the air is knocked out of her, the Valkyrie stares into the sky as the metaphorical stars stop spinning, and then she’s laughing raucously. The mud in her hair and on her clothes inconsequential to the light feeling blooming in her chest.
Peeling herself out of the mud, she staggers through it towards Deimos, bright spots of pink high in her cheeks and eyes bright with mirth. Holding out a hand, grin large and unburdened, she offers to help him up (as if she’d be much of a counterbalance). “Call it a tie?”
Everything is a little topsy-turvy, but her crow of success turns into a helpless squawk of surprise as Deimos grips her and throws her like she weighs no more than a sack of flour. Hotaru ragdolls over his shoulder, arms barely reaching out in time to turn her impending faceplant into a sad excuse for a tuck and roll, which really just ends with her slamming into the mud on her back. Wheezing for a moment as the air is knocked out of her, the Valkyrie stares into the sky as the metaphorical stars stop spinning, and then she’s laughing raucously. The mud in her hair and on her clothes inconsequential to the light feeling blooming in her chest.
Peeling herself out of the mud, she staggers through it towards Deimos, bright spots of pink high in her cheeks and eyes bright with mirth. Holding out a hand, grin large and unburdened, she offers to help him up (as if she’d be much of a counterbalance). “Call it a tie?”
Why do we wake ourselves from paradise
Where we will never be alone
Where we will never be alone
