Hotaru
It's a good thing she doesn't know or isn't in her right mind to sense how he stills, because she doesn't want to think about the promises they once made to each other. Promises broken on both sides, over and over, until they'd been too hurt to find their way across the shards littering the space between them. A hoarse laugh leaves her at what she hears as an excuse, blinking back bitter tears. "I was lonely without you and Nate, and ended up with Remi when I saw you in Frey's face at his side. I still owned up to what I did to Ronin. Loneliness is no excuse for hurting people." The words spill freely without her meaning to release them. She had even spoken with Ronin after the fact, though that was admittedly before she'd known she was pregnant. Refusing to be a coward and hide from the reality of what had happened, how it had undoubtedly impacted the Taliesin's relationship. Maeve could have had the same courtesy.
Hotaru doesn't notice consciously how he pulls her closer. Her body readjusts naturally after so long readily falling into his hold; legs curling closer and higher upon the bench, tucking her shoulder under his bicep to be more fully ensconced in his warmth. Her drink stubbornly comes with her, sliding across the table with the hand still wrapped around it, which quickly ushers it back to her mouth in due time. The Valkyrie isn't much of a drinker, never has been. She can appreciate high quality spirits, knows her way around cocktails and shots alike, but a woman as obsessed with control as she is doesn't like to loosen the hands fisted so tightly around those reigns. But there's always a first for everything, even if the last time she'd gotten even close to this tipsy she'd, well, sort of become an arsonist.
"I have a new appreciation for her, but the worry - and doubt - is warranted," she snorts a laugh, blinking quickly and frowning at how it makes her head spin. It's quickly erased into a small quirk of a smile at the amusement she can feel from the bond, emotions loose and liquid, easy to mold. "Was the Halenani ever rebuilt?" She knows the Society wasn't. Had walked past it on the way to the Hanged Man, touched her fingers to the scorched wood, spoke quiet words to a man that would never want to hear them now.
Hotaru doesn't notice consciously how he pulls her closer. Her body readjusts naturally after so long readily falling into his hold; legs curling closer and higher upon the bench, tucking her shoulder under his bicep to be more fully ensconced in his warmth. Her drink stubbornly comes with her, sliding across the table with the hand still wrapped around it, which quickly ushers it back to her mouth in due time. The Valkyrie isn't much of a drinker, never has been. She can appreciate high quality spirits, knows her way around cocktails and shots alike, but a woman as obsessed with control as she is doesn't like to loosen the hands fisted so tightly around those reigns. But there's always a first for everything, even if the last time she'd gotten even close to this tipsy she'd, well, sort of become an arsonist.
"I have a new appreciation for her, but the worry - and doubt - is warranted," she snorts a laugh, blinking quickly and frowning at how it makes her head spin. It's quickly erased into a small quirk of a smile at the amusement she can feel from the bond, emotions loose and liquid, easy to mold. "Was the Halenani ever rebuilt?" She knows the Society wasn't. Had walked past it on the way to the Hanged Man, touched her fingers to the scorched wood, spoke quiet words to a man that would never want to hear them now.
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
And I do things that I don't really mean
