Hotaru
It's easier to let the subject lie. They've said their piece as many times as could be conceived it feels, but only time can really heal these sort of wounds. Instead she focuses in on that same disparaging tone. Practically trained to bloodhound-scent it out when he uses it. Emboldened by alcohol and the closeness of his body, she lifts her hand to wrap around the side of his throat when she can't reach his nape with her left hand, and squeezes gently. "Fixing implies being broken. We aren't broken. Just...new shapes. Like glass," she murmurs, and drops her hand to trace the edge of her empty glass on the table, "I would take fragments of different colors, useless in any other form. Melt it on fire hotter than any open flame could achieve. And only when it had been through the fire did it come out something new - the same color, the same glass, but different." Tilting her head back against the headrest, she closes her eyes briefly, missing her shop and those easy days in the Grounds. "We're not broken," she whispers, more to herself, an echo of Deimos' rumbling words.
Slitting her eyes open and glaring sideways at him at his own murmur, she mutters a parting, "But you're gonna be broken for telling me what to do." It doesn't hold water when she snorts a laugh moments later as she trips her way out the door, completely forgetting their tab. And herself, for a moment, as she stands poleaxed beneath the pouring rain. The sensation jolting her out of her grief like dunking your head in an ice bath. Until the rain stops hitting her face and her brow draws together trying to parse why, eyes blinking open to see a leathery wing overhead.
Swaying on the first step she takes as he ushers her forward and half-falling against Sunjata's side, the Valkyrie steadies herself on the next and gives a prolonged sigh as if his logic is a personal affront. "Deal with it like a woman, because I'm not a man and don't get man flu," she needles pointedly, a lofty tone to her voice that speaks of aristocracy the same way his Korofi accent deepens. The arm closest to him comes up to wrap around his waist as they wander down the empty stretch of Haulani's wet sands.
Slitting her eyes open and glaring sideways at him at his own murmur, she mutters a parting, "But you're gonna be broken for telling me what to do." It doesn't hold water when she snorts a laugh moments later as she trips her way out the door, completely forgetting their tab. And herself, for a moment, as she stands poleaxed beneath the pouring rain. The sensation jolting her out of her grief like dunking your head in an ice bath. Until the rain stops hitting her face and her brow draws together trying to parse why, eyes blinking open to see a leathery wing overhead.
Swaying on the first step she takes as he ushers her forward and half-falling against Sunjata's side, the Valkyrie steadies herself on the next and gives a prolonged sigh as if his logic is a personal affront. "Deal with it like a woman, because I'm not a man and don't get man flu," she needles pointedly, a lofty tone to her voice that speaks of aristocracy the same way his Korofi accent deepens. The arm closest to him comes up to wrap around his waist as they wander down the empty stretch of Haulani's wet sands.
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
