Hotaru
Her smile fades at the mention of the war, and she sighs mournfully. "I know. I talked to Wessex, and even though Frey couldn't care less about the war and the Gods couldn't care less about me, everyone is tangled up in choices by virtue of knowing each other." Of loving each other. Forming connections as humans are meant to do, and then discovering too late that they've now become nooses. All because the Gods can't figure their own shit out. Deigning mortal armies to be good enough substitutes instead of battling out their own problems one on one.
As she rises to her feet, his dry wit follows her, and despite how it edges a little close to sensitive territory it still prompts a bark of a laugh from her as she crawls into the bed gracelessly. There's not much to her, but what there is ends up sprawled and stretched like a sunning cat as she plucks the pillow on her side into her arms against her chest. It still feels natural to sidle over once Sunjata's arm is outstretched beneath the pillows, keeping her head propped up. The pillow between them is a meager barrier, but it gives her something to hold for the moment. Ru is sure she'll give in eventually, too inebriated to put up a fight, but for now they can hold a pretense of separation.
His stare is arresting even when he looks so lost, and Hotaru is scared to even blink lest he dissipate like so much mist. It's been a year since she's had someone in her bed for more than a night. Since she had him in particular. It's like a broken bone being set after a year; requiring a fresh break to do so, but the pain is worth how things settle into place. And in the silence, she offers one more golden bough of an olive branch; "Tell me about Kamaria?"
As she rises to her feet, his dry wit follows her, and despite how it edges a little close to sensitive territory it still prompts a bark of a laugh from her as she crawls into the bed gracelessly. There's not much to her, but what there is ends up sprawled and stretched like a sunning cat as she plucks the pillow on her side into her arms against her chest. It still feels natural to sidle over once Sunjata's arm is outstretched beneath the pillows, keeping her head propped up. The pillow between them is a meager barrier, but it gives her something to hold for the moment. Ru is sure she'll give in eventually, too inebriated to put up a fight, but for now they can hold a pretense of separation.
His stare is arresting even when he looks so lost, and Hotaru is scared to even blink lest he dissipate like so much mist. It's been a year since she's had someone in her bed for more than a night. Since she had him in particular. It's like a broken bone being set after a year; requiring a fresh break to do so, but the pain is worth how things settle into place. And in the silence, she offers one more golden bough of an olive branch; "Tell me about Kamaria?"
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
