Hotaru
nothing's fair in love and war
It’s clear Sunjata himself barely has a grasp on what has occurred, whatever it is. Hotaru is well practiced in the art of patience, but in this particular moment it’s more of an effort. As much as she loves him, the Flood has a way of explaining things to himself to make agreeing to offers seem like the right path, or an excuse to do so urgently - as if the offer would disappear if he delayed. With Gods, it may well expire yes, and so she cannot let herself judge too soon. “An offer to be their demigod.”
Her next breath doesn’t come.
“Oh,” she exhales. It hurts more than she expected, but not for the reason he likely would think given their history with these things. The hand holding her shoes falls limply at her thigh, and she taps them idly there as she stares out over the ocean. Ear still tuned to each word, each promise better than the last. His relief is her own even in her disappointment. “That’s…wow. Sunjata that’s amazing.” She summons her joy for him, turns back and gently lays her hand on his elbow, pushing down, down, down on anything and everything else. “You did it. You really did.” Breathed out on a gust of astonishment that is barely loud enough to be heard over the wind and shore.
