Hotaru
My head's a burial ground of your memory
Ru can’t help the soft, almost childishly girlish giggle that escapes her at his naivety. She feels distinctly like a naughty child getting away with stealing a cookie from the jar while their parent is within sight with their back turned. It’s a good thing the moonlight is bright but their features are so concealed, as they’d likely vaguely recognize one another otherwise and Hotaru’s mysterious anonymity would be forfeit. “Perhaps. My hands are certainly not guided by myself tonight.” Undeniably true, except it was Frey who has commanded it and not the winter spirit. Frowning as one of the brainless birds of the region - ningos, and how Deimos loved to antagonize them in droves - descended and began to peck at one of the stones she’d left behind. Enticed by its brightness. The Valkyrie wiggles her fingers threateningly, shooting sparks at the bird to try and dissuade it and only succeeding in making it fall over itself in the snow in a flurry of confusion. “Miserable creatures, hardly even worth the meat on their bones. Shoo, you.” She is nearly to her last stone and she won’t abide any disruptions to her pattern.
