Hotaru
My head's a burial ground of your memory
Hotaru mulls over the question quietly as she approaches the dogs, respectfully abiding the warning and allowing one of the other dogs to sniff her fingers to its content before beginning to pet it, sinking her fingers into thick fur. “I’m uncertain. Halo is my home, and I would be honored to lead it, but I have two children now. I would seek their input, and weigh it as equally as the citizens of Halo. If I am wanted, and my children are in support of the idea, then perhaps.” She is not power hungry in the traditional sense anymore. Politics only seem to tighten the noose here as opposed to Helovia. She does not need the gratification of a title to feel powerful or to give her life meaning. Squinting at the man and wracking her brain - which luckily has a truly impressive knack for faces given her…less than idyllic past - she hums softly. “You’re a messenger, right? I don’t believe we’ve ever met directly. I am Hotaru.” Only fair to end their game herself, even if Talyson had no idea they were playing (again).
