death is the mother of beauty. and what is beauty? terror.
Hotaru can almost taste his reticence, and it only stokes the strangely sisterly glee inside her breast. Part of her - distinctly animalistic, as both cat and falcon can attest - hopes he runs so she may give chase. It appears he has better sense than that though. Shame.
"Spent most of the morning fixing up the spa," she gestures gracefully to the outside of the building, cleared of snow and with small notable repairs. Then she wiggles her slingshot in her other hand. "Now I'm just doing some training." Heterochromatic eyes drop to the axe his own hand rests upon, and an idea - something beyond the scope of simple teasing and occupation of time - begins to bloom. "You any good with that?"
"Spent most of the morning fixing up the spa," she gestures gracefully to the outside of the building, cleared of snow and with small notable repairs. Then she wiggles her slingshot in her other hand. "Now I'm just doing some training." Heterochromatic eyes drop to the axe his own hand rests upon, and an idea - something beyond the scope of simple teasing and occupation of time - begins to bloom. "You any good with that?"
