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03-31-2015, 05:25 PM
Hotaru
and Alice
Her mistress all but blended into the scenery of her backdrop, the stage Hotaru had unwittingly placed her upon. Old muscle memory twinged in her hide, ancient urge to indulge in physical affection. The unwilling heart she held captive too battered and wounded to ever trust in that route again, the elegant Impersonator turned her head from it, the siren’s call of a gentler side that cursed her imperfect foundations. She found herself focusing instead on the intricate colors of her Lady’s eyes, separating the wholesome entity into particles that would not wish upon her distraction or weakness. They mirrored hers so oddly, both sharing one color but not the other. A physical shake of her head was enacted then, chasing away the thoughts like buzzing, droning flies. There was business to be done, Hotaru could not succumb to the conversational topics she desired, nor let her heart take reigns that it had not touched since before her full rotational year. As she crossed the threshold of snow and tundra, she allowed herself to be stopped, led into the sanctuary of silence beneath the woven tent’s embrace. Its flaps kissed her flanks, welcoming her into the silence, hanging and mildly foreboding though it was with the heft of her revelation. Her words colored its empty expanse, a perfumed cloud that they all were subjected to. Each color was chosen for a reason, each word a purpose in the pattern and cadence of her words. Still, she suspected that regardless of how she phrased the information, the interest on behalf of her leads would not waver. After all, such vital facts and variables were not to be taken lightly. Still, muscle memory. Like predatory felines, two pairs of eyes glinted at her in the shade of the tent’s ambiance, flickering and shining like revolving gold coins at the mention of revenge and justice. Hotaru had waved the bloodied cloth beneath their noses, and the hounds had caught the scent of blood at last. Even a trained beast could not ignore the pulse of hunger forever. And the Basin was a beast, a predator, a slinking lynx in the night. It had lain quiet and acquiescent for too long. It was a serpent with built up venom, writhing and slinking through the shadows, cursed by the evil blood in their veins, the macabre justifications waiting in the runes and etches of their minds. Hotaru had slicked its scales lovingly, dedicated to her task. For seasons she had made herself a perfect niche, her end game only known to herself – the sole individual she could trust implicitly. Finally, things were coming into light. Action was being taken. And Hotaru? She was at the very head of it, for she’d spun her web so tightly and so delicately that they needed her. Relied upon her. Alice craned her head up and whined softly, uncomfortable. Hotaru decided she’d rather not dwell on the fact that there was something hiding in her psyche, reasoning behind why her only happiness came about when she was needed. Confutatis came into conversation, and though Hotaru was delighted that the bitch who had escaped her clutches had been retrieved once more, she was still stung about the fact she’d gotten away at all. Jaw clenched and bulged with the motion of her teeth grinding, and though she realized she’d done enough, with all she’d presented to her leaders, she still felt like a failure in that moment. Her eyes flashed with renewed determination. “I will redeem myself for her escape, I swear it to you,” she hissed softly, mind already whirring with Ophelia’s words. A potential began to bud in her mind, a target accumulating. I have no love for Midas… Bihued eyes flickered to Ophelia in particular. Perhaps she could do her Lady one more favor. Then to Deimos. Her eyes sparkled, practically hyperventilating with her pride, her excitement. She was still nothing but a child, hardly into her third rotation, and already she’d accomplished much. Part of her was starving for their compliments, their pride. The pride Phaedra had never given her. It was a side of her she did not acknowledge even in her darkest moments, but so soon after Deimos had promoted her, she could not help but fall prey to its ways. “If you will have me, I will lend my body to the ranks. It is my old home, and I have some vengeance of my own to enact,” she murmured, eyes filled with something like blood and alcohol. She was toxic and she’d fight whether he had her or not, but the intention was the same behind her words. “I will return to Oxy and ensure he does not have any second thoughts. We are to meet him at the changing of the seasons, on the Harvest moon in the start of Orangemoon.” Illuminated eyes switched between her Lord and Lady, and were they not to have hold on her any longer, she would turn and escape into the night. Back to her job, the one that never ceased. |
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Plot with me here!
