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08-07-2015, 06:53 PM
Hotaru
and Alice
Though she'd handled the meeting with more grace than her counterpart, it had left its imprint inside her mind. Hotaru didn't give two flying fucks what Arah thought of her - if she was supposedly the best Impersonator (Hotaru laughed over having stolen that particular title from her, too) then she should have worked as hard as Hotaru had for the spot. If she wanted it that damn bad, she shouldn't have sat on her ass squalling like a child. And yet she said Hotaru was too young for the position? The strawberry fae snorted harshly through her nares, ears half-mast and sinking farther with solitude on her side. Anger loosened beneath the tight wraps she'd placed around it, concealed and indifferent during the meeting. It thrashed out like volatile waves, ready to slice into any random passerby to fall beneath her waiting, predatory wrath. Beneath it all simmered a layer of grief and hurt. A revelation she had never anticipated, never seen coming, revealed between the blunted bovine teeth of the she-witch. Her godmother was dead? Hadn't Hotaru already lost so much? Her mother, her father, now her godmother? And what of Mauja? The only other name she knew, lost to the winds and prompting only scowls and bitter remarks from those she had dared to question when she'd first become part of the Aurora Basin. And her twin? A fresh surge of frustration built in her breast, and with Alice's quiet confirmation that she was alone, she screamed and kicked at a random clod of snow. Huffing with the sudden, cathartic sensation she felt, the tempest of a woman settled back down into her skin and bones with more will than want. No. She'd not let Arah get a hand over her. She would not relinquish that sort of power, regardless of whether the maiden was aware of it or not. Hotaru was nothing if not brutally stubborn, as unrelenting as steel and stone. There was no need to defend herself, not to someone below her. So she let it slide off her skin, let the barbs tear free of her consciousness, uncaring if they ripped out tiny portions of herself on the way out. Pain is weakness leaving the body. She'd not bow to the loud mouthed cur who sat in false supremacy upon a throne built of her own supposed accomplishments, cushy for the lazy figure she'd place upon it. Hotaru was a queen, a lady in title and right. This was her birthright. This had always been hers to claim, and Arah could step aside or shut her mouth. Preferably both. Ru! It split into her mind, and Hotaru shifted her attention to Alice, who had patiently weathered her outburst as a sentinel to any intruders of her privacy. The hellhound was gazing up at a peak near the healer's caverns, deep smoke rolling off her coat, eye a luminous, glowing, sickly green as it was turned upon Hotaru. Golg. Ah, gold. Thranduil, then. Turning her eyes upward, she caught sight of the young Haldir, standing at the base of the path. Intrigued, and not admitting that she was mildly concerned in her own right for the shamed Lord, the mare stepped towards the little cervidae. The racket grew more noticeable the higher she climbed, steps precise on the little path as Haldir lead the way. Was that further proof of the fact that she needed to be there? That somehow she was needed? Turning the corner into the cavern, she watched in silence as Thranduil stomped over to his bag in a rage of gold and stomped down upon an item in the shape of a feather. It cracked beneath his weight, his fury, and Hotaru stepped inside. Wait with Haldir. Whether Alice understood completely or not, she did not seem keen on weathering the storm that was the Laurelin. Hotaru, on the other hand, had never cared for restraint or impulse control. There was no good in asking how he was, that was clear enough. Nor was there any use in insulting Arah, or they'd simply sit around running themselves in circles of hatred. Hotaru didn't have time nor care for such useless floundering, doubted that Thranduil wanted to do it either even in his current emotional state. Neither of them were creatures of sloth, time was precious and needed to be extrapolated to full use and potential. Let him dwell in his own cathartic expulsion of his emotions, she'd weather it as she'd done her own. There was no shame in anger, at least. But this was still a realm of words and machinations, and she'd play it as such. Even if in some unspoken way she was concerned for him, and was not careful enough to conceal it from the shadows of her eyes or the lilt of her frown. "We will prove them wrong." It was quiet in comparison to his roaring and stampeding, but no less loud in meaning. "What have they done?" she demanded sharply, eyes squinting distastefully. "Nothing in comparison to what we have achieved. So let them talk," spat from her lips, poison and acrid smoke. Tail whipped against her hocks, a sort of electric tension cloaking her hide and drawing her hide up and out like an angry cat, her magic still mildly unknown to her. "This is just the beginning. We learn the ropes, we shut our goddamn mouths and grin and bear it for a little while. But we are equals regardless of what Deimos thinks, and we will show him such. Show everyone what we can do, let them walk themselves into their own traps, let them talk and talk until it's too late and they're ours." Nostrils flared to life once more, huffing in breath passionately even with the restrained, deliberate pose of her form. "We do what we do best. So get your anger out now, Thranduil. Because we have work to do." |
![[Image: 515265280ffff]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/515265280ffff)
Plot with me here!
