Tis better to be late than not arrive at all, Hotaru thought dryly to herself as she advanced upon the individuals grouped together around the tent. Alice chuffed at her heels, clearly disinterested in the proceedings but disallowed from abandoning her mistress. Not that she fully intended to, once her sharp, predatory eyes caught sight of Ashamin directing the activities. The bitter, sorrowful twang of emotion in Hotaru's breast was all the justification Alice needed for the low growl that echoed in her throat. He had left her there, kneeling in the snow and Ashamin's blood, lost and sorrowful. Just like Thranduil had. And the bitter irony of that fact had only deepened the wound, the fact that she had done exactly as Ashamin had asked - no matter how badly it had hurt her, like breaking her own bones to harm the one man she'd let herself trust after all this time - and he had still left her. And when he'd left, she couldn't tell which mirage hurt worse - the golden back, or the painted one. 

Hate, Alice snarled, a word Hotaru wished she'd never learned but an inevitable addition to her vocabulary, when she was bonded to someone like Hotaru. No. We don't hate him. And to prove it she danced closer, the weight of her heart lifting to see so many milling about, conversation disjointed with the magical properties of the tent. Her family, her herd. Even Deimos remained, though with his gawking face so out of context, Hotaru could not help but let a small laugh escape off her tongue. Like melting sugar, a sweetness she had not partaken in for so long. This was what had enamored her when she'd risen to the title of Lady. This camaraderie, this deep and unshakable bond that no herd or enemy had ever broken, and if she had any say in it, never would. 

The temptation of Deimos' sourness was too strong, and she announced herself with a soft, feminine huff of her nares before alighting them upon his flank. Bicolored orbs danced with amusement, his territorial, archaic ways amusing to her. The others were like pups tumbling about, ruining his sacred den, and they were the Alphas watching on in dismay. Perhaps Alice is rubbing off too much on her, with her proclamations of 'pack' and 'Alpha', but Hotaru can't say she isn't displeased. After all, the Basin had always been more like wolves than equines, with their hatred and their isolation and their wicked, snarling teeth. She'd rather live among the wolves, with their bare intentions and sordid machinations, than out in the rest of the world where falsity was commonplace and the felling of a heart the greatest prize to achieve. At least she understood the violent tendencies of this world, this realm that she ruled over. And she loved it. 

But there were others to attend to, and her lips slid off Deimos' skin as her head turned towards the chipper, happy voice she recognized from greeting Eldala at the borders. "Johnny," she greeted warmly, smile pulling at her beautiful face. A gracious, benevolent leader, allowing all these familiar souls to rub up against her own, shedding their light upon her and allowing her to push the darkness back away from their gazes. She would defend them with that darkness, but she could allow it to recede in their presence. It reminded her of Illynx, and she wondered idly if her once-mentor would ever look upon Hotaru and see herself. If that was a good or bad thing. 

Until she saw Rexanna, swollen with child, painting little hoofprints upon Ashamin's skin. Her own began to crawl, a deep simmering anger that took her by surprise. Hotaru was known for her selfishness and vanity, but this was encroaching upon territory she had never anticipated claiming. Such loving familiarity burned and scalded her, reminding her that while Ashamin was her only friend and confidant, it was not the same for him in reverse. Still, it soured in her gut, and she strode purposefully between the pair of them as Rexanna began to retreat, Alice grumbling low and unhappy at her side as they watched her retreat. Her eyes raked over the swollen belly, ties coming together in her mind, understanding lighting up behind her eyes. 

It hurt. And she didn't know why. 

But as she turned to Ashamin the only thing she could see was the wound she inflicted, still burned and branded upon his skin. Her face fell, and she mutely dipped her muzzle into the pale blue before her, pointedly ignoring the paintbrushes for this particularly intimate moment, before turning and casting her eyes quietly at Ashamin. Asking permission, even while staring at him reminds her of his departure, of the way she burns just to stand beside him. I never deserved to be the swan, she thinks, so quiet even in her own head that it's like a whisper, and wonders if Rexanna is that for him now. It was more fitting, with her easy smiles and her kindness. As Hotaru leans forward - careful of her horn, for she's hurt him enough - and begins to paint it across his skin, she wonders if this fire inside her heart will eventually cleanse her. It's been burning so long, and she wonders if she is so full of inescapable sin that it will never be burned through. That she will never emerge like the phoenix, new and pure, hardened against everything that still hurts her even with how far she's come. Her lips tremble as they touch him, the burn she left upon him. She won't cry, not here with Deimos and her underlings watching her. But she wants to, briefly. 

Instead, she lets her face fall slack and expressionless, revealing nothing as she paints across every bit of area the burn covers. Her muzzle is stained pale blue, but she doesn't have it in her to care. Turns and idly brushes her face against her inner leg, painting that, too. Dips her muzzle back into the gold, wonders how they achieved that shade, before turning and drawing it in a discordant slash across the blue. Stares silently, feeling like this is something important, has to be with how her heart aches in her chest like a bruise. Something symbolic. Lifts her eyes slowly to the dark pits of Ashamin's, the ones that remind her of Alice, and things like home and comfort. Things she can't allow herself anymore, not with things like Rexanna, and children, and Thranduil. Wonders when her friendship with him, something she'd never deserved and never would, had begun to feel like a cliff's edge. Surely it was her own fault for twisting this into something new, because she broke everything that had to do with matters of the heart. 

At least she knew she could not break when it came to her herd, or she'd be left with nothingness. 

Through painted maw she whispers, for his ears alone. "Your heart will always be pure and golden, no matter what runs through your veins." She knew the electricity in him, some sort of magical kinship, one she'd felt when he'd reached for her heart in the desolate wastelands of snow. Cleared her throat softly and turned, slipping past the tent flaps, cloth brushing somberly against her skin. "Come, Alice." The bitch follows after her, brushing comfortingly against her foreleg. Hotaru leaves with her head high and mouth painted, showing no sign of the torment battling itself out in the arena of her ribcage. She is their Lady, she is composed and powerful. But she muses on the fact that her heart has always been her greatest downfall, and wonders when the final blow will come. She is growing tired of these constant, painful aches. 

Mentions @Deimos and a little of @Johnny and @Rexanna if anyone wants to read! But she also leaves so ahaha