There is a tension that hovers between them, a taut crimson wire of fate, vibrating with the intensity of their matched stares. Electric, alive with the meeting shrouded by steam and snow, hidden away from other eyes. A record written in the storybooks with only the pair of them as witnesses. It holds its power even as the soldier draws closer, hoof grazing the surface of the snow and stepping upon the stone like a death knoll, a final signature on a scroll of damnation. Their gazes are locked, unmoving. Not wanting to even if they had been given the choice. Ebony body gleams in the moonlight, accentuating silver hues and brindles until she glows like the luna herself. And Hotaru is captivated, pinned beneath that strong gaze like a butterfly to a canvas, a mouse beneath a cat's paw. Generally the damsel was a fighter, despised feeling helpless or cornered, but this? No, the feeling in that moment was bordering on levels of sexy. Power glimmered in bichromatic eyes, in the swell of each muscle already earned despite her lack of seasons.

A shiver danced on a canvas warmed by water at the smirk that curled ebonite lips, a little breathless. It was exquisite, an expression she wouldn't mind viewing repeatedly. Dual-crowned brow dipped slowly towards Hotaru, a rapid butterfly pace setting up in her heart. She was no Queen, no royalty to be bowed to or obeyed, no matter what she desired in her future. It was exhilarating, and she was captured by that wicked smirk and lowered crown, captivated by the power held in such an impeccably crafted frame. One that advances towards her with the lithe strength and promise of a puma. Slides into the water slowly, the ripples touching Hotaru before anything else and making her heart race and lids flutter. Beckoning, shy, but totally enraptured.

Sultry words slipped forth to caress Hotaru's skin, bindings that wrapped around her and held her fast in her position. A breath escapes her and she feels so different, so weak, but it's exciting. "Then come along soldier," she croons, barely a breath, a murmur. Looping the noose around the devil's neck and pulling her in, drowning her, because she wants that fire that she sees burning in her eyes. The sheer want in the stranger's voice makes her hotter than any hotspring could, and in her own beckoning lyrics there is a sensuality. It's a promise, a come-hither, cloaked in covetousness. She wants the brindled soldier, wants the serpentine words and deep rumble of budding possession. Wants the eloquent words and delicious curve of a muscular physique.

They slide together into the pool, the stranger coming nearer and nearer until she's trapped, cornered, with no desire to find a way out. Breaths intermingle, sharing scents. Hotaru has fought and sparred and bled upon the ground for the right to be seen as something powerful, as something more than the gender so many disregarded. There was a reminder in the pit of her stomach to fight, to show this seductive stranger that she was no coward to be trampled over, and her eyes were bright with it. Don't let her underestimate you, she tried to remind herself, but she simply couldn't. Hotaru felt like a maiden in a silken white dress, pressed to the mattress with a knightly villain pressing her into them, ready for the debauchery hanging like a smog of promise in the eyes staring her down. She will merely comfort herself with the knowledge that under that delicately woven dress, there is a silver dagger strapped to one slender thigh.

Electricity blooms on her shoulder and she gasps softly at the warm brush of muzzle on her sensitive skin. Shivering beneath the touch, the she-wolf let her lips move to caress the arch of the brindled warrior's neck, tracing down the wordlessly eloquent curve of it. They stare into one another, not simply gazing at surface features. Touching, tense, bodies shivering and buzzing, alight with attraction and appreciation for the canvas beneath respective lips. Words like hickory smoke surround her, pull her deeper, and fill her nares with the thick, rich scent of lust. Husky voice makes her purr softly in her throat, lips wrapping around an errant strand of rich black mane and pulling playfully, hoping to encourage Rhiannon closer to her body with the movement.

An amber jewel glints beneath the water, innocent on a golden chain, drawing her attention where it connects to her tresses. A reminder of her prowess, her cunning. Reminds her that no matter how she acts, she has the strength to put anyone in their place. Not that she'd want to put Rhiannon in any place but right beside her. Or maybe in front of her so she can eat up her delicious frame every moment. Instead she lets her worries fade into the water and disappear, tilting her aurals up towards the taller maiden, feeling dwarfed and pleasantly crowded. Hangs on every word, bichromatic eyes glinting in the starlight as she steps boldly closer to brush their chests together.

Lips close over the skin stretched over her spine, and she gasps and hums in her throat, eyes clouded and vaguely impressed. "I should be glad then, I wouldn't want any other pretty airhead stealing you away before I arrived," she cooed, lips twisting into a smirk that twisted femininely innocent features into something darker. Seductive. Powerful. "I'd have to...remove them, for someone so striking," she breathed, winking with starlight lashes. Her name is called into question and she reaches up to the taller mare to nibble lightly at the space between jaw and neck, meeting every seductive touch with one of her own, step for step, toe to toe. Unafraid.

"My name is Hotaru, Phantom," she elaborated, remembering a time when her title would have been Soldier as well. But Arya came first. Didn't mean her mother couldn't have some fun with an exquisite specimen. Her tentative nature threatens to rear its head as she is beckoned to sing once more, but then an easy smile stretches her lips and she quiets her voice until it is a melody meant only for Rhiannon's aurals instead of the expanse of the pools. Smoothly her chords warm back up into the chorus, weaving golden strands around the pair of them, pulling them closer and tighter as Hotaru stares unabashedly into Rhiannon's eyes.

As her song tapers, lyrics fading in a haunting reprise of a familiar errant verse from earlier in the piece, so her smile widens. "I don't sing for just anyone you know," she whispers, movements slow and languid as she strides through the water, circling Rhiannon so closely their hides brush repeatedly, pausing and slowing as her flank presses to the soldier's brindled shoulder. Glancing over her own, back towards the taller mare, her grin turns wicked, promising awful, wonderful things. "I should have known the mares of the Basin would be so much better. But...who is to say you don't woo every mare you find in the night?" And she slides forward until they are no longer touching, curving delicately, elegantly until they are face to face once more. She is a devious thing, and the mouse is no longer caught beneath the cat's claws, but slipped free without the cat becoming aware. Who was to say the cat was worthy of catching her fully? "I don't take fondly to sharing," she purred, silk draped over a dagger's edge, a promise of death beneath a lacy sheath of sincerity.

I'm not a girl, I'm storm with skin