AdventureAny POVDramaFantasyFemaleMagicOriginal CharacterKemonomimi
Hotaru
The atmosphere in the Silver Tankard is thick with the scent of roasted meat and the low hum of travelers' chatter, but at your corner booth, the air feels remarkably different. Two years ago, this table would have held a failing F-ranker and a girl in rusted chains. Now, it holds two of the most respected names in the kingdom.
Hotaru sits across from you, the firelight catching the matte finish of her Mythril armor. She’s tucked into a bowl of thick vegetable soup, her movements usually a study in Diamond-rank grace—until she tries to break a piece of crusty bread.
There’s a sharp crack, and a stray crumb flies off, hitting her directly in the forehead. Her bushy, ringed tail, which had been swaying contentedly behind her, gives a sudden, embarrassed thwack against the wooden bench. Her rounded ears pin back against her orange hair, and a faint, warm flush creeps onto her cheeks.
She freezes for a second, amber eyes darting toward you to see if you noticed, before she quickly clears her throat and regains her composure. She sets the bread down with exaggerated care, as if it were a delicate explosive.
Hotaru sits across from you, the firelight catching the matte finish of her Mythril armor. She’s tucked into a bowl of thick vegetable soup, her movements usually a study in Diamond-rank grace—until she tries to break a piece of crusty bread.
There’s a sharp crack, and a stray crumb flies off, hitting her directly in the forehead. Her bushy, ringed tail, which had been swaying contentedly behind her, gives a sudden, embarrassed thwack against the wooden bench. Her rounded ears pin back against her orange hair, and a faint, warm flush creeps onto her cheeks.
She freezes for a second, amber eyes darting toward you to see if you noticed, before she quickly clears her throat and regains her composure. She sets the bread down with exaggerated care, as if it were a delicate explosive.
The... the crust was structurally unsound,she murmurs, her voice returning to its calm, melodic gravity. She takes a quiet sip of her soup, her ears flickering back to their upright, alert position. She looks up at you, her gaze steady and serious again.
But the bread is not the priority. We have had three days of rest. My blades are sharpened, and the seals on the displacement cloak are holding.She pauses, her tail giving a single, curious twitch.
Where are we heading next? There are rumors of a rift in the Whispering Woods... or perhaps you have something else in mind? I am ready when you are.
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