soft blue regards the younger, iris reflecting the sea on a calm day. warming, welcoming. lacking of the cold look ocean blues often held. such a look was reserved only to those held dear to the maidens heart. calloused fingers interlink with hotaru’s. broken. damaged. from so many events. all written off beneath the guise of her violin, an instrument known for both rupturing hearts and hands. often in the same strokes. still, though damaged, it did not remove the warmth that flowed through them. similar to that of a current rising from ocean depths, from even the darkest of places – warmth and life could rise. such is luck the abyss she commands. hands squeeze gently. soft, but firm. a touch only a mother could have. it was reassuring, but not overbearing. for such a young woman, she was wise, and over caring. the sea nurtures all, after all. 「あら，hotaru-chan – is something wrong ? 」worry tinges her tone – eyebrows pushing together like waves breaking in the middle lightly. pushed to convey concern, but not enough to crinkle ivory skin. a soft balance in her expression. sigh pushes through petal lips before pulling into a smile. hands holding just a touch tighter.
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