DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Words and touches, figments and realities, tangible things with weight and meaning, pulled him out of the mulishness threatening his features. It was easy to fight off the notions of rest and ease when there were so many other things demanding and commanding their attention, and just as simple for him to fall and fade into old habits. But still, the regrets and rue counterbalanced something along his mind, and he wrinkled his nose once more, striving to peel the right sentiments out of the penchants for melancholy. “I apologize – if I make that difficult.” Because in the past – in the present - maybe he had. Turning his hand over, his fingers gave a light squeeze to hers, before the other palm and its weaponry ultimately skewered the lettuce.
She must have sensed the incoming mood shift, not permitting hm to retreat into those brooding fixtures with a smile and a joke. Releasing her hand, he snorted. “I suppose.” They had theirs after all. His machinations were always at work there.
But he did watch as she ran over the possibilities of upcoming breaks. He’d sacrifice his outright abhorrence and hatred for a land if it meant something out of it – like their rest and relaxation – but Evie seemed even more eager to not fold into the wakes and weights of the desert again. Muffling a laugh in his chest, he glanced back at his plate, chasing after another strawberry while she gave her internal debate.
The alternative was enough anyway – even though he had to blink again and try to visualize a panda. With that decision made, and the corner of his mouth dimpling along another grin, he persisted, striving for new angles. “All right. When?”
She must have sensed the incoming mood shift, not permitting hm to retreat into those brooding fixtures with a smile and a joke. Releasing her hand, he snorted. “I suppose.” They had theirs after all. His machinations were always at work there.
But he did watch as she ran over the possibilities of upcoming breaks. He’d sacrifice his outright abhorrence and hatred for a land if it meant something out of it – like their rest and relaxation – but Evie seemed even more eager to not fold into the wakes and weights of the desert again. Muffling a laugh in his chest, he glanced back at his plate, chasing after another strawberry while she gave her internal debate.
The alternative was enough anyway – even though he had to blink again and try to visualize a panda. With that decision made, and the corner of his mouth dimpling along another grin, he persisted, striving for new angles. “All right. When?”
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
