Seren
A wry look shot his way at the comment. Not untrue, but rather obnoxiously said - very redundant and self-explanatory - and it was tempting to pick at him for it. Seren snorted and let it lie. He was feeding her treats, after all.
Laughing at his self-deprecations, Seren shrugged lightly. "Fair enough. I appreciate it all the same - even if it ends up with me learning from your mistakes." She poked her tongue at him, then quickly skipped out of reach, in case he decided to throw something else at her.
On the whole, the mood had improved so much that the sudden shift in Deimos' posture and air was akin to a scream ripped into the still air. Seren paused and stilled in turn, afraid that she had said something wrong. The dread turned to certainty when the reply came; quiet and closed off, and so simple that she couldn't find purchase for her curiosity anywhere without digging claws in and tearing gouges into his silence.
They were married. A tragic story of love and loss nearly wrapped into three words.
"I see," the girl softly replied, when other words failed her. "I'm sorry, Deimos. I didn't mean to pry." And she would ask nothing about it, when the rigidity of his shoulders so clearly spoke of pain. Old, new, unforgotten? It didn't matter, she didn't need to know.
Easing herself over into his space, the starchild reached a hand for his shoulder in whatever sympathy and support - and apology - she could convey in so simple a gesture. Would offer hugs too, if he seemed inclined to accept them, though she did not count on it.
Laughing at his self-deprecations, Seren shrugged lightly. "Fair enough. I appreciate it all the same - even if it ends up with me learning from your mistakes." She poked her tongue at him, then quickly skipped out of reach, in case he decided to throw something else at her.
On the whole, the mood had improved so much that the sudden shift in Deimos' posture and air was akin to a scream ripped into the still air. Seren paused and stilled in turn, afraid that she had said something wrong. The dread turned to certainty when the reply came; quiet and closed off, and so simple that she couldn't find purchase for her curiosity anywhere without digging claws in and tearing gouges into his silence.
They were married. A tragic story of love and loss nearly wrapped into three words.
"I see," the girl softly replied, when other words failed her. "I'm sorry, Deimos. I didn't mean to pry." And she would ask nothing about it, when the rigidity of his shoulders so clearly spoke of pain. Old, new, unforgotten? It didn't matter, she didn't need to know.
Easing herself over into his space, the starchild reached a hand for his shoulder in whatever sympathy and support - and apology - she could convey in so simple a gesture. Would offer hugs too, if he seemed inclined to accept them, though she did not count on it.
Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood
Covered in our noble blood
