Deimos
Given how their last venture with marshmallows had gone (not that he was complaining), obtaining one for himself before chaos struck had been a paramount vision. Twirling the stick in his hands, permitting the sugary confection to become a golden brown, through complete, utter control of flames and heat, his gaze landed solely on her, snorting at the commiseration. “Maybe that makes it worse,” he added, with a wry curl of his nose to indicate self-deprecation, but yielding thereafter to nothing of the sort. “You would probably be a natural.” With the pun indicated there, he still arched his brow, waiting for some other turn of phrase. Given the Evergreen’s penchant for healing, mending, assuring, and soothing, despite all the other antics emboldened within, he presumed the adaptation would be quick and swift.
But to handwave away any other residual worries, especially between Evie and Cordelia (sorted, he thought, at least in the aftermath of the war), his deep rumble persisted along the crackling of the fire. “I delivered our gifts too.” From there, he lowered the stick down to his long fingers, extracting the sticky mass from the bough, and then instead of placing it between crackers and chocolate, opted to eat it whole. “A test,” he murmured around the substance, and snagged at another one immediately to repeat the process, ensuring all the other ingredients were at her disposal and grasp.
Stare going back her way once he’d repeated his gestures, Deimos didn’t expect the striking gaze pinpointed upon him. Cheeks immediately flushing, because years of it still left him blushing, his grin followed the contentment, the tranquility. Maybe one day he would grow used to the notions of love pulsed and pervaded, surrounding him wholeheartedly, instead of surprise and astonishment, as if she knew exactly how to catch him unaware. That he deserved it, and she did too, and together they conquered the multitudes of demons surrounding their lives. “Happy,” an echo and a truth, a quiet rumble for her ears alone.
Thereafter, he leaned forward, intentionally pressing his lips to her nose, and leaving behind marshmallow.
But to handwave away any other residual worries, especially between Evie and Cordelia (sorted, he thought, at least in the aftermath of the war), his deep rumble persisted along the crackling of the fire. “I delivered our gifts too.” From there, he lowered the stick down to his long fingers, extracting the sticky mass from the bough, and then instead of placing it between crackers and chocolate, opted to eat it whole. “A test,” he murmured around the substance, and snagged at another one immediately to repeat the process, ensuring all the other ingredients were at her disposal and grasp.
Stare going back her way once he’d repeated his gestures, Deimos didn’t expect the striking gaze pinpointed upon him. Cheeks immediately flushing, because years of it still left him blushing, his grin followed the contentment, the tranquility. Maybe one day he would grow used to the notions of love pulsed and pervaded, surrounding him wholeheartedly, instead of surprise and astonishment, as if she knew exactly how to catch him unaware. That he deserved it, and she did too, and together they conquered the multitudes of demons surrounding their lives. “Happy,” an echo and a truth, a quiet rumble for her ears alone.
Thereafter, he leaned forward, intentionally pressing his lips to her nose, and leaving behind marshmallow.
it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites
It's the fire it ignites
