Deimos
True – he wouldn’t be touching any burnt or charred food, not when there were so many ways of ensuring that didn’t occur. Rolling his eyes at the crunch and snap of its coal edges hustling towards her mouth, he shook his head and grimaced, turning his attention to his own marshmallow.
A scoff was soon to follow, testing and taunting in all their habitual mannerisms, wrinkling his nose. “How would you be able to tell?” Perfectionism often harbored and rooted itself amidst the Sword’s facets, and he certainly wouldn’t have permitted cribs, whether magically created or constructed, to persuade him into failure. “Or the Kraai?” Which elicited a roar of laughter, because of the foolish, stupid imagery alone.
The smile remained when discussing Kiada, if a little softer. “She is. Maybe she would be able to come over for dinner.” And perhaps not a horrid reminder of other past family excursions of the same; years away from the last one they’d had together – when Samuel was still alive and striving to figure out the Voice’s machinations. Something to ask and ponder, if the Harpy was willing.
Thereafter though he was distracted, and rightfully so, by the Evergreen’s antics. She had in fact found the box, by serendipitous chance, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as she seemed to peruse the container, but not open it. Which of course ensured her marshmallow fell into the fire, and he couldn’t help the swift motions of granting her his own (another gilded confection), and plucking the vessel out of her hands. Leaning his stick back against his legs, he arched a brow, giving nothing away, and granting a Cheshire grin as his calloused palm enclosed over the box. “Meant to be a surprise,” as if he hadn’t purposefully planted it there, or that his heart had suddenly quickened.
Teasingly, he kept it within the center of his hand. “What would be your preference – invisibility or fortune?”
A scoff was soon to follow, testing and taunting in all their habitual mannerisms, wrinkling his nose. “How would you be able to tell?” Perfectionism often harbored and rooted itself amidst the Sword’s facets, and he certainly wouldn’t have permitted cribs, whether magically created or constructed, to persuade him into failure. “Or the Kraai?” Which elicited a roar of laughter, because of the foolish, stupid imagery alone.
The smile remained when discussing Kiada, if a little softer. “She is. Maybe she would be able to come over for dinner.” And perhaps not a horrid reminder of other past family excursions of the same; years away from the last one they’d had together – when Samuel was still alive and striving to figure out the Voice’s machinations. Something to ask and ponder, if the Harpy was willing.
Thereafter though he was distracted, and rightfully so, by the Evergreen’s antics. She had in fact found the box, by serendipitous chance, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as she seemed to peruse the container, but not open it. Which of course ensured her marshmallow fell into the fire, and he couldn’t help the swift motions of granting her his own (another gilded confection), and plucking the vessel out of her hands. Leaning his stick back against his legs, he arched a brow, giving nothing away, and granting a Cheshire grin as his calloused palm enclosed over the box. “Meant to be a surprise,” as if he hadn’t purposefully planted it there, or that his heart had suddenly quickened.
Teasingly, he kept it within the center of his hand. “What would be your preference – invisibility or fortune?”
it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites
It's the fire it ignites
