Deimos
The first inquiry drew him to a sharpened height, and then a quick shake of his head, the notion incomprehensible. “I would not,” leaning over immediately to press his mouth against the crimson crown of her head. He’d been abandoned and discarded as if nothing more than a cheap piece in the name of the demigod’s growth, and the wounds it had caused had been felt for years later; scars marred, deep, bruising, lacerations coursing around the blackened portions of a frigid heart once more. It had thawed over time, healed and nurtured, but the consideration of blending himself back into her graces had never been there.
Then he listened, to each and every one of the potentials Evie granted and gave, only mildly nonplussed that it made sense in the orbit of the Valkyrie. But he had to sigh at the lengths of why Ru would sway towards the comfort and familiarity, the known affections, of Sunjata, no matter how many other suitors might have immersed themselves in her grasp. George had bored her. Others hadn’t been enough in one way or another. But the Flood always presided in some stupid amount of drama and trauma, and maybe that was what she wanted. And he could’ve grumbled and hated and loathed the very idea of it, but he couldn’t stop her, nor would try to. “Well, I still hate him,” he added mulishly, comprehending it didn’t help matters, but it kept Halo away from the fool’s clutches.
Her sharper outlook on his own residual guilt though permitted him the lightest of smiles, striving to drift away from the columns of misunderstanding, and knowing he was going to have to take another initial step, instead of pushing away or sullenly drifting apart. Thereafter though, his gaze meandered to the grounds they wandered across, pondering all the other meanings – how one could hide even in the most overt vestiges, and how he did much the same sometimes; yearning to evade by manners and matters of avoidance. He did manage to look slightly sheepish as she pointed her gaze in his direction, wrinkling his nose. “I know. But does that mean she was never happy here?”
Then he listened, to each and every one of the potentials Evie granted and gave, only mildly nonplussed that it made sense in the orbit of the Valkyrie. But he had to sigh at the lengths of why Ru would sway towards the comfort and familiarity, the known affections, of Sunjata, no matter how many other suitors might have immersed themselves in her grasp. George had bored her. Others hadn’t been enough in one way or another. But the Flood always presided in some stupid amount of drama and trauma, and maybe that was what she wanted. And he could’ve grumbled and hated and loathed the very idea of it, but he couldn’t stop her, nor would try to. “Well, I still hate him,” he added mulishly, comprehending it didn’t help matters, but it kept Halo away from the fool’s clutches.
Her sharper outlook on his own residual guilt though permitted him the lightest of smiles, striving to drift away from the columns of misunderstanding, and knowing he was going to have to take another initial step, instead of pushing away or sullenly drifting apart. Thereafter though, his gaze meandered to the grounds they wandered across, pondering all the other meanings – how one could hide even in the most overt vestiges, and how he did much the same sometimes; yearning to evade by manners and matters of avoidance. He did manage to look slightly sheepish as she pointed her gaze in his direction, wrinkling his nose. “I know. But does that mean she was never happy here?”
what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.
