In my stomach is butterflies

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The second house was much like the initial – though with less steps and a larger porch. Smirking, then scratching the top of Belial’s head as he went to grab the next bundle of wood, he hadn’t expected compliments from Elizabeth, but nodded and smiled at them regardless. “Thank you. And she is.” If the therapist kept her roots immersed in Halo long enough, she’d be certain to meet the Evergreen; they were in a similar field of mending and soothing. “She heals as well.” They could likely have multitudes of insightful conversations, given the multitudes of occupations. Stride elongating to place the parcel of timber on the doorstep, he nearly snorted at the next inquiry. There were a number of responses he could’ve gone with; the quiet contentment with one another, the increasingly irritating and annoying bouts of mischief, the familiarity and comfort, the strength and serenity, the blend of shared histories, pondering over which would unfurl first – but he wasn’t going to give those over so readily to someone who was a stranger. Arching a brow, his stare, though not menacing or brutal, would indicate he wasn’t giving over those distinctions. “I will keep those answers for her.” He smiled, to show he wasn’t bothered, offended, or cross, but also not eager to readily share such information. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace