Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Very tempted to alter the lights into something even more juvenile, he ceased when her attention indulged along his jaw, tapping along his cheek, amused all the more. His brow arched, incessantly mischievous, barely concealing other base thoughts and patterns. “Where would you like them?”Leaving Kiada’s engagement bliss to her and Fox seemed a more noteworthy gesture, and he nodded, a light laugh piercing through while he altered the fragments and factions of color upon the décor, eyes flickering back to hers within an instant. “Efficient. Hopefully she will have enough of us willing to aid that it will not be so stressful.” They’d managed with the support of their own brethren in between duties to Halo.
But then there was waiting for the other reaction – and he could feel his breath stifle, held a moment or two, to gauge the plausibilities and possibilities. He didn’t expect her to voice to crack, not in those calculations, or to be immediately surrounded in her happy, unfurling sentiments; instinctually bending to meet her temple and features. For half a moment he intended to ask if she was all right, if it was overwhelming, but the answer seemed to quantify in the sudden rush and lifting of incantations through him – not his own magic by any means, but hers. He was familiar with the web of her lines and the stretch of her abilities, but this sheltering, soothing, sanctifying means had never been able to trace through his frame, as much as she’d tried, and the tenderness sank into his bones with such a heady rush, he couldn’t help but laugh, smile, grin against her features. “Beautiful,” he murmured into her hair, into her cheek; just like her and in every sense of the word. “I am sorry I did not get to feel it before,” through no fault of his own – but the apology was there nonetheless – perhaps for the person he’d been well beyond those touches and fragments.
