Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
There should’ve been no trepidation at all with her upcoming nuptials. But Deimos understood – those always inherent feelings of apprehension and pressure, even with something that could only be delightful and precious. All the flutters and worries would hopefully be dissuade the moment everything came together, and these residual feelings would be just that. So he gave an encouraging smile, head tilted only vaguely to glance down at Erebos squealing away, happy and content again with his rattle.Her surprise, and perhaps an instant to jumble her out of prior contemplations, eased another soft smile upon his features. He’d witnessed the same thing happen to her last year; he’d been gratified to see not only Rexanna’s soul safe within Mort’s Realm, but that the love between mother and daughter had still been present and raw and real, despite a course of circumstances.
“Really,” he whispered in return, with a light snort to dissuade a lot of other emotions threatening below the surface. “She said some things I needed to hear.” That likely Kiada, and many others, had offered to him again and again, but it had to have come from the one who’d suffered; to know, in all the unwinding hells, devastations, and ruins, that she didn’t blame him for the horrendous pitfalls of that LongNight – even when he had for many years. His gaze flickered elsewhere, mind roaming, trying to circumnavigate the tumultuous leagues still bordering on his shoulders. “Do you want to save a space for her in the wedding, maybe? Could fill it with a lantern.” As a way to honor her, perhaps – but only if the Harpy was comfortable.
