Deimos
suns for bones and constellations for eyes
Given his predilection to spoiling anyone in his close sanctions, Deimos snorted, but took the words for what they were worth. He wrapped one arm around her, tucking her in close to his hip, while shaking his head and delivering warm laughter – portions of exactly what was needed as the chaotic events of Deepfrost escalated. To ward off the rest of any weeping, he angled towards the food. “How about some cake?” They’d all be able to find their favorites, as he’d long since taken orders, and cut them up, slice by slice and piece by piece, and savor them to their heart’s content. A light birthday party, but worthwhile and wonderful nonetheless.
[FIN]
