DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
“Always,” he murmured with a vague wrinkle to his nose, as if he’d been plagued with such information and had listened to multitudes of lectures on the subjects. When she only responded to his mischievous and potentially, purposefully devious advances, other than a poke to his ribs, he sighed, lingering along pretenses as he playfully squirmed away from her finger. “Yes, but we wanted them here, which I think is a stark difference.” Though, one could make an argument in the case of Belial, who had simply bonded with the Sword because he could.
The relief seemed to cling further into his bones now though – not the weight of it, but the tangibility, the potential, the prowess, of not needing to rush headlong into battle or worry for his family the moment they stepped foot out the door. More so than any residual trepidations, anyway.
Bordering on another lure and taunt, he sighed, purposefully sounding put upon, sinking further back into the pillow. “I suppose if you do not deign to spend more time here,” heavily implied on ‘in bed with him’ and more worthwhile distractions, “we can start breakfast and those Ludo costumes.”
The relief seemed to cling further into his bones now though – not the weight of it, but the tangibility, the potential, the prowess, of not needing to rush headlong into battle or worry for his family the moment they stepped foot out the door. More so than any residual trepidations, anyway.
Bordering on another lure and taunt, he sighed, purposefully sounding put upon, sinking further back into the pillow. “I suppose if you do not deign to spend more time here,” heavily implied on ‘in bed with him’ and more worthwhile distractions, “we can start breakfast and those Ludo costumes.”
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
