Damien
and every demon wants his pound of flesh
but i like to keep some things to myself
but i like to keep some things to myself
“Alright,” Damien said at last, voice muffled behind the board she still had him pinned under, “I’ll be sure to write him a note about your very impressive skills first chance I get. Careful, though—he may want you to join the guild at that point.” His eyes flicked upward, catching hers over the crooked edge of wood. For some reason, he actually meant it. Deimos was a busy man, and letters traveled easier than people did. A little report slipped in with the rest of the guild’s messengers might not be such a bad idea.
Nova’s solemn little act of mercy earned a short laugh out of him. Not the polite kind, either—something more natural, something he’d been holding in all day. “Thanks,” he managed, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Though truth be told, I much prefer playing the good guy.”
When she finally spun off him, all glitter and giggles, Damien lay still for a beat longer, catching his breath. She made it hard to keep his guard up; the endless energy, the strange innocence behind it. He pushed himself upright with more effort than she had, brushing snow and grit from the front of his coat, his movements methodical, deliberate.
By the time he joined her at the pups’ side, she already had them wriggling with glee, soaking up her scritches like they’d known her their whole lives. Damien crouched beside her, steady hands untying the knots at their leashes. The dogs panted and whined, tails wagging furiously, eager for whatever came next.
“Most likely,” he started, watching their ears perk toward him, “I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon with these two.” He hesitated, just a flicker of pause before he added, “Might go and get something to eat first, though…” His eyes slid sideways to her, measuring her with the faintest hint of a smile. “You can come with us, if you want. I know a place that makes excellent ningo soup. Unless you're in a hurry to get back to... ?” His brows scrunched together then. Had she said where she was from? He couldn't remember.
Nova’s solemn little act of mercy earned a short laugh out of him. Not the polite kind, either—something more natural, something he’d been holding in all day. “Thanks,” he managed, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Though truth be told, I much prefer playing the good guy.”
When she finally spun off him, all glitter and giggles, Damien lay still for a beat longer, catching his breath. She made it hard to keep his guard up; the endless energy, the strange innocence behind it. He pushed himself upright with more effort than she had, brushing snow and grit from the front of his coat, his movements methodical, deliberate.
By the time he joined her at the pups’ side, she already had them wriggling with glee, soaking up her scritches like they’d known her their whole lives. Damien crouched beside her, steady hands untying the knots at their leashes. The dogs panted and whined, tails wagging furiously, eager for whatever came next.
“Most likely,” he started, watching their ears perk toward him, “I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon with these two.” He hesitated, just a flicker of pause before he added, “Might go and get something to eat first, though…” His eyes slid sideways to her, measuring her with the faintest hint of a smile. “You can come with us, if you want. I know a place that makes excellent ningo soup. Unless you're in a hurry to get back to... ?” His brows scrunched together then. Had she said where she was from? He couldn't remember.
