Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Her appearance was celestial as always – the constancy and beauty of starlight pooled and spilled, then hushed and still. Long gone were the days of dread, and instead he wrinkled his nose at her tease, permitting a smile to slip through at the jest. “Could not have that,” nor would he; well versed in ensuring his presence wasn’t something obnoxious nor overt. She stepped away and he watched as she traced from flowers to armor, granting her acknowledgment with a light nod of his head and another grin, content that the arrangement had been to her liking – then waited for her powers to sink further into the leviathan’s might. The magic unfurled and wound, far deeper, far greater, far brighter than he’d ever be able to conduct or create, but there was no envy there. Only trust and conviction, why he’d gone to her in the first place. “Thank you,” for the opportunities, again and again, to prove himself. It’d be one more lacquered portion of protection to utilize against whatever encompassed the future.
[FIN]
