Gettin' high then fallin', getting tall then crawlin'

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

Awaiting the verdict as the others dispersed back to other conversations, his brow remained arched, the good humor not spurned away, but the feeling of some other obligation beginning to hover, threaten. When it turned out to be items, of the temperature altering variety, he snorted, recalling the jackets he’d made both Kiada and Dantalion for venturing into Halo, granting them minor moments of no frozen perils, only to have it reversed this time. Balancing for the upcoming desert endeavors; unsurprising, given the climate. He had wondered what her intentions would be amidst the blazing sun – or if she would’ve preferred taking a more nocturnal approach and saving multitudes of the work for the evening chill. “Did you have any design specifics in mind?” came on the initial inquiry, maneuvering his palm upwards in a faint golden glow as paper and charcoal came to life in his hands, passed over the table so she might draw something to her liking.

And as much as Deimos had readily given and granted and bestowed in liberating tendencies over the years, it had also burned him more than once. At the very least, Colt tried to extend payment for the convenience and service – otherwise she would’ve probably been marching towards a deity for the same semblance of an item. The offer to compensate drew another level of intrigue; granting a light smile, a head tilt on a long breath. “Depends on the compensation.”

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I