i fell in love with a war
As Idalia starts to wail at his touch, Icarus flinches back like his hand had graced a hot poker. He could not look more aghast at the product of his own actions if he had taken a life with his bare hands, and utter horror of what he’s done fills his eyes. Deimos’ body shifts into the defensive, the way Icarus has seen it done against imaginary enemies and opponents in the drills he runs, and he shirks back instinctively, his own shoulders curving into the set of defense.
”Sorry,” He said quietly, his voice cracking halfway through the word. Color rises to his cheeks again and in a violent, crashing wave, he's once again reminded of his station. The line he was so had been toeing, so carefully disrupted in the unreality of this warm and green haven once again solidifies in front of him. Without his conscious direction, his body shifts and adjusts, moving itself once again to stand at ease as it had when he first set his eyes on Deimos as the man soothes the crying baby. "I don't mean..." He trails off, eyes casting downward.
As Deimos warns him, Icarus takes it in with all the gravity and seriousness of an order given, nodding gravely. The words sound like a rebuke and a warning mixed into one dire statement, and the young soldier nods, his flower crown loose and almost forgotten in his hand. "Of course, sir," He murmurs, voice hard and set. He hadn't been planning on doing anything irresponsible, but dread begins to curl in his stomach for the capacity he could have for things going horribly wrong; after all, this moment of fun had curled into itself and died, just like seemingly all the others had before it.
He feels caught now, half-soldier, half-boy, unsure of he should leave without being dismissed and unsure if Deimos even thinks he needs to dismiss him. Another apology burns at the back of his throat, but for what, he's not even sure.
”Sorry,” He said quietly, his voice cracking halfway through the word. Color rises to his cheeks again and in a violent, crashing wave, he's once again reminded of his station. The line he was so had been toeing, so carefully disrupted in the unreality of this warm and green haven once again solidifies in front of him. Without his conscious direction, his body shifts and adjusts, moving itself once again to stand at ease as it had when he first set his eyes on Deimos as the man soothes the crying baby. "I don't mean..." He trails off, eyes casting downward.
As Deimos warns him, Icarus takes it in with all the gravity and seriousness of an order given, nodding gravely. The words sound like a rebuke and a warning mixed into one dire statement, and the young soldier nods, his flower crown loose and almost forgotten in his hand. "Of course, sir," He murmurs, voice hard and set. He hadn't been planning on doing anything irresponsible, but dread begins to curl in his stomach for the capacity he could have for things going horribly wrong; after all, this moment of fun had curled into itself and died, just like seemingly all the others had before it.
He feels caught now, half-soldier, half-boy, unsure of he should leave without being dismissed and unsure if Deimos even thinks he needs to dismiss him. Another apology burns at the back of his throat, but for what, he's not even sure.
Icarus
and nobody told me it ended
