i fell in love with a war
Icarus flinches as the stumpy dragon takes some happy leaps forward, barely registering the sway of the bridge under it and focusing more on the thing's movement. This would be significantly easier if the manifestation of his trauma wasn't bouncing around on the bridge, and for a second, the ice flickers back into water as the little dragon flits around in the corner of Icarus' vision. Then his soldier's instincts click back into place and it fades out of view, everything but the bridge and the ice and the man's voice focusing his attention into a singular, determined pinprick.
"You're friends with Deimos?" If he sounds starstuck, it's because he is -- Icarus admires the man with a fervor typically only reserved for the kind people have for their own father. Constantly traipsing around in his shadow, working harder and harder at every exercise, fighting tooth and claw for a single indication he's making the man proud, Icarus would do anything for a glimpse of that mysterious, curved smile directed at him. This man on the bridge suddenly grows significantly more mysterious to him -- and dangerous. Anyone friends with Deimos with a dragon companion is an unsolvable something not to be trifled with. He can feel his spine stiffening again, iron laced into his bones, and keeps the man in the center of the corner of his eye as he wobbles across the bridge.
His knee wobbles and the ice thickens an inch or two under his feet. "Since I was a kid," He answers, mindful of the way the sky sways back and forth as he places another foot on an ice-backed step. "I was twelve? Thirteen? Something like that. I think it's been five years now." The youngest in the company by years, the chip on his shoulder grows in anticipation for whatever the man has to say.
"How do you know Deimos?" He hedges, placing another foot down in front of him.
"You're friends with Deimos?" If he sounds starstuck, it's because he is -- Icarus admires the man with a fervor typically only reserved for the kind people have for their own father. Constantly traipsing around in his shadow, working harder and harder at every exercise, fighting tooth and claw for a single indication he's making the man proud, Icarus would do anything for a glimpse of that mysterious, curved smile directed at him. This man on the bridge suddenly grows significantly more mysterious to him -- and dangerous. Anyone friends with Deimos with a dragon companion is an unsolvable something not to be trifled with. He can feel his spine stiffening again, iron laced into his bones, and keeps the man in the center of the corner of his eye as he wobbles across the bridge.
His knee wobbles and the ice thickens an inch or two under his feet. "Since I was a kid," He answers, mindful of the way the sky sways back and forth as he places another foot on an ice-backed step. "I was twelve? Thirteen? Something like that. I think it's been five years now." The youngest in the company by years, the chip on his shoulder grows in anticipation for whatever the man has to say.
"How do you know Deimos?" He hedges, placing another foot down in front of him.
Icarus
and nobody told me it ended
