Deimos
we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in
He shrugged; a fair enough assignation, enticed to pull the farces and pretenses into some other conflagration, penchant for the ridiculous, a drifting away to see if she’d chase, wandering into the midst and throng, or disappearing into the crowd. The teasing plumed in another direction though, despite their clasped hands, a juxtaposition of their ruses and schemes, both eternally strung in either’s accord. He was half-tempted to smirk, snicker, and then proclaim she could earn his (except she wouldn’t have to do anything at all, already immersed into the sanctions of his melted, thawed heart), mockingly affronted by the rebuttal and rejection (but still; a sting in there somewhere, because maybe after all this time he still hadn’t been enough, and it was a thorn, a nettle, sticking into his side). that's how the l i g h t gets in
As if he’d been flicked upon the nose, the Sword’s head reeled back in feigned hurt, eyes cast back onto the looming crowd; hands never leaving hers. When the piercing depths eventually roamed and returned to her brightened ones, studying, scrutinizing, and narrowing, a rumble of his voice resounded and ricocheted; a deeper whisper, hushed reverberations for only her ears, her thoughts, her musings. “What do you desire?” Taunting, teasing, and purposefully tempting, uncertain if he should be out there stealing more flower crowns or bombarding the general public like they’d done in the previous year.
keep the ones who
h e a r d y o u
when you never said a word
h e a r d y o u
when you never said a word
