near half-empty

Deimos Not slipping into the river’s depths turned out to be a plausible, dignified decision, since Libbs arrived shortly thereafter – an arch to his brow signifying nothing but some primordial curiosity. She’d certainly come prepared for their venture along the forest borders, something to be appreciated and noted, since he instinctively followed the same motions whenever he traversed or meant to be in harm’s way (which, unfortunately, was often). The fiend didn’t expect this particular journey to be anything more than hunting down fronds, but one never knew what they’d encounter amongst Fae contortions and disastrous potentials. He thought Fiat Lux safe, after all. Look where that’d gotten all of them. Libbs hadn’t been here long enough to immerse herself in all of the treachery, the mayhem, the cataclysms. Perhaps that was why the eagerness, the ebullience, rolled off of her in waves, pulsed, pervaded, and beat along the canopies, boughs, and branches. He didn’t know how to face it, never had with any soul matching the same qualities, except accept its nuances and existences, maneuvering along the fault lines and fissures of shadow. “Afternoon,” he responded in kind, pondering how far they’d get before something went awry. “Our mission today,” a mockingly serious tone, perhaps to snag at her attention long enough, to pique her interest before it deviated and flew away, erupted and rumbled from his throat, “is to find a particular leaf.” He lowered his bag, withdrawing several jars already containing found fronds. “I need one almost at the end of its life.” Withered and decayed, but not completely sunken into rot and devastation. Then he placed them all back, his piercing eyes maneuvering back to her, waiting for some sort of acceptance, or another round of inquiries. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime