DEIMOS
It might not have mattered at all what he said (leaving out the bits and pieces that a majority of these movements and motions had been for her), listening to the derisive way she answered; absorbing the blow and the bitterness. He understood why. He expected it, truly, in the wake of things she faced. Whether or not he deserved it was another notion, eyes falling away from hers, to the bed, the crisp white linen with its own residual glow, and down to where toes moved. His smile receded, small, but there, proud, determined, still stalwart because anything else meant fumbling and falling. At least she was trying – because there could be worse moments, tenser, tauter fragments, and his jaw clenched, silenced in the lull.
The Sword’s gaze only landed back on her when her sharpened tone carried and she refused; another expectation, anticipation. The layers of impish accord hadn’t worked, a trial, a farce at best perhaps. Complete utter composure was the only sentiment he had remaining, chiseling away at the foundations, at the fortifications, digging deeper and deeper into emboldened tenacity. Deimos didn’t bite or claw into the other comments, only the latter, only the last, taking opportunity where he could. “It does.” And ordinarily he would respect her wishes, to a certain degree (at least in bemusement standpoints), but his shoulders were mighty and his soul could withstand a few more blunt, keen shots in his direction.
And without a further word or warning, his hands pulled off sheets, intending to slip his arms underneath her legs, and lift her straight off the bed, curling her back into his chest.
The Sword’s gaze only landed back on her when her sharpened tone carried and she refused; another expectation, anticipation. The layers of impish accord hadn’t worked, a trial, a farce at best perhaps. Complete utter composure was the only sentiment he had remaining, chiseling away at the foundations, at the fortifications, digging deeper and deeper into emboldened tenacity. Deimos didn’t bite or claw into the other comments, only the latter, only the last, taking opportunity where he could. “It does.” And ordinarily he would respect her wishes, to a certain degree (at least in bemusement standpoints), but his shoulders were mighty and his soul could withstand a few more blunt, keen shots in his direction.
And without a further word or warning, his hands pulled off sheets, intending to slip his arms underneath her legs, and lift her straight off the bed, curling her back into his chest.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
