like a wild thing

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Pouting into the unknown had its means and measures, but had never been his strong suit. He couldn’t recall Hotaru truly fumbling into those petulant airs, but it’d been a long while since they’d had reason to – no invasions, no wars, no sneaking, no common familiarity with things they’d breathed within except incantations, and the rest of the brimming enigmas. He arched a brow and laughed, a shrug to his shoulders as he committed to the same actions as before, the slow rotations of the spit. “I prefer brooding.” A more juvenile tactic would be to stick out his tongue, but he refrained, composed for the moment – understanding the nature of wanting to exercise feral, savage vehemence and distortion from their souls, and this world too altered from their own. There was peace in between havoc. There was repose in between confusion and turmoil. There was kindness instead of rampant, gnarled, seething hatred – save for one or two individuals – and half the time he didn’t know what to do when faced with the compassions. Like even now, at his confession, he watched as Hotaru flailed her arms (in excitement? In joy?), eyes widening for a moment at the fear that she might launch entirely over the fire, but she seemed to realize the notion was folly. The following squeal was enough to make him laugh again, a warm smile gracing over the edges instead of the cold countenance of old. “Thank you.” He paused, staring down at the ground, uncertain of what else to say – never believing he’d be immersed in these moments. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace