like a wild thing

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame His humor really only manifested in the comfort of those he knew; otherwise he remained the reserved, reticent beast, keeping everyone else at a safe distance. The levels and layers of his mischief were much the same, and he could only arch a brow in her direction, the snicker etching its way on his lips merely a tell-tale sign that he didn’t regard her reputation in either direction. Hotaru had always sown her own antics into everything she committed. The depths of his eyes fell back to their cooking squirrels, rotating, spinning the handle of the spit, and for some reason not expecting her to come around and embrace him. If it were not Hotaru or any other of his loved ones, he might have stiffened, become rigid, taut, unyielding, unbending, stark, and cold. Instead, he laughed at her antics, and if his hands weren’t full, he would’ve, could’ve, easily snapped her up and spun her around, as he’d done when they reunited, monarchs forged back together in the unknown. “We can celebrate later,” the Sword promised – receptions and parties, a wealth of contentment and happiness where they could find it. “We would appreciate any help.” He didn’t allow the feeling of overwhelming conjectures brim and surface, that would likely come later, and merely tried to sink into the feeling of satisfaction. “Thank you,” was a whisper, but a heartfelt one all the same. Then they could break apart their squirrels, toasting and cajoling, his head bending down to hide the warm depths of his smile. {-FIN} master of nothing place; of recoil and grace