all that and more

Deimos Deimos had no predilection or notion that Kiada would be worried about him. Maybe it was because he rarely worried about himself, and considered others would treat him the same – the regards had been vastly similar in Helovia. Fight, rip, tear, bleed for his people, rinse and repeat, with not much lacquered and layered in between. Too used to the flames, to the bristling wares, to the height of pain, anguish, and lacerations, the lines of scars pressed into their ivory wake, riddled and scattered along his figure, were nothing. It meant more to ensure those he cherished were safe, protected, and shielded, and he’d remained committed to those actions. This year would be no different, defending, assailing, firm in his stalwart, stubborn, tenacious beliefs. But even if Kiada wasn’t there with them, he’d still worry. It was embedded and infused in his very nature, in the tight circle of family he’d concocted and created. She’d be safer in Halo though, away from the boundaries of fallen souls and dastardly monsters. He smiled, the generous turn of his mouth delving into a snicker as she considered, then accepted the proposition. Glancing down, he was snagged and caught on her icy stare, and he laughed again – as if she needed anyone’s permission to unleash her own brand of hell. “You have my permission,” for whatever that amounted to. Give them hell curled and coiled through their forged connections, amongst and amidst another bridge of amusement. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime