DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Deimos had come a long way from the days of Reaper tendencies, where he hadn’t been permitted to touch anyone or anything without death knells crossing, pressing into their wake. Here, where affection was applied in readied doses (how and why and when he’d earned them was beyond his comprehension), he tolerated a fair amount (depending on the individual), but it was difficult to fight down the age-old habit of reeling away from others. From guarding them and himself, from striving to protect and rigidly refuse, blend into shadow and darkness at will. So it wasn’t so much discomfort as whims and raptures he’d simply have to get used to, a learning curve, instead of unyielding, unattainable lines.Rexanna knew him well enough to comprehend his forbearance levels, despite yesteryears and past lives where she’d crossed too far, and he was left with bright smiles instead. He arched his brow in the way she chimed, suddenly, eerily suspicious, narrowing his eyes in silent speculation. “You do not have to give us anything,” shaking his head, an assurance level. Just the company, just the celebration, just the grandeur of the moment.
Unite and spread the heart apart
