you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
The Sword favored his armor and weapons, and so perhaps it was with greater circumstance that he had neither now. Even surrounded by the familiarity of a defensive world he’d built for himself, his warriors, and his citizens alike; the exposure left him seemingly bare, and more so than the lack of clothing. Safety and sanctity, trust and assurance, things he’d promised her, still had to be solidified in the base of his skull and the stronghold of his heart, each and every instant. And then they’d ring true, for beats and pulses, for whims and caprices, for faith and conviction, until they blended and mended, folded over all the healing scars and the broken lacerations he’d tended to himself. Day by day, little by little, trying and striving, reaching above the surfaces of those dreadful, blackened waters – now with another’s hand extended, reaching out, if he was willing to take it.
He bent under her movements, until brows brushed and met and some solidified laugh conjured along the minimal space between. “Okay,” was along the curve of a smile, more boyish and endearing, as if allowed to see the sun again. “Just be patient with me,” perhaps by warning, for the rooted hurts and the difficult entanglements, where places were still knotted and gnarled. “And I will do the same.”
Deimos nearly took the bump along his nose as a goading tactic, but reeled the competitive notions back in when the sentiments coincided, leading to a billowing snort. “Deal.” And by promise and oaths, his hands rose back up, to cradle her cheeks, for lips to meet, to solidify it all with certainties and shelter –
And then a rumble of his stomach echoed immediately thereafter, a hint of ignored routines for the sentiments of earlier foolishness. A soft laugh followed, shaking his head in her hold. “Are you hungry? I skipped dinner.”
He bent under her movements, until brows brushed and met and some solidified laugh conjured along the minimal space between. “Okay,” was along the curve of a smile, more boyish and endearing, as if allowed to see the sun again. “Just be patient with me,” perhaps by warning, for the rooted hurts and the difficult entanglements, where places were still knotted and gnarled. “And I will do the same.”
Deimos nearly took the bump along his nose as a goading tactic, but reeled the competitive notions back in when the sentiments coincided, leading to a billowing snort. “Deal.” And by promise and oaths, his hands rose back up, to cradle her cheeks, for lips to meet, to solidify it all with certainties and shelter –
And then a rumble of his stomach echoed immediately thereafter, a hint of ignored routines for the sentiments of earlier foolishness. A soft laugh followed, shaking his head in her hold. “Are you hungry? I skipped dinner.”
DEIMOS
