DEIMOS
The allowance and freedom would come with time – or in the interims where he permitted it to weigh out the balance of titles and responsibilities. Choked down by rubble and the past was not how he’d deigned to go about life in the surrounding years, striving to make those smaller steps into greater, grander strides; and sometimes even an inch felt like a mile. There were no shackles. No chains. No irons clasped around his feet. No noose bound around his throat. Nothing holding and tying him to desks or heads bowed against the grain of another duty, another tact - History could be a reminder, but it didn’t need to repeat so harshly.
His piercing eyes took in the alteration of her character, snorting out a refrain otherwise bit back behind teeth and jaws; the proposal far more intriguing than turning back the way they’d come and barking at another soldier. The promise of power and might, of unfurling those restless pools beneath scarred flesh and marrow and bone ensured his limbs carried him closer, until he was no longer following, but along her side. “All right,” carried on his low rumble in agreement, as the gates opened up, as the Tundra remained before them – pristine, save for the rolling hills and the dotting of tree lines and caves.
Machinations had already begun – but for amusements and might’s sake. “Throw it,” was a dare and a smirk, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
