DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
The kiss was returned, deepened with gratitude, snagging at the cold on her face with the remaining warmth of his presence, content in giving another reason for flushed cheeks. He only stepped back to snag at another piece of bacon before she could, head tilting vaguely as he listened her explanation – eyes narrowing slightly at the thought of the warriors relief at not having him hovering nearby. But time, especially now, was a finite thing, and despite the multitude of weights bearing over his shoulders, he could take these transient, flitting moments.
Even if they were due and damned to be consigned to discomfort, if the alternating subjects were to be believed. The Sword would have gladly taken other opportunities to spend the fleeting hours, rather than the impending discussion.
Shrugging off his jacket and placing it back on the hook, his long strides swept along the kitchen, snagging at plates from the cabinets as the heart of the matter strung its way down his spine. A long, perhaps sullen, sigh began to unwind behind it, and he found the residual irritation beginning to form along the back of his skull – as frustrated as he’d been amidst the conversation with the courier. “I fear it may ruin your morning,” and then he returned to the table, snagging at utensils to parse through the food and ensure they had equal portions. “From what I understood and saw, Talyson seemed to have a problem with you. So I asked him if that was true, and for the reasons behind it.” His gaze flicked towards hers, watching and waiting, a perusal, a study in reactions.
Even if they were due and damned to be consigned to discomfort, if the alternating subjects were to be believed. The Sword would have gladly taken other opportunities to spend the fleeting hours, rather than the impending discussion.
Shrugging off his jacket and placing it back on the hook, his long strides swept along the kitchen, snagging at plates from the cabinets as the heart of the matter strung its way down his spine. A long, perhaps sullen, sigh began to unwind behind it, and he found the residual irritation beginning to form along the back of his skull – as frustrated as he’d been amidst the conversation with the courier. “I fear it may ruin your morning,” and then he returned to the table, snagging at utensils to parse through the food and ensure they had equal portions. “From what I understood and saw, Talyson seemed to have a problem with you. So I asked him if that was true, and for the reasons behind it.” His gaze flicked towards hers, watching and waiting, a perusal, a study in reactions.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
