Deimos
If Evie felt shame, she needn’t have done so in front of him. No judgement segmented from his brow, nor his mind; given his experiences with LongNight too, and the way the void, the abyss, of those Hollowed Ground evenings bore a resemblance to terror and horror. Monsters thriving and roaming in the dark, legends and fables and tales recited to children come to life – with gnarled hands and knotted whims and mercurial intentions to vilify and destroy. But he had no other words for her, save for a nod of his head, the clarity and comprehension of understanding.
Quick to offer and bestow, Deimos still waited for some inevitable plunge of refusal. She had every right to refuse the potentials, even if it would discard some worried sentiments for the time being. The widening of her own eyes, the silence, pierced and penetrated a little more than he would’ve liked to admit, but he waited, patient and forbearing just the same; brow arching when the strength of her hand increased, when the acceptance forged onward. Snorting lightly, peeling away the apprehension once the affirmation settled, the ghost of his smile warmed instantly, curling deeper into the corners of his mouth. He made no mention of his relief – it’d be plain on his features. “All right.”
Then they parted, but only to persist in the growth of knowledge, of prowess, of abilities. Astute and shrewd, observant and studious, the Sword watched her stance, the way she pursued, shifted, decreed, and combined force and movement into a singular thread. “Good,” for she’d taken some of his notes to heart. “And what if they fight back?” To which she’d receive some brief warning, before he animated portions of the tree with his own Mastered Earth, ensuring some of the boughs came thundering through, intending on swinging towards her.
Quick to offer and bestow, Deimos still waited for some inevitable plunge of refusal. She had every right to refuse the potentials, even if it would discard some worried sentiments for the time being. The widening of her own eyes, the silence, pierced and penetrated a little more than he would’ve liked to admit, but he waited, patient and forbearing just the same; brow arching when the strength of her hand increased, when the acceptance forged onward. Snorting lightly, peeling away the apprehension once the affirmation settled, the ghost of his smile warmed instantly, curling deeper into the corners of his mouth. He made no mention of his relief – it’d be plain on his features. “All right.”
Then they parted, but only to persist in the growth of knowledge, of prowess, of abilities. Astute and shrewd, observant and studious, the Sword watched her stance, the way she pursued, shifted, decreed, and combined force and movement into a singular thread. “Good,” for she’d taken some of his notes to heart. “And what if they fight back?” To which she’d receive some brief warning, before he animated portions of the tree with his own Mastered Earth, ensuring some of the boughs came thundering through, intending on swinging towards her.
you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight
all venom and fistfight
