DEIMOS
Another loud snort rumbled through his chest. Deimos did often wonder how successful Ru had become in her business enterprise; he’d known how long it took to drag him into the facility. But then again, he’d also returned – so maybe the same could be said for the multitudes of tired, resolute Halovians, who’d suffered enough under so many acts.At his tactics and tricks though, he shrugged his shoulders, the Cheshire grin dutifully in place. Eventually meandering towards the tangible bench as well, leaning further against the stone pillars and rims, he extended an arm, ensuring she was firmly tucked up along his side, mud and all. “I suppose,” he breathed and sighed, permitting a rise in the temperature around them, the warmth pooling, curling, and contorting once more, content to wrap around. Leaning over and placing his lips against her hairline, and loosening a breath to purposefully watch a few crimson strands stick up amidst their mired brethren, the Sword was content for a few moments of silence.
Then he eyed several mudballs that had slowly fallen down the wall, staring at them in the flickering candlelight; much like an individual might observe clouds and their ever-changing shapes. “Bet I can make that one look like Sunjata,” jutting his head towards the extended work of impending…art.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
