DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
If anyone ever asked him, the Reaper would say he had never been nervous, apprehensive, or anxious his entire life. He was a man of preparation, calculations, and precision – there were moments strung together by projections, predictions, and predilections. His actions and motives, his movements and motions, were nearly always practical, dedicated, efficient, and without fuss. The military had taught him exceptionally well in all areas of control, composure, and tenacity.But his eyes kept catching the clock, and when the predetermined time rolled around, and then the hands kept ticking farther, steamrolling into a vivid expansion – more than just seconds, more than just minutes, the trepidation began.
There could’ve been a thousand different scenarios explaining her lack of appearance. She’d been held up at the bakery. She was making deliveries and lost track of time. Something exploded. She’d been otherwise detained. She’d gotten into a fight with the local guards (again). She’d irritated the Fae and been captured once more. She’d been praying and was called away by one of her favored gods.
Or – she didn’t want to come.
He pushed the thoughts away, because there was half a second where he surmised he’d have to vacate his home, go out and find her, and then the entire situation would spiral into something he wouldn’t know how to handle (he didn’t know what to do with any of this). Faith and conviction kept him from twitching and falling apart at his wit’s end, or glancing at the clock once more. Perhaps he ought to be sharpening more knives. His eyes flickered to the grouse, idle notions continuing to flicker back into his mind.
The knock on the door, resounding, reverberating, along the outskirts of his home, made him raise his head like some kind of alerted predator; the wild heartbeat ricocheting through his chest calmed and stilled, the frenetic energy replaced by calm, by composure, because the warrior never maintained any sense of agitated energy, as he went to open the door.
The sharp, piercing depth of his eyes caught the scratches, blue streaks on cheeks, a slight dishevelment that caused him to tilt his head, hiding laughter that might have just been instigated by immense, intense relief. A smile coiled itself along his mouth instead, boyish and youthful on her alighted appearance. “Come in,” he beckoned, a hand extended to grab her basket, another one to reach along the small of her back.
Unite and spread the heart apart
