DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Her response invoked only the slightest inclination of his head, while thoughts spiraled, curled, and contorted off in different directions. It was satisfying to know the baker had some defensive or offensive capabilities in her, intriguing all the more when he’d seen bits and pieces of wildcat violence. However, he was also mildly concerned that it wouldn’t be enough when coming head-to-head with cutlasses, daggers, or any other weaponry entangled with adversaries (he made of a mental note of where her eyes lingered; twin daggers with intimidating curves). Leopard claws and agility were convenient as well – but what if -The Reaper ceased the meticulous deluge of his thoughts, not divulging any of it, except to state which might be more welcome, considering the surrounding circumstances. “Swordplay first then.” He offered her the smallest of winks in regard, then intended to turn his attentions back to peeling away the layers of the basket, mischief in bounds, striving to put distance between dim, grim prospects of the future, if the Merciless was to be believed in her conquests.
He’d drawn her back towards him though, her curiosity sacrificed for devilry and flirtation. The beast was fully aware of the traps and snares, but hung around them anyway, biding his time, courting, inviting, and teasing the lines, piercing eyes lingering on stained features and scratches. What had she been doing? “At least you are honest,” and he smirked, hovering around the incited challenge, understanding the notions of a dare suspended, waiting for him to grasp it. Those were the rules they’d always played by: someone instigated a provocation, a summons, and the other reveled, revered, twisted and turned within it, waiting to see what the other concocted. Deimos lingered listlessly, perfectly comfortable in their arrangement, on the soft, dulcet vibes of her coquettish interludes, gaze hooded, flickering down on her lips as he drifted closer and closer –
And pulled away to dig deeper into the basket contents, masking the rogue smirk threatening to inveigle his mouth. It dropped off into his nefarious roots anyway, once his hands ghosted over vegetables and dough, and her proclamations followed suit. Though he would likely enjoy the pie, he’d been looking for something mischievous to sink his pursuits and persistence into. However, this evolved into another opportunity, and he hid the lacquer of disappointment, eyes briefly ghosting to the other basket (and now that his ambitions had been revealed, it was unlikely he was going to get a chance to sneak into that one), before his stare slid back to her. “Repayment can always be in baking education.” It was an arch to his brow this time, the challenge reinstated, as his hands tugged the contents of the basket over to the waiting grouse.
Unite and spread the heart apart
