DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Teasing and tormenting, inveigling and enticing, was a far more comfortable venture than leaning or leering into the past day’s transgressions, mishaps, and footfalls; he would rather spend a thousand hours unraveling her and them than take one more unholy moment discussing or diving into fractious, mercurial disasters. He didn’t question her honesty, and she didn’t circle over whether he was or not (lies were often part of ruses and schemes, machinations and calculations, one duplicitous instance to fit upon or between another). Perhaps she saw, realized, that he didn’t need to be so guarded, so rigid, so unyielding, so damned reticence and reluctant, around her – naught to hide, tangible and attainable only for her claws, her grace, her vehemence.She laughed at his antics, which only galled him onward, arching a brow at the insinuation of flour on the floor, the memories of diversion, play, and amusement a far greater thing than the towering upheavals waiting outside the door. “Was that not the game?” His chuckle was a deep reverberation, echoing off the walls of the house, as he unloaded her basket, placing the items along the counter. “We cleaned up afterwards,” he uttered in defense of their mess. It had been glorious. “It was worth the victory.” The beast raised his head as if he’d obtained a grand achievement – winner of the not-as-much-flour-on-one’s-clothes contest, stringing upheaval throughout her bakery.
When he’d unloaded the dough and vegetables, he placed the basket aside, hands searching for particular pots and pans, grabbing hold and placing them near the stove. Deimos caught the enigmatic intonation beyond the antics, matching her gaze with his own. “I think you discount your bakery’s admirable defenses.” His hands went towards the grouse, itching for something to do, cutting the pieces he’d already sliced into finer fragments, easier to cook. “Your house is…?” He didn’t let her off so easily this time: curious, intrigued, plucking at strings she'd likely preferred left alone. She’d clearly seen and now ventured into some portions of his home; it was nothing sensational, vibrant, or revealing, but it suited its purpose. It was a roof over his head, some measure of security, but lacked depth and warmth – mainly because it only housed himself, weapons, and necessities.
Unite and spread the heart apart
