DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The lack of discourse was another portion to him kindled and incensed by walls and fortifications, learned during a brutalizing edge, in tempestuous storms, in mercurial hollows. The less said, the better, because then words couldn’t be hurled back, to maim, to hurt, to scald, to maul, to menace – a delicate balance when secrets were kept close to hearts and machinations were constantly cycling and coiling through his head. He didn’t mean for it to be a wedge. He didn’t mean for it to be deceitful. He didn’t mean for it to be anything other than a contemplative silence, a measure of control and contortion so the rest of the world couldn’t come back and taunt, haunt, him; she already knew far more about him than anyone else in the glimmer of this world or the last. What else would she want to know from ink across skin? That they’d been drunk and befuddled, ridiculous and stupid, triumphant and tender in their requests for matching skulls – signifying a brotherhood ultimately destroyed by the next year? That their commanding officer had shaken his head and called them foolish, then showed one on his arm from some other time, some other land, some other kingdom, and they’d laughed until their heads spun, innocent and idiotic? Because those were the things he left for himself, because those were the things he figured no one else cared about, because those were the things that could spin into his soul when the view became dark and cruel. Her squeak was all he required to remove himself from the melancholy edges, the leer of his smirk unseen, only for the walls, laughter buffeted at his back. Before long she seemed to adjust, knees contorted beneath his arms, and he’d be settled there again, if she let him, as her fingers picked a path along his face, airy on his nose, on his cheeks. There was a blissful ease in the silence, on his tranquil, serene breath, then she coughed, sputtered, and he released her from the makeshift prison.
You’re huge circled around his ears, and if he were a more charismatic, debauched creature he would’ve taken the opportunity for salacious response; instead he allowed her to surround him, arms lingering above his chest, spine straightening again as her lips curved on his nape, over his ear. He shuddered in her hold, ricochets and aftershocks, barely even listening to her inquiry as her tongue swept along his skin, wholly distracted and deterred from whatever they’d been doing. Shave?; the notions managed to wander their way back into his mind, circumventing again when comprehension seemed to dawn. “Yes,” he snorted; one hand reaching to brush down the length of his beard, but it’d clearly been some time. “I have been a little busy,” he rolled his eyes in her direction; turning his body halfway in her hold, as much as she would allow before mischief ignited on his features – alight in the depth of his eyes as he peered upon her. “You do not like it?” Then he purposefully, gently, aimed to grab her chin, and rub his cheek against hers; bristles and bear and all.
Unite and spread the heart apart
