DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Between the ferocious battles, murderous blackberries, and public services, he was content, angled into serenity and tranquility, the beatific aspects of repose. It eclipsed over any other untoward notions or unholy factions, drifting along the wine haze and the bliss of the hour, sneaking rapture and reverie into his chest again and again, and he savored it, favored it, clung desperately to its halcyon turns. He leaned into her touch, a damned cat, Cheshire and emboldened, would’ve purred given more alcohol or time.Even as they settled back, they didn’t let go; an emblem, a stature, no lines drawn but the pinnacle of together; teasing as her leg maneuvered into his calf – he narrowed his eyes, informing her he knew exactly what she was doing, pressing back with ease. At the inquiry, he drew himself a little straighter, back against the chair, hands holding the glass as he swallowed more of the crimson concoction, pondering over what he had done that day. “Made some swords,” and his gaze slipped from hers for a moment, to stare upon the newest ones in the corner, some hilts not quite complete, uncertain what he wanted to place into their pommels. “Hunted,” indicating the grouse they’d consumed. “Thought about sneaking into the bakery to snatch some cookies,” with a wry grin suggesting that he’d been thwarted somehow; but on a later day he’d just as easily try again. “Irritated Kiada,” and then he hummed, crooned under his breath, endlessly amused by the notion. “And practiced some assaults on the targets out back.” Only thereafter did he realize that sounded endlessly boring; his daily rituals, his habits and routines, so he slipped in mischief when he could. “Saved an entire family vicious vampire gourds. I will have to guard them from blackberries next, I am sure.”
The challenge was back on though, the moment the fork slipped from her mouth, delicious, too full for anything else, moving to stand to leave - and he knew it was a dare, a provocation, serpentining directly into it with nothing held back. A chase. He maneuvered swiftly for a man of his stature and size, intertwining his arms along her middle, intending to pull her back into his lap. “Not so fast,” he whispered, a delicate trace of molten air toying from his mouth, along the shell of her ear. His chin, ticklish beard and all, maneuvered to rest on her shoulder, lips moving slowly, deliberately, at exposed skin, sketching, tracing her nape. “What is in the basket?”
Unite and spread the heart apart
