DEIMOS
As he handed her the vase, he couldn’t quite ascertain the reason for her frown, if something was off; furrowing his brow slightly in response, and once the bouquet had found its sanctuary, he returned to tending to the food. Had he erred again? There were always certain twists and turns he couldn’t quite fathom, too out of his routine or normalcy, why he sometimes preferred shadows to the light, why he’d remained detached and indifferent, brooding and brewing, for such lengthy periods of time. While his ice thawed, slowly, sometimes he was left out in another field, uncertain, unsure, of wheres, whens, whys, or hows, only brandishing confusion now while he placed the cooked bacon on a plate, stirring the eggs one more time.When he brought everything else to the table, amongst the newly spread pine and holly, her smile had reappeared, so he remained composed, slightly relieved even in the midst of the perilous unknown. Ah, there it was, the notions immersed from her mouth as he started sharing breakfast, sliding plates over and filling them. “I do,” he smiled, fond and devoted; perhaps she wasn’t used to his modicum of words yet – that they always held a significant weight, that they weren’t brandished to simply fill the air or float along the ether. It was much the same in the Basin, along the throngs of Isilme after death, devastation, and loss; nothing useless, eternally precise, built for necessity.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
