DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
He didn’t require any more invitations or temptations to become devilish, a sinking stone of impishness curling its way over his mouth, along his eyes, emboldening his features into some boyish, audacious decadence. It was boldness in the fervor, in the architecture of their antics, in the way they haunted irreverence and reveries. It was a hunt without rapacity, without vehemence, without glory or unleashed vitriol, just foolishness beneath the growing sun, failing to inspire abhorrence or wrath. The great cretin snorted and chuckled when the rime and snow hit upon Hotaru, and then she moved, lighter on her feet than he simply by design, build, and stature. He wasn’t about to let it stop him. Few things ever did.
He’d been carved out of winter’s shadow too; had grown beneath its shadows, had honed techniques for maneuvering over its threshold. Burly and brawny, athletic, and still swift, meant for wars, for battles, for crusades, campaigns and glories, while she grabbed handfuls of snow he did the same, fitting them into the crooks of his elbows and empty pockets of his arms, striving to hold as much as he could. The Sword ducked as one threatened his head, but was accosted in the shoulder and chest, great bursts of snow collecting along his furs and managing to fly into his beard. He shook his cranium like a ridiculous beast, then took off, giving chase, stalking, then firing off his own like missiles, intending to maul her with accuracy and preciseness, even while they ran. Do your worst they seemed to echo, when neither of them would; far better allies, friends, and family.
Unite and spread the heart apart
