DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
He laughed on her defiance even in the face of impending consequences, the no volleying through the fields, on the air, streamlined into their measures of chaos. It wasn’t the Reaper, but the sword in all his glory, lost stoic requiems and resurgence of boyhood mischief clambering over the powder and rime, illustrious to strictly juvenile charms. His roar was even more pressed into the ether at Hotaru’s image, once beatific, sneaky, duplicitous Queen, felled and tossed into a snowbank. He was doubled-over, the chuckles in full hysterics, clinging over ribs and abdomen, by the time she’d stomped out of her wild woman glory, taking her hit along his shoulders without much of a care; hearing it slam into furs and jostle along his hair, joining the rest of the snowy assaults and brigade. On the riot of her glee and amusement, he proffered one last siege, striving to regain his prowess and purpose, shuffling and shoveling more of the sticky powder into his arms as he stomped back over. It was more or less a pathetic venture, a release once more, intending to allow the rest of the substance descend upon her at its leisure, graceful, lacking the arches, dominion, and destruction. Not for her. Not for those he’d always consider family.
“Good game,” he smiled and chortled again in return, satisfied and content with the proceedings, with the amount of elements they once conquered and held stuck, lacquered, and enameled upon them, the etched and fringes of winter sovereigns all over again.
Unite and spread the heart apart
