the stars lined our heartbeats

Deimos

we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in

He might face the crowd but truly didn’t see anyone else but her – they were a blur of faces and a sea of figures, spinning and whirling, backgrounds, backdrops, scenery otherwise beneath his notice. For all the careful planning and orchestrating they’d done days before, it didn’t matter to him in the slightest now, adrift and keen on only her ministrations, her touches, her existence. The Sword took the ruse and reveled in it, arching a brow at the nature of their follies, the tricks and reveries of their trades, bemused, striving and struggling to maintain the nonchalant focus on his features (not one of his usual dilemmas). A portion of him yearned to disregard some of her notations (kind? – the Reaper would’ve shuddered and hid) on mere principle, and perhaps she’d thought of that too, left it out into the void so he couldn’t comment on it. Instead, he snorted, only a very casual side-eye in her direction at the notions of generosity in every way and the blush rising along her cheeks – an inward smugness he made sure not to exhibit in the open. “Where on earth would you find such a person?” As if it were a rarity – except perhaps not at all – this world vast and wide in its beneficence, how he’d come to be accepted and invited into their circles, into their throngs, into their masses in the first place. Very few had ever dared anywhere else. An even rarer conviction was adoration for his wicked, unrelenting soul.

Adamant refusal of his few virtues had always been par for the course and routine; another cheeky smirk curling along his mouth; no use hiding in the midst of their banter. “I do not.” Then he leaned a little closer, bending slightly, so his piercing eyes met hers, a flame in his ardency and ruffian insurrection, hands still raised, still clasped together. “Would you settle for me?”

keep the ones who
h e a r d y o u
when you never said a word