who we are and all that we're trying to be
If Weaver’s bestowal had been a shock, then Adam turning towards him with a heart-shaped brooch, gems and shells adorned, had been some other sensation of bewilderment. Instead of fainting (he couldn’t remember if he ever had), he blinked once or twice, thinking it was some weird mirage or hallucination, but each time the brooch was still there in Adam’s hand, extended towards him with a wink. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if there might be a trick or scheme aligned to it, and if he took it in his hands, he’d be immersed into some mischievous, devilish inclination. It was clearly meant for someone attached to Adam – like Peter – and instead of accepting it, he arched a brow. “While I am thankful, why not save it for Peter?” Or, if this had to count for something, Deimos could always hold, safekeep it, for Adam until he found the other man.
Then Kiada appeared, saving him for the time being, a box within his hands an instant later. There was some bizarre aspect of being spoiled, of being tolerated and accepted again that made his chest tighten, so instead of reveling and sinking into those sensations, he smirked, snickering at her predicament, and then dug into his bag, her gift tucked under his arm for a moment, for her own bestowal. He didn’t wrap or hide it from view, the helmet in plain sight, made to match the armor he’d contorted and created for her earlier: antlers flaring out the back, embers singing along the sides, bronzed, lines down the middle for any decorative piece she wanted to convey. All of it poised and positioned together without him saying a word, waiting for her reaction before he opened his present.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
