who we are and all that we're trying to be
Oliver’s hesitation was noted, but he braved his way along their assembled mass. Deimos remained silent as the other man spoke, only arching a curious, inquisitive brow as he sought to present the Sword with a gift. Not one to back away from a bestowal, even while it remained somewhat hidden, mysterious, and enigmatic (which made him childishly want to peek), he nodded, hands reaching forward for the proffered piece. “Of course. Thank you.” His eyes lifted, as if expecting some sort of explanation for whatever was contained, pondering if he was supposed to open it now or later.
He raised his head thereafter, eyes snapping instantly to Amalia on the outskirts; always capable of spotting her within a crowd. If he wasn’t surrounded currently, he would’ve gone immediately to her. Instead, he sent a warm pulse of affection her way, a bid of invitation and enticement. Hello, small offerings and promises, extensions of adoration in the midst of other silences.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
