all that and more

Deimos “Am I? When have I lied to you?” A snort; Deimos not known for being a voracious liar, but certainly someone who could calculate or circumvent, re-navigate a conversation he didn’t want to sink or mire himself within. He watched as her rock skipped twice, and a deeper smirk settled across his lips, grabbing hold of another rock, an arched brow clearly signifying an unsaid, silent challenge. A rise to mischief and juvenile properties, an ease of relaxation in the repose, content to occupy his time this way, instead of rooted or routed in melancholy. He twisted his arm back, then swung it forward, watching as the rock whipped out of his calloused fingers and skipped one, two, three times, before plopping into the pool. The question didn’t varnish it all away either, no matter how treacherous and terrible spring and summer had been. What had begun as somewhat content, living after LongNight, preparing for Fiat Lux, had ended spectacularly awful, with the disaster stretching into warmth, when they’d lost Adam and Peter. “Better,” he declared, dreading offering anything else – liable to jinx the notions of a stretch of peace, damned and doomed to break. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime