DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Light and hums, enough for his attention to wander briefly from the Shield, and to the hands of Safrin – eyes flickering to her as she spoke, rings and signs, segments and tokens. What thing best signified his love, his warmth, his devotion to her? He smiled, and somehow knew almost instantly –
Because how often had he laughed, before her? How often had he grinned, bore mischief, reveled in something other than sedition and turbulence, irreverence and contempt? How often had he tried to instigate something else besides anxiety and apprehension, depressions and deluges? How often had he goaded or provoked, simply so that she was at ease? How often had he dropped the mask, the pretenses, the walls, the fortifications?
A nod towards the goddess, before he reached in towards the light, pulling out a bottle containing laughter – the rumble of his chest, the amusements careening through his form.
Because how often had he laughed, before her? How often had he grinned, bore mischief, reveled in something other than sedition and turbulence, irreverence and contempt? How often had he tried to instigate something else besides anxiety and apprehension, depressions and deluges? How often had he goaded or provoked, simply so that she was at ease? How often had he dropped the mask, the pretenses, the walls, the fortifications?
A nod towards the goddess, before he reached in towards the light, pulling out a bottle containing laughter – the rumble of his chest, the amusements careening through his form.
I belong to you
the way the moon belongs to the stars
the way the moon belongs to the stars
