DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
He stalled, lingered, from leaving the fringes of the meeting, kept there by the exhaustion in Rexanna’s stature, by the unknown, by the enigmas, by the surrounding, pervading entities of apprehension beginning their coiling predilections in the center of his ribs. The latter hinged on the frequency in which he presumed the worst – an unfortunate side-effect of all the lives he’d led – and when the final council member left, he arched a brow directly at the Penumbra. The weight of a hundred possibilities mired and rooted itself over his shoulders, elongated his spine so he was ever the rigid counterpart, some days of old impossible to erase. The mischief embedded along her features left some of the misgivings and doubt behind though, and he eased a sigh from his lungs, pervading into the artist’s sanctum, reaching for a scone himself, before settling back into his chair. It could’ve been like old times, though there clearly was nothing left to plot and devise, to scheme and undermine, their conclusions and plans from before already immersed into his mind – action to begin and instill once the first press of Deepfrost began its chilling chase. “Big news,” he snorted, the arch to his brow remaining. The last time she’d had any big news she’d Ascended, and along the middle lines of those moments had been chasing down monsters during LongNight, becoming impaled, and a host of other conflagrations. “What are you up to now?”
Unite and spread the heart apart
