DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
While the General had legitimately meant turning the thing on and seeing if it even functioned, his brow arched at the notions of cookies. He’d had a sweet tooth and inclinations towards baked goods since he was very young, including snatching them from windowsills when his mother had put them out to cool – and he’d spent several hours looking around her shoulder as Stone tended to family meals. Making his own had come with time and practice, a fair amount of mistakes, and the layers of mischief. And there was a pang, deep in his chest, residual and still, where he could remember doing the same with Amalia. Those days were gone.
This one was now – and not without its potential for blunders either. Deimos didn’t answer the first inquiry, because he wasn’t certain if they had enough for the second. “That depends on if you have the ingredients.” He began a list, one finger rising after another, anticipating, waiting, for Sah to start responding or keeping track. “Flour. Baking powder. Baking soda. Butter. Eggs. Sugar.” He paused, considering, tilting his head a little. “Vanilla.”
This one was now – and not without its potential for blunders either. Deimos didn’t answer the first inquiry, because he wasn’t certain if they had enough for the second. “That depends on if you have the ingredients.” He began a list, one finger rising after another, anticipating, waiting, for Sah to start responding or keeping track. “Flour. Baking powder. Baking soda. Butter. Eggs. Sugar.” He paused, considering, tilting his head a little. “Vanilla.”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
