unburned and alive

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame He watched, concentration honed, as if this were a different, alternate kind of battlefield, as Ray made the incision upon the spherical proportions of the bud. He arched a brow as it began to drip, and then they didn’t gather those portions – not yet. At her instructions, his eyes went to the beaded adornments again, and picked up a poppy to try on his own. The knife suited just fine, sharp and precise, picking out the rounded edges and carving neatly, until the process was repeated on his end too, placing it down, glancing at it in perusal and study. His features turned into an inscrutable wrinkle to his nose at her statement – as if he’d go and incite that amount of curiosity into something he never wanted to be subjected to. “I will not,” came in a vivid snort, before returning to the others, and slicing them as neatly as before. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace