Deimos
There was a retort laden behind his teeth, buried somewhere in the crosswires and crossfires of his cranium, but he shook it instead, grabbing hold of the long metal tine and shoving a marshmallow upon its top. Half-inclined to shove hers out of the way by mere mischief alone, he instead strove to simply remain content in their idle space – comfort, ease, no walls, no fortifications, no titles, no triumphs; just lingering in the peace and solidarity. Once she’d perfected hers, he placed his near the flames, rotating it gradually, accordingly, with a practiced grace to the munitions, permitting the control of the fire to contort it to a vivid golden brown.
And then inclining it towards his mouth, rather than committing to s’mores just yet.
But at her suggestion, he visibly grimaced, nose wrinkling, reeling back further into his chair, feet propped up on the edges of another unlit brazier. “No.” Visibly unimpressed with the notion, he ate the marshmallow, satisfied without the bizarre combination of sweet and…pickle abominations. “That is disgusting.” Then he laughed, teasing and taunting. “Your poor taste is showing again.”
And then inclining it towards his mouth, rather than committing to s’mores just yet.
But at her suggestion, he visibly grimaced, nose wrinkling, reeling back further into his chair, feet propped up on the edges of another unlit brazier. “No.” Visibly unimpressed with the notion, he ate the marshmallow, satisfied without the bizarre combination of sweet and…pickle abominations. “That is disgusting.” Then he laughed, teasing and taunting. “Your poor taste is showing again.”
i rule the stars, not the other way around
