Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He didn’t quite have the rebuttal for that particular statement, save for another snort. There were some portions he’d relive over and over, and others that he’d never want to be immersed within again. Eventually he summoned up something from the lamentable urges, dashing them away with an easygoing roll of his eyes, instantly boyish and chaotic once more. “Says the landshark rider.” Teasing factions leapt to other degrees and decrees, purposefully irritating and obnoxious, and given the circumstances, it seemed to settle into the ways of moment quite well. “Maybe they will write a story about you.” Thereafter, as if he were sketching, he began to outline and trace the aforementioned creature in the flour, with a miniature stick figure Evie on top, arms opened wide.The surge of laughter being replaced with a duck and a yelp left a snicker of satisfaction across his face – leaning along the counter to watch her flail around with the egg across her cheek, ear, and hair. He added that to his flour drawing as well, ignoring the way the yolk stuck fast to his forehead. He was well past the point of caring anyway, and it wasn’t as though it couldn’t be fixed with a quick shower.
Which meant he didn’t quite see the next onslaught coming until it was too late – caught and snared immediately by puffs and billows of the ivory powder over neck and chest. Like he’d stepped outside in the snow – half-tempted to shake like a dog and spray it everywhere. His eyes widened for a mere moment before narrowing into an obvious challenge, hand snagging at a fistful of the particles and grains, dropping some purposefully in the bowl, but most across his palms. Only then did he reach forward to place his hands firmly on her cheeks, and then let go, leaving white imprints and streaks and more rounds of impish rumbles.
