Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Narrowed eyes watched, suspiciously, until he’d placed the flour back into the cabinets, safe for another melee. Giving her a wide berth, he settled himself around the counter again, purposefully not falling back into significant memories in a particular bakery, and instead forcefully pushing himself ahead, into new, distinct recollections for future thresholds. Flour coated his hands again, though he made no move to flick any of it back into the scene, and instead picked up a few of the cookie cutters – namely the banshees and ningos to start, snagging at the portions of dough Evie had already flattened.A calm system to ease his seditious, incendiary urges, taking away the restlessness and permitting him to muffle some rounds of laughter as he placed the outlined ivory birds into the mixture, and then moved them onto the waiting pan. By the time he’d gone through several others, leaving Evie the Landshark Rider one last, he’d done fairly well with not losing his attention span or goading her into some other game. But this cutter was longer than all the others, given its exemplary depiction, and so when he lifted it, the top fell completely off. “Darn. Lost your head.” Which he promptly picked up and ate with a cheeky grin, putting the rest of it upon the basin so it looked like a headless horseman display.
He raised his gaze from the task at her prompt though, because they’d treated themselves earlier to sheer stupidity, but he wasn’t going to claim they didn’t deserve additional diversions. The Sword’s eyes tapered once more when she guarded the bowl, and then flickered downward at the offered spoon.
Looking at it like there was a snare involved, he simply created his own, and then blatantly reached over the counter for the bowl, fingers tugging at the boundaries.
