Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Pointing his empty spoon back in her direction, he nodded. “Exactly,” before scooping out another portion along the edges, trying, with great difficulty, to not go for the larger mass settling in the middle. Even if the questions were simple, the meaning behind them weren’t – little gates and pathways opening, pieces of bulwarks not so readily fortified. Rarely did anyone ask him the basic inquiries either, perhaps believing he wouldn’t answer, was incapable, or had no time for the bits of conversation that made him human. He’d readily put his life on the line for anyone he cherished, but the smaller proportions were relatively unknown – and he found himself willing to share the bare bones. Sometimes, in small doses.
Shades of blue made him hesitate, breathe a little softer. “Deep, darker ones. Like the ocean, or rain. Distant ice on a mountain.” He paused, gaze going upwards, perhaps catching on the ceiling, but mind going over memories of a different life. Only thereafter did his head tilt vaguely, absorbing her answer – smiling a little more, not expecting lamb skewers to be her favored dish. “Must have been like a delicacy,” especially with a world set apart from everywhere else.
Sliding the spoon back into his mouth for a moment, considering the question, he permitted the sugar to melt across his tongue before delivering a verdict. “Tea. Water. I am not picky with alcohol.” Just when he consumed it. His gaze eventually riveted back to hers. “Yours?”
