Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
For a soul who’d made his life all about protecting and serving others, he’d never thought about having his own safe threshold. Not in people. Not in places. Too used to abandonment or loss, so much so that it seemed to still cultivate the root of his insecurities, and he extended those safeguarding measures again and again and again until sometimes it was all he stood for. He made lands shielded and sheltered, and rarely was it the other way around. So his eyes widened at the response, before a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, amongst the flour. “Thank you,” with all the sincerity he could muster.The eagerness in return earned a softer smile. “I imagine the springs are shallow enough,” and he wouldn’t let her drown anyway. The least favorites presented other layers and lacquer he could’ve expected, especially in regards to the Spire, which rarely seemed to inspire any love or devotion, except for maybe in some Ascended. It stood as a collective symbol of barriers and beliefs, but he wisely made no mention of it – including his own near death experiences in its once poisonous void. “Not all of the Climb is too bad. We found a cave full of jewels before.” However, Deimos understood what she meant – though his blood contained fire and ichor and infernal wakes; and so he found himself not minding most of the magma-laden land. “But it is a strange place just the same.”
He could’ve agreed with the monolithic tower, or his old home where hearts were split and torn, but with a wrinkle to his nose, he set his spoon down within the bowl, satisfied with the amount of dough eaten. “Hak Etme. I do not care for the desert. Or that many landsharks.” Even with her preference for riding them.
His eyes lifted, following her movements, as she snagged at the cookies. With enough room left in his stomach to taste test these, he smiled, snagging at the offered piece. The following question made him laugh, mostly because Talyson had asked him the same recently. “Terrorizing friends, running, swimming, flying. Games.” Usually associated with some mischief. Taking a bite of the ningo, giving off a contented sigh, he asked her the same. “What about you?”
