you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
“Yes,” resounded with another distinctive rumble as he waded, the water immersed along his calves until he continued and persisted, permitting a restless sigh to uncoil from his lungs at the first rush of warmth. "We drank some of it to keep the sickness away. Would last for about a day." The springs beckoned and lulled though, and he only turned back as the liquid reached his waist, catching her eye for a moment with a boyish glint. Moments later long locks were hastened back into a makeshift bun, before he tilted his head. A quick scan of her own figure, for which he’d give zero explanation, commenced and then ceased when the piercing gaze landed back upon hers, snorting at the bubble comment.
Deimos had never fully studied the depths of the Breath before now, but swift perusals and studies from earlier had garnered a light fixture of fathoms, pointing along an outcropping of rocks. “Should be fairly shallow there,” imagining that many leaned and sat amongst those proportions much like a throne, permitting the healing properties to simmer, brew, and sink into muscle, sinew, flesh, and bone. It was already slinking against his battle-hardened proportions, lush and content, sinuous and tranquil. “I can go further and see if it drops.”
Always a strong swimmer, for no child raised along the ocean would be anything but, he wandered farther and farther out with powerful, swinging strides, parsing through until it wrapped and corded along his chest, and seemed to cease. A gradual descending angle, then the ground under his feet plateaued before he could touch the opposing wall. His shoulders shrugged, unbothered, before he pronounced the newfound sagacity over the surface. “Starts sloping there,” jutting his jaw out towards the center.
Deimos had never fully studied the depths of the Breath before now, but swift perusals and studies from earlier had garnered a light fixture of fathoms, pointing along an outcropping of rocks. “Should be fairly shallow there,” imagining that many leaned and sat amongst those proportions much like a throne, permitting the healing properties to simmer, brew, and sink into muscle, sinew, flesh, and bone. It was already slinking against his battle-hardened proportions, lush and content, sinuous and tranquil. “I can go further and see if it drops.”
Always a strong swimmer, for no child raised along the ocean would be anything but, he wandered farther and farther out with powerful, swinging strides, parsing through until it wrapped and corded along his chest, and seemed to cease. A gradual descending angle, then the ground under his feet plateaued before he could touch the opposing wall. His shoulders shrugged, unbothered, before he pronounced the newfound sagacity over the surface. “Starts sloping there,” jutting his jaw out towards the center.
DEIMOS
