you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
Deimos took pride in his scars and the stories in their lines; had never bowed his head at their entities. A spear taken for a friend, snagged and rooted and embedded in his skin, rather than the comrade. A blade cut and slashed so another was not. A fight drawn his way so an ally could escape. A burst of damnation for someone who deserved it. Details upon details and blood upon blood spilled for others; no shame in the way they marked and pierced his flesh. Survival, persistence, and perseverance, upon shades of battlefields and the hollows of hostility, wars waged and the beasts who remained resolute in the countenance of violence. So he hid his laugh while she looked and measured her own defiance, eyes lowered back towards the water, easing his way back through the middle, loosening a few more breaths embedded in his chest as the heat pooled and pulsed.
Following her movements, he hadn’t thought she’d enact the mischief first – mostly because his plotting had been forthright and probably at any point – snorting as the splash landed directly in his face. He took a singular moment to look unimpressed, features returning to a residual, habitual state of apathy as the warmth drenched down his nose and slid down his beard. “Really,” followed on another deadpan, indifferent haze –
And all the while, the pulse of his incantations swarmed, humming with relative ease as they cut through the water, rising behind like a cresting, crawling wave. It could’ve cast an impressive shadow, if the healer was paying attention – and like a yawning mouth, widening, heightening, until it was purposefully brought crashing down, intent upon Evie’s frame.
Following her movements, he hadn’t thought she’d enact the mischief first – mostly because his plotting had been forthright and probably at any point – snorting as the splash landed directly in his face. He took a singular moment to look unimpressed, features returning to a residual, habitual state of apathy as the warmth drenched down his nose and slid down his beard. “Really,” followed on another deadpan, indifferent haze –
And all the while, the pulse of his incantations swarmed, humming with relative ease as they cut through the water, rising behind like a cresting, crawling wave. It could’ve cast an impressive shadow, if the healer was paying attention – and like a yawning mouth, widening, heightening, until it was purposefully brought crashing down, intent upon Evie’s frame.
DEIMOS
