you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they hold their anger inside themselves quietly
He’d take the echoes of laughter ringing against walls, shaking his head as the droplets cascaded about, a bit like a hound dripping wet, coming in one’s home to get out of the rain. But instead, all of it was immersed in heralds of mischief and nonsense, permitting his own rumble of laughter to resound once she sputtered back up from the surface. Perhaps this was the way they relaxed – not people accustomed to lounging or loafing, pressed into mayhem to appease the restless coils of energy.
The goading had been intentional, and Deimos remained unbothered by the notions of a challenge, intent on rising to the forefront thereafter. Veiled threats and pretenses did little, save for causing another rally of his amusement as it expanded through his chest; Belial opting to respond with his own hoots and hollers as he passed over.
If dunking him had been her objective, it was a lofty, lofty goal – he almost felt sorry for her as she rose up, he remained completely unmoving – broad shoulders taking the brunt of her touch with a brief undulation and roll of muscle. He tilted his skull in her direction, twisting it back and forth with a sad look on his face. “You can do better than that,” was a tease and taunt with a broad grin, before he maneuvered out from under her touch, taking a deep inhale through lungs, then diving and ducking below the bubbling surface.
The warmth engulfed him entirely at that moment, coiling and entangling around joints and tissue, and he was immediately on the move – long, broad strokes of arms and legs cutting through the water far quicker and swifter, nary a splash to signal his ambitions.
The goading had been intentional, and Deimos remained unbothered by the notions of a challenge, intent on rising to the forefront thereafter. Veiled threats and pretenses did little, save for causing another rally of his amusement as it expanded through his chest; Belial opting to respond with his own hoots and hollers as he passed over.
If dunking him had been her objective, it was a lofty, lofty goal – he almost felt sorry for her as she rose up, he remained completely unmoving – broad shoulders taking the brunt of her touch with a brief undulation and roll of muscle. He tilted his skull in her direction, twisting it back and forth with a sad look on his face. “You can do better than that,” was a tease and taunt with a broad grin, before he maneuvered out from under her touch, taking a deep inhale through lungs, then diving and ducking below the bubbling surface.
The warmth engulfed him entirely at that moment, coiling and entangling around joints and tissue, and he was immediately on the move – long, broad strokes of arms and legs cutting through the water far quicker and swifter, nary a splash to signal his ambitions.
DEIMOS
