it's the fire it ignites

DEIMOS

Another loud snort rumbled through his chest. Deimos did often wonder how successful Ru had become in her business enterprise; he’d known how long it took to drag him into the facility. But then again, he’d also returned – so maybe the same could be said for the multitudes of tired, resolute Halovians, who’d suffered enough under so many acts.

At his tactics and tricks though, he shrugged his shoulders, the Cheshire grin dutifully in place. Eventually meandering towards the tangible bench as well, leaning further against the stone pillars and rims, he extended an arm, ensuring she was firmly tucked up along his side, mud and all. “I suppose,” he breathed and sighed, permitting a rise in the temperature around them, the warmth pooling, curling, and contorting once more, content to wrap around. Leaning over and placing his lips against her hairline, and loosening a breath to purposefully watch a few crimson strands stick up amidst their mired brethren, the Sword was content for a few moments of silence.

Then he eyed several mudballs that had slowly fallen down the wall, staring at them in the flickering candlelight; much like an individual might observe clouds and their ever-changing shapes. “Bet I can make that one look like Sunjata,” jutting his head towards the extended work of impending…art.

You aren't afraid of throwing yourself

in the path of danger

but you're terrified of letting anyone in

Evie

I see what lies heavy on your heart

He folds her closer beneath his arm, and Evie turns her head a little to press a smacking kiss on the top of his shoulder, smearing the mud that still clings to the both of them in both areas. The sigh of bliss that escapes her as he increases the temperature then caresses the same spot, and she tilts her head to rest upon his shoulder as she sinks deeper into the mud. Despite having worked with soil her entire life, she never could have anticipated a mud bath feeling this fantastic. Admittedly, it's a great last go at relaxation before the war dawns upon them, and she closes her eyes for a brief moment as he kisses her hairline, grateful for this little escape they've made - antics and all.

Opening her eyes at the rumble of his voice, it takes a moment for Evie to determine what he's referencing, but once she catches on her grin is alight like a match. "Long distance painting, huh? Show me what you got." At least if he fails, making it some grotesque creation, it won't be too far off from the source material.

and the strength you still keep inside

DEIMOS

Never one for stillness, he honed his concentration on amusements and petty devices. Relaxing pulled and pooled along the junctures of his spine, upon the conjectures and contortions of his entity, permitting these moments of repose, but allowing others to steel and forge in the process. “You may try,” he rumbled with a juvenile grin again, perhaps to generate some goading and competition again, pondering what malicious little picture she’d correspond into an enemy or opponent; for she was the true artist between them.

Not letting go of her, he simply meandered into earthen incantations and wares from their vantage point in the pit – eyes narrowing, focusing on the movement of lines and the appropriate delineation of maneuvering muck. Eventually he conjured an elongated and exaggerated brow, pronounced into neanderthal proportions, and then jutting out further for the Flood’s nose.

And from there, they could persist in the range of mischief and foolishness, until the eventual dimming hour. Deimos carefully ensured everything was cleaned up - perhaps too much so - with a bottle of wine left as a gift for Ru on a side table for when she returned.

{FIN}

You aren't afraid of throwing yourself

in the path of danger

but you're terrified of letting anyone in