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
