Deimos
suns for bones and constellations for eyes
Deimos could be tolerant and patient, and had been so in many circumstances. But battlegrounds, enemies, adversaries, and learning to extend boundaries had taught him that he didn’t have to humor the derision and scorn. Crusades were far more understandable and nuances than the tricky, bizarrely intricate ways of friendships, because people were that way; and the Sword had begun to figure out the fault-lines didn’t always start with him. Perhaps his and Talyson’s flaws had careened on a course of fatal aspects, and that was all that could be done; but finally allowing himself to be happy and content with another shouldn’t have been what caused the unraveling. So now he took it with a roll off the shoulder and reticence, eyes on Evie as she had to tiptoe around the misaligned angles too, snorting at the laughter.No forgetting; the experience stuck and affixed to their minds, regardless of how the world tilted from here and now.
Their steps echoed, and he was half-tempted to rush onward to restore some manner of mischief, to tug and pull and reel around another corner until she caught up, but the conversation veered into other venues of curiosity. So instead he continued on in taking the comfortable aspects of ease and familiarity, form less and less rigid as they maneuvered away, and down the street to other comrades and citizens.
Curiosity would always catch him outright anyway. A brow arched significantly at her snicker, at her words, the vague tilt of his head following. “And she was fine to work with?” The second consideration would come on the heels of the Academy rumblings – namely Sah, and his efforts. “How was Sah’s instruction?”
