[PQ] [seasonal event] kindness keep a lonely company

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

There were a gathering of moments where Deimos forgot how to breathe. Amalia’s blinding, radiant smile nearly stopped him in his tracks, all movement and motion stilled and silenced, eyes widened, shocked, surprised, beguiled in a matter of seconds. He didn’t know what to make of it – the grin, sunshine and incandescence, the thank you, or the acknowledgment altogether. So he nodded his head, flickering his piercing gaze elsewhere, down on the floor, the counter, inconceivably restless. “You are welcome,” he uttered, very quiet in the dazzling light. The stretch of her fingers were ghosts on his, and he reached a little further, featherlight and controlled when the rest of his mind was frenetic – And then it was all gone on the sound of another entering. The Reaper’s gaze maneuvered along the incoming individuals, inhaling deeper breaths while he studied the others who’d been summoned by Amalia’s call to festivities. Jigano was recognizable, but not well known, and he returned the nod with one of his own, intrigued he’d be joining the baking role. Thereafter though, came more recognizable, familiar, and comforting brethren – Rexanna, earning the warmer depths of his smile and a fond tilt of his skull. “Likewise, Rexanna,” calling across the floor, where there were no gods deciding to ignore them, where they didn’t have to plot and scheme their way along boundaries and the pivotal unknown. Kiada was a welcoming surprise, and an impish glow surrounded him (suddenly mischievous, devil-may-care at the right angle), stare landing on her and Rexanna multiple times as he mused his way through a series of meticulous plots in his cranium. Auni’s headbutt was an obliging distraction, reaching down to scratch the luxere’s growing antlers. Upon raising his stare, the roguish, wicked indentation to his lips was fully reciprocated towards Kiada; they likely should’ve been separated immediately. Lily wandered in instances later, and it’s like old home week, a surprising level of comfort and tranquility descending down along his shoulders. His spine wasn’t so rigid, so taut, so ready to bolt; easing into the threshold slowly, extending a wave to her. The youth following her wasn’t someone he recognized at all, but he was enclosed and encompassed by such a series of friends and companions that it hardly mattered. At the frown of unease appearing on Amalia’s features, he was cast back into apprehension; brow arching, uncertain as to the cause. It disappeared as quickly as it’d surfaced, leaving him confused once more, but he tried to hang onto her directions as best he could, eyeing the contents they’d be utilizing. He didn’t miss the use of lavender, fighting back the snort, the chuckle, managing to adhere to his throat, watching and analyzing the demonstration; eternally meticulous and diligent. Deimos dipped below the counter to use the bucket of water to rinse off his hands, as instructed, but then became fully distracted by the bowl of flour. Hastened by amiability and affability, the devilry sparked within him, grabbing hold of a few specks of the flour between his fingers and leaning towards Kiada. Pretending to be intrigued by the spices gathered there, he took his time in writing out a message with the ivory powder: your mother, complete with an arrow indicating Rexanna’s direction. Afterwards, as if nothing was amiss, followed by an air of absolute innocence, he tended to his work, choosing honey and cinnamon for his dough. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate