Deimos
Whatever here that's left of me
Is yours just as it was
Deimos would always make up for his lack of words with actions; and he trusted she knew this, no matter how concise or true. He glanced down at her voice, at her words, absorbing them for all the strength, might, and patience behind them, lighter blessings of a thousand suns and flames. Watching as the ring slid across his finger too, as symbolic gestures persisted, peaks and mountains and auroras pressed against their skin until it was just them and them and them. Another laugh lifted from his chest, warm and bright, bending into her at more vows and radiance, or the level of impatience always felled from her. “I vow to you, Evie Wordsworth, that I shall be your husband, now and forevermore.” Is yours just as it was
Deimos couldn’t help the snort at the following command, but took the demand wholeheartedly, settling his hands and fingers over hers once more, waiting for her to raise the rest of her features to him in blinding touches and gentle motions. Wholly pervaded by love and devotion, the surroundings might not have mattered at all in those segments and snippets, not between their regards and joy. Eyes closed, he needed only the reaches of her existence, lips pressed into hers, heartfelt, ardent, fervent, and committed, a devout reel of emotion staunch and steadfast in his ribcage, in the canvas of his soul.
I'm set alight
And I blink inside your blinding light
And I blink inside your blinding light
