Neither he nor Eshal had come back from Nevarra, and while there was speculation drifting through the Gallows, nobody really knew if they were dead or alive.
But it's clear enough that Deimos survived when his massive self casts a shadow over the docks.
From some ways off, Athessa spots him and before she can think to be cool or dial back her delight at seeing him, she's running at him. Jumps when she's but a few feet away, and throws her arms over his shoulders to curl behind his head.
And there she hangs, kissing him and smiling against his mouth.
Has anyone in his entire life ever been this happy to see him?
The fact that he barely even processes that as a question probably says the most, and rather tenses up immediately when there is a ball of clothes and limbs and that ridiculous curling hair flying at him.
But he catches up, as she lands, enough not to flip her over his shoulder in simple reaction. Merciful that it came from the front, gave him time to react. His arms wrapping around her waist so she didn't choke him, he'd insist. Holding her weight as she kisses him, and he - does not quite kiss back. Just makes a noise that might be pleased, back against her lips.
"Well I'm glad you're glad," she chuckles, in part because what she said was just...so dumb. It's important to be able to laugh at yourself. The other part of why she chuckles is more along the lines of covering the tiniest sliver of disappointment that he didn't quite kiss her back.
But she can agonize over that later. For now, she gives him one more quick smooch and smiles cutely at him.
Why would he do that? She had thrown herself at him. She didn't get to be put down until he was ready. So his arm drops, scooping underneath her, and picking her the rest of the way up against his chest. Encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist as he walks on.
Let it never be said that Athessa needed convincing, prompting, or encouragement to wrap her legs around Deimos' waist, and she of course obliges because where else would she put them? Besides over his shoulders, but that can wait until they're behind closed doors.
She kisses the tip of his nose, just because, and tilts her head to one side. "Where were you?" And, anticipating his laconic answer of Nevarra, she adds: "Besides Nevarra."
He adjusts her weight briefly, tugging her up his chest as they wind through the courtyard, back towards his room. He won't be able to stay long, no doubt had to report down to where he pissed where he had been to satisfy their commanders. At least the lack of trust was mutual.
They surely have different definitions for noteworthy, right? He probably wouldn't want to hear about how she stupidly snatched a cigarette box from Leander's hand and threw it into the sea...
"Naaaah. Been pretty boring 'round here, actually."
She doesn't have much leeway to adjust on her own, with him holding her as he is, but she can at least crook her elbow over his shoulder and sort-of prop up her head as she looks at his frankly too-handsome face. With a frown so slight as to barely draw a crease between her brows, she grazes her finger along a scar on his chin.
He stretches his head briefly, letting her look at it a moment. "The dead have long nails." He mutters along with it. Letting her touch and work against it. "Caught across the top of my shield."
A common mistake, when he didn't have the unbroken shield line he was used to.
She laughs at the idea of mummies trimming their nails, briefly. "Gross."
But by the time she comments on the thought, she's more focused on that scar and where it is and how easily kissed it would be. So she gives it a quick little smooch.
He tilts his head to let her, as they walk up the stairs to his quarters. Kicking the door open, because it wasn't like he ever locked it. He neither had anything worth stealing aside from his weapons, and new that people would be watching everything he did and searching his belongings anyway.
"I don't have any new scars to show," she says, drawing over the scar again with her index finger, then tapping his bottom lip lightly. Without thinking about it, she adopts the same pout his mouth is always set in, just for a moment, then smiles.
"I think I might have an old one, though. A little faded by now, I think."
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But it's clear enough that Deimos survived when his massive self casts a shadow over the docks.
From some ways off, Athessa spots him and before she can think to be cool or dial back her delight at seeing him, she's running at him. Jumps when she's but a few feet away, and throws her arms over his shoulders to curl behind his head.
And there she hangs, kissing him and smiling against his mouth.
"Glad you're not dead."
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The fact that he barely even processes that as a question probably says the most, and rather tenses up immediately when there is a ball of clothes and limbs and that ridiculous curling hair flying at him.
But he catches up, as she lands, enough not to flip her over his shoulder in simple reaction. Merciful that it came from the front, gave him time to react. His arms wrapping around her waist so she didn't choke him, he'd insist. Holding her weight as she kisses him, and he - does not quite kiss back. Just makes a noise that might be pleased, back against her lips.
"Glad I'm not either."
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But she can agonize over that later. For now, she gives him one more quick smooch and smiles cutely at him.
"You can put me down now."
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Why would he do that? She had thrown herself at him. She didn't get to be put down until he was ready. So his arm drops, scooping underneath her, and picking her the rest of the way up against his chest. Encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist as he walks on.
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She kisses the tip of his nose, just because, and tilts her head to one side. "Where were you?" And, anticipating his laconic answer of Nevarra, she adds: "Besides Nevarra."
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Then, because he knows she thinks he's avoided his usual sort of answer. So then: "Fighting."
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But her scowl is spoiled by the grin that always plasters itself on her face around him.
"Fighting what, then? Bears? Dracolisks? Dragons? The urge to eat an entire bakery's worth of bread? I have to fight that urge often myself."
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"Mummies. But not mothers. Which apparently are different." Trade be has decided, is a stupid language.
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"Nearly a month."
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He adjusts her weight briefly, tugging her up his chest as they wind through the courtyard, back towards his room. He won't be able to stay long, no doubt had to report down to where he pissed where he had been to satisfy their commanders. At least the lack of trust was mutual.
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"Naaaah. Been pretty boring 'round here, actually."
She doesn't have much leeway to adjust on her own, with him holding her as he is, but she can at least crook her elbow over his shoulder and sort-of prop up her head as she looks at his frankly too-handsome face. With a frown so slight as to barely draw a crease between her brows, she grazes her finger along a scar on his chin.
"This one new?"
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A common mistake, when he didn't have the unbroken shield line he was used to.
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But by the time she comments on the thought, she's more focused on that scar and where it is and how easily kissed it would be. So she gives it a quick little smooch.
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"I think I might have an old one, though. A little faded by now, I think."