Icarus (dd_icarus) wrote in diamonddogs, @ 2011-03-30 20:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | esras, icarus |
Who: Icarus and Esras.
What: I don't care. Something adorable. I need it.
When: shut up.
Where: home.
Why: because i fucking said so, that's why.
To say that things had calmed down since Madison's death would have been.. well, it would have been a lie. Instead of Esras holding the title of busiest bee in the house, Icarus had taken the title over with practically a vengeance. The missions he was being sent out on were increasingly dangerous with the security in Diamond territory raised like it was and his place in the Dead had become less and less about running errands or even organizing and more about heading small teams for specific reconnaissance type work. They were forever stealing files from the Candidate, or else trying to hinder security matters in the South and slow up the reaction time of the Candidate's finest. It left little time for family and less time for wedding planning, but he did all that he could to make sure that neither were lacking his presence too overly much. Since Attie's announcement of her impending marriage to Ben, Icarus had all but halted his own wedding planning. As much as he would have enjoyed swapping swatches and the like, there was more to be done for Attie, even if it was supposed to be relatively small. Truth to tell, Icarus didn't particularly want some grand spectacle made of his and Esras' nuptials (if they were even to be called that) simply for safety's sake. No one outside the two of them and Ben and Attie even knew. There simply wasn't time to celebrate. It took more energy than he had left at the end of any given day to discuss the finer points of planning anything outside of a systematic three hour destruction of all the security cameras in a two mile radius.
But even taking all that into account, he was content -- as content as one could hope to be given the circumstances, and he had someone to come home to every night which is what he was in the process of doing. Sighing and fishing in his bag for his keys, Icarus trudged to the door of the house, rubbing the back of his neck intently with his free hand. The day had been arduous at best and at worst nearly fatal. He had escaped a run-in with a newly formed sanction of Candidate-loyal civilian-spies by the skin of his teeth, but had the beginnings of a black eye and a fat lip. As he crossed the threshold into the house, he dropped his bag near the door, shut and bolted the door behind him and called out, "Anyone home?"