Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
The sand shifted beneath his feet, and his muscles contorted in rapid form, content to manage the change and alteration in scenery. Her words prompted a chuckle and nothing more at first, always uncertain when it came to notions of things that sounded like they belonged to repose – and the precarious notions of where they all stood nowadays. Not with disappeared goddesses or weird plants, not with the hastening of warnings and the weight of other things tumbling over broad shoulders. But if not now – then when? Because there would always be something clawing its way to the surface, and time was a precious commodity no one could snag back –
Her words brought his attention back to the present, though he flicked his head upwards, gave a residual eyeroll in brotherly faction, listening to the recitation. His gaze narrowed, not at her specifically, because he could always find fault with Sunjata’s characterization and actions (it took two to decide, and neither Ru nor Nate had been included in those initial scruples, all for it to come tumbling down anyway), but at the way betrayal could bite and sway. Her own experiences with children – the pain, the trauma, the hurt – was not a ready-made invitation either, and Deimos had to wonder, if he were in her position, if she’d ever want to strive again.
He spun his way rapidly into silence though, at the words unsaid, at the lines bending and swaying, at the veracity and heart of the matter. Eventually, he found methods and modicums to say something other than the gnawing, slashing tirade yearning to ensue; he’d learned, somewhere in the midst of multiple lives, that his scorn and vendettas were not the same. “Does that mean you will be leaving?”
Her words brought his attention back to the present, though he flicked his head upwards, gave a residual eyeroll in brotherly faction, listening to the recitation. His gaze narrowed, not at her specifically, because he could always find fault with Sunjata’s characterization and actions (it took two to decide, and neither Ru nor Nate had been included in those initial scruples, all for it to come tumbling down anyway), but at the way betrayal could bite and sway. Her own experiences with children – the pain, the trauma, the hurt – was not a ready-made invitation either, and Deimos had to wonder, if he were in her position, if she’d ever want to strive again.
He spun his way rapidly into silence though, at the words unsaid, at the lines bending and swaying, at the veracity and heart of the matter. Eventually, he found methods and modicums to say something other than the gnawing, slashing tirade yearning to ensue; he’d learned, somewhere in the midst of multiple lives, that his scorn and vendettas were not the same. “Does that mean you will be leaving?”
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
