Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Were he the same bitter Reaper, tied and knotted in his rancorous edges far more fiercely, the words pouring through his skull would’ve been different. Seething, malicious, all-consuming and direct, maiming over the ramparts of disappointment and betrayal, striving to see beyond the parallels of Rexanna and Tembovu, of worlds washed away, of his demise soon after – of caring and loving and it hardly meaning a thing to those he’d cherished.
But he was the Sword, and the only sentiments curling through him now were marked and closed-off melancholy. Not the bruising, overwhelming kind where one drowned in its despondency, but a heartache clustered around bones and souls, struggling to find definition and roots, the art of a phrase necessary and forgiving. And while she might not have meant it, he had to wonder if Halo had been just that – a balm and nothing more – where he poured his soul and strength and when they were hardy and stalwart enough, they left. Because she still chose Sunjata, over everyone, running the moment he deigned to give her the slightest bit of attention, despite every gods damned thing he'd ever done to her - and while there weren’t great heights to scale or territories to antagonize in the aftermath, and she could glide over where and when she was required -
It still wouldn’t be the same. There’d be a hole, an emptiness, a crater. She could pretend it was naught but it wasn’t for Deimos, who’d gone through it so many times and never once thought Hotaru would be the one to carry and brandish the same knife. But it stuck fast into his ribs, intangible but weighted just the same, his worth somehow reduced to a minor role in her contrived narrative, orchestrated so that she could find little bits and pieces to hold fast. Where was Sunjata when Enzo had passed? “Are you listening to yourself?” He began, a quiet rumble that chiseled at every poignant amount of pain she was pouring into the situation. “Halo, its people, your friends and allies, is just a safety net?” His jawline tensed, and he looked away, teeth snagging at too many wounds.
Perhaps the Flood had been aptly named, since he drowned everyone close to him, smothered, choked, made them churn in his tides until he was done with them. How Nate had been above all, and she'd been second fiddle, and even now, she surged with open arms, ignoring the way those around her had sacrificed and consoled her again and again and again. “I will always support your happiness, but not the way you step on everyone to get there.”
But he was the Sword, and the only sentiments curling through him now were marked and closed-off melancholy. Not the bruising, overwhelming kind where one drowned in its despondency, but a heartache clustered around bones and souls, struggling to find definition and roots, the art of a phrase necessary and forgiving. And while she might not have meant it, he had to wonder if Halo had been just that – a balm and nothing more – where he poured his soul and strength and when they were hardy and stalwart enough, they left. Because she still chose Sunjata, over everyone, running the moment he deigned to give her the slightest bit of attention, despite every gods damned thing he'd ever done to her - and while there weren’t great heights to scale or territories to antagonize in the aftermath, and she could glide over where and when she was required -
It still wouldn’t be the same. There’d be a hole, an emptiness, a crater. She could pretend it was naught but it wasn’t for Deimos, who’d gone through it so many times and never once thought Hotaru would be the one to carry and brandish the same knife. But it stuck fast into his ribs, intangible but weighted just the same, his worth somehow reduced to a minor role in her contrived narrative, orchestrated so that she could find little bits and pieces to hold fast. Where was Sunjata when Enzo had passed? “Are you listening to yourself?” He began, a quiet rumble that chiseled at every poignant amount of pain she was pouring into the situation. “Halo, its people, your friends and allies, is just a safety net?” His jawline tensed, and he looked away, teeth snagging at too many wounds.
Perhaps the Flood had been aptly named, since he drowned everyone close to him, smothered, choked, made them churn in his tides until he was done with them. How Nate had been above all, and she'd been second fiddle, and even now, she surged with open arms, ignoring the way those around her had sacrificed and consoled her again and again and again. “I will always support your happiness, but not the way you step on everyone to get there.”
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
