DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
The Sword was a calculating man – had to be, given his line of work in the multitudes of lives, seasons, alterations, and crusades. Which meant his considerations, when given a choice to completely devote every segment of his soul to a goddess, had aligned distinctly into what it all meant for him in the end. “I value my autonomy.” First and foremost; because his loyalty had been boundless, but his body, his mind, his heart, his blood, his ichor, was his and his alone – and he’d never had any intentions of giving himself entirely over to anyone (save for those he loved and cherished; and even then, would never expect them to make such demands). “Independence. Control. Presiding over my own decisions.” His head tilted again, trying to gauge Hadama, and where the Mer meandered and wandered into the depths. “I remain devoted to her, but she has never forced me into a decision I may regret.”
And if he’d talked to Ronin, or even Sunjata, maybe the Tidebreaker already understood the insinuations between those layers.
Instead, Deimos had explored libraries and built shrines. He’d helped take down governments and apply them into Old God nuances. He’d gone to war. He’d listened to her warnings and spread them far and wide. There was no rue or remorse embedded there.
Leaning back into his chair again, another breath unfurled, pondering over what the other man could possibly place merit and weights within – where the convictions toiled and ended. “And I do not desire power.” Had it on his own in spades – didn’t require the cosmic balance circumventing through his veins. Nor did he need to be the most important or most commanding; he’d earned any and all reputation based on his actions. From there though, his eyes went back to the man, speculative and thorough. “I think you need to consider why you would want to become a demigod, and any repercussions that may come with that.” And were they for the right reasons? “Would you lose your Mer status, for instance?”
And if he’d talked to Ronin, or even Sunjata, maybe the Tidebreaker already understood the insinuations between those layers.
Instead, Deimos had explored libraries and built shrines. He’d helped take down governments and apply them into Old God nuances. He’d gone to war. He’d listened to her warnings and spread them far and wide. There was no rue or remorse embedded there.
Leaning back into his chair again, another breath unfurled, pondering over what the other man could possibly place merit and weights within – where the convictions toiled and ended. “And I do not desire power.” Had it on his own in spades – didn’t require the cosmic balance circumventing through his veins. Nor did he need to be the most important or most commanding; he’d earned any and all reputation based on his actions. From there though, his eyes went back to the man, speculative and thorough. “I think you need to consider why you would want to become a demigod, and any repercussions that may come with that.” And were they for the right reasons? “Would you lose your Mer status, for instance?”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
