DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
There had been days where he’d longed for the same – for a home that wasn’t and couldn’t be again. For mountains where his bones had been laid to rest. For oceans only lined by the luminary press of the moon. For family gone. So he could feel that inkling of empathy, that reach for something that couldn’t ever happen. His brows furrowed, jaw clenching, fingers restlessly tapping against the stone fixtures of the well. “I do understand. But there was never going to be a way back.” Tugged and pulled by the Voice for whatever machinations and plans she’d had in store – only to backfire, when the rest of the world didn’t fall in line with her schemes.
He paused, inhaled, took in a rapid breath that slowed, then stilled, in the breadth of his chest. “So we make the most of what we have been given. Make a home here.” As he’d done for the past few years, painstakingly carving every niche for himself, and for the ones he cherished. Experienced love and loss and then all of it again, remembering what it meant to live instead of merely exist. “That does not mean you forget where you came from. I have been told many times that it does no good to waste away, pining for those you cherished. They only live on if you do.” In memories, in dreams. His head tilted, looking briefly into the darkness of the surface before him, before pinpointing his gaze back to Darkeye. “Then, you adapt.” And perhaps the cleric had begun to do so, attempting to erase the marks of the past and the bludgeoning blips of relic hunts gone awry. “You are trying, which is more than what many attempt.”
He paused, inhaled, took in a rapid breath that slowed, then stilled, in the breadth of his chest. “So we make the most of what we have been given. Make a home here.” As he’d done for the past few years, painstakingly carving every niche for himself, and for the ones he cherished. Experienced love and loss and then all of it again, remembering what it meant to live instead of merely exist. “That does not mean you forget where you came from. I have been told many times that it does no good to waste away, pining for those you cherished. They only live on if you do.” In memories, in dreams. His head tilted, looking briefly into the darkness of the surface before him, before pinpointing his gaze back to Darkeye. “Then, you adapt.” And perhaps the cleric had begun to do so, attempting to erase the marks of the past and the bludgeoning blips of relic hunts gone awry. “You are trying, which is more than what many attempt.”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
