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+---- Thread: you anchor me back down (/showthread.php?tid=2517)
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RE: you anchor me back down - Hotaru - 02-07-2020
They are a pair of odd ducks, displaced and forgotten from their previous lives. Remembering old ways and never fully escaping their stone foundations. Haunted by days of glory and primordial ease, trying to fit themselves into social boxes that pinch and press against their souls. Trying and trying to be the people this world asks them to be, and never really succeeding. Wearing another soul's face like a shade possessing a better subject.
Alone together there are no expectations. Nobody to disappoint or fool.
Yet even here they still hold themselves rigid, never fully able to extract the steel from their marrow that has kept them standing all this time. Bending but not breaking. Unsure if breaking is even a capability of theirs that can be heralded by anything but the snapping of their mortal strands. When Deimos speaks again she can feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, and something old and instinctual in her settles with the sensation. [say]"Nothing you are not already giving me,"[/say] she responds softly instead. Just his time, his embrace, his care. It's all she had wanted when she sought him out. Gravitating automatically to her true north, as he will always be.
RE: you anchor me back down - Deimos - 02-08-2020
At the very least, they always knew who they were: what constructed them, what shaped them, what hardships lined their skin, what trials notched into their bones. The price of second lives came with the entanglements of yesteryears, and Deimos frequently lived through them in his dreams, in his nightmares, in sparks and pieces of nostalgia that rippled in pieces and portions of the earth. Mountains that called, but not their own. Oceans that promised, but not one he understood or comprehended. Fights needing to be honed, challenges needing to be asserted, but the rest of the world echoing back in virtue and compassion. They scalded and wore their pathways down, traipsing over grounds that might never grasp just who they were or who they’d been; tainted, maligned creatures, serving their kingdom, beckoning claws to rip and tear, brandishing swords to conduct the malicious, vicious tides. And he never had any intention of bowing, of catering, of yielding those stoic intervals, those grinding, feral ways, but just assimilating, trying to be something not so lost in the damned crowd. Taking up mantle after mantle, weight after weight, and wondering if that would be enough. If that would tie something together. If anything he did held any worth.
Too much steel. Too much forging. Too many fortifications notched and narrowed down the rigids of his taut, unyielding spine, of a backbone that once carried armies and kingdoms, summits and vehemence. So he wouldn’t give in, no matter how much the earth craved it, and he wouldn’t be swallowed down into the consignments of oblivion once more – shifting his gaze to hers, shaking his head, the smallest, minute, smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. [say]“Then I will keep trying.”[/say] And they would remain strong and enduring, no matter the outcomes, no matter the costs.
It was how they’d evolved. It was how they’d grown. It was how they’d prospered.
{-FIN]