DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Night came and he was unmoved; every inch a part of the stone slab, the rock fortress, until even it decided it no longer wanted him there. The beast had watched the horizon, the skyline of light flickering down into nothing, until it varnished a deep, deep blue, and sauntered into evening’s press in its revolving pattern. Then it was Stygian and inky, and his Attuned eyes adjusted accordingly, feline measures, staring out into the void, and watching for anything. For signs. For ningos. For animals traversing, making their way across the open plains, wandering back into their lairs and homes for the evening. For something threatening, to launch and lunge at, to remember exactly what he was before he messed it all up.
He didn’t expect Noah’s rumbling voice, and had only caught the movement, the noises, momentarily. Too affixed on the world ahead and not the one beneath him, and he eased a breath, wondering when these platitudes would fall too. Diminished and destroyed by his own stupidity, the monolith could only answer with plain, nonchalant features, and a rumbling overture that said too much in one feral statement. “Brooding.” And nothing more for the moment, not ready to hear expected, presumed disappointment, or the sinking of another friendship. “You?”
He didn’t expect Noah’s rumbling voice, and had only caught the movement, the noises, momentarily. Too affixed on the world ahead and not the one beneath him, and he eased a breath, wondering when these platitudes would fall too. Diminished and destroyed by his own stupidity, the monolith could only answer with plain, nonchalant features, and a rumbling overture that said too much in one feral statement. “Brooding.” And nothing more for the moment, not ready to hear expected, presumed disappointment, or the sinking of another friendship. “You?”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
