your soul is a wall of thorns

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

More howls, more growls, more barks, faint and triumphant; perhaps something they could be, in time. With enough resources, mindsets, and inclinations pooled and pulled together. The Sword remained immersed in Noah’s anger, but flinched only slightly at the second statement – incapable of letting that remain furtive and secret. I am no longer General. He permitted some of the pain in that statement to linger, the way it coldly wound along his ribs, a sting, a retribution, of his hard work dissolved within an instant of impulsive decisions. Morgan took me off the council, after I admitted to burning one of Torchline’s guildhouses. His eyes stared out, into the darkness, into the threshold of ice and rime, not really wanting to see the hunter’s expression – lynx or otherwise. Sunjata had hurt Ru, and I wanted him to pay. So I tried to take out his spy and crime ring. An absolute mess; but the bare minimum was there.

He sighed, the stare ever present, the brows furrowing again as the brooding persisted. He has an extension of it here, in the Kraai, but no one seems to care. Save for maybe him and Hotaru; which Deimos found utterly ridiculous. The Sword’s head hung a little lower then, the shoulders concaving back, gaze looking down the stone fixtures of the Citadel wall. But I promised to protect Halo, and I will continue to do so. With or without a title – it scarcely mattered. He’d lost the recognition and worth, but not the resolve, not the drive, not the magic, weapons, or shifts.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same