DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Perhaps the only underlying consternation was that his decision ultimately made her occupation all the more difficult. Being allowed his boundaries and morals was another notion altogether, and one he couldn’t quite fathom presently, adjusting to directions, indications, and brief, but sudden movements. He had no place in a healer’s realm – nothing about him mended. Much of his life’s work had been about tearing, ripping, bludgeoning, and maiming, and something within gnarled and gnashed at his veins.
But he remained, stalwart too.
Paralytics and organs failing contorted the impassive, nonchalant framework of a mask back over his features – stoic as ever, when faced with the way life came to an end. So he nodded, watching in some bitter, residual silence as she concocted and crushed, maintaining her wisdom and sagacity for hundreds of thousands of moments comprised, composed, like these.
The warning made his brows furrow once more, and the statement thereafter was chased by an abrupt snort followed. “I will take you home.” Where she could rest and relax in her own quarters and sanctum, away from the precipices this instance surmised. As for Zuriel, his piercing stare landed on her, and she shook her head, alleviating any doubt or worry – the mare had always been self-preserving. Opening his palm out to her, the absolution was clear and concise. “I will stay.” Supportive and defiant, stubborn and stern, but there just the same.
Then more rapid notions and actions took claim, and he could only watch, breathe deeper, as the memories of other similar scenes blended into this one, fighting down fragments, blistering edges of wanting to take away pain and torment. The conversation was quiet, and not for him, so he kept his eyes riveted on infirmary beds and white linens, the juxtaposition of too many things simultaneously.
At the signal, Zuriel lifted her head, the glow of her horn diminishing. The rest was up to Evie, and he could only stand beside her crumpling form, as incantations flowed, as healing adjusted into something else.
But he remained, stalwart too.
Paralytics and organs failing contorted the impassive, nonchalant framework of a mask back over his features – stoic as ever, when faced with the way life came to an end. So he nodded, watching in some bitter, residual silence as she concocted and crushed, maintaining her wisdom and sagacity for hundreds of thousands of moments comprised, composed, like these.
The warning made his brows furrow once more, and the statement thereafter was chased by an abrupt snort followed. “I will take you home.” Where she could rest and relax in her own quarters and sanctum, away from the precipices this instance surmised. As for Zuriel, his piercing stare landed on her, and she shook her head, alleviating any doubt or worry – the mare had always been self-preserving. Opening his palm out to her, the absolution was clear and concise. “I will stay.” Supportive and defiant, stubborn and stern, but there just the same.
Then more rapid notions and actions took claim, and he could only watch, breathe deeper, as the memories of other similar scenes blended into this one, fighting down fragments, blistering edges of wanting to take away pain and torment. The conversation was quiet, and not for him, so he kept his eyes riveted on infirmary beds and white linens, the juxtaposition of too many things simultaneously.
At the signal, Zuriel lifted her head, the glow of her horn diminishing. The rest was up to Evie, and he could only stand beside her crumpling form, as incantations flowed, as healing adjusted into something else.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
