Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
The Sword would never be one to deny Ru’s contentment – her life had been rankled with edges of wire and thorns, sometimes tightened and corded together with whatever salvation she could find. He knew and understood it well, as his had been on a similar journey, but his parallels of forgiveness were minimal at best. Where she’d found root causes and ways to pardon, excuse, and exonerate, he simply couldn’t. He didn’t forget, and he rarely forgave.
But her peace had been elsewhere, tucked amidst the King’s End with a fool who didn’t deserve her, and in some way, he was going to have to come to terms with it.
For now though, he could appreciate the turns of their strides amidst the desert sand, the beckoning glow of enigmas in the distance, the night sky ensuring they weren’t melting into the heat. Comfortable and familiar, primordial habits from days long since gone and still entirely present, he listened – muffling something deeper when she poised some sentiment. “You have always been resilient,” at the very least – given the tragedies, the condemnations, the scores of maimed webs lying in her wake. The blood spilt, pooled, and hastened contorted to the back of his mind, and his piercing gaze narrowed, following a path lit by eerie presses along the horizon.
And he was happy; that he wouldn’t deny. In between all the chaotic semblances, goddesses disappearing, wars ending and Halo enduring, there was Evie and the serenity they were claiming, preserving, and saving for themselves. Love and devotion carved its wake carefully into his sentiments, and he was eternally grateful to have the chance again. “I am.” With a generous smile and half of an indulgent nod. “Well. I think we have most of it sorted. Middle of Flowerbirth. Small ceremony in the greenhouse.” Pausing, he shifted his shoulders. “We can have a bigger reception for everyone else.”
But her peace had been elsewhere, tucked amidst the King’s End with a fool who didn’t deserve her, and in some way, he was going to have to come to terms with it.
For now though, he could appreciate the turns of their strides amidst the desert sand, the beckoning glow of enigmas in the distance, the night sky ensuring they weren’t melting into the heat. Comfortable and familiar, primordial habits from days long since gone and still entirely present, he listened – muffling something deeper when she poised some sentiment. “You have always been resilient,” at the very least – given the tragedies, the condemnations, the scores of maimed webs lying in her wake. The blood spilt, pooled, and hastened contorted to the back of his mind, and his piercing gaze narrowed, following a path lit by eerie presses along the horizon.
And he was happy; that he wouldn’t deny. In between all the chaotic semblances, goddesses disappearing, wars ending and Halo enduring, there was Evie and the serenity they were claiming, preserving, and saving for themselves. Love and devotion carved its wake carefully into his sentiments, and he was eternally grateful to have the chance again. “I am.” With a generous smile and half of an indulgent nod. “Well. I think we have most of it sorted. Middle of Flowerbirth. Small ceremony in the greenhouse.” Pausing, he shifted his shoulders. “We can have a bigger reception for everyone else.”
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
