DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Only pure stubbornness, obstinance, and defiance kept him upright, and even then it was a barely seditious process and prowess. His eyelids threatened to droop and there was a certain way his gaze caught over the newly grown bed of ferns and laden plants that suggested it might be enticing; even as his nose wrinkled in that boyish and juvenile tenacity. It was becoming more and more difficult to argue the notions, and though he knew she was right in the need for rest and rejuvenation, somehow he’d like to believe he didn’t require it. Not when there were so many things to do.
He'd likely be proven incorrect and wrong in a matter of moments, and the warrior sulked and gradually began to sink downwards, a slow and steady materializing of long limbs eventually settling upon the greenery. Arms crossed and gaze narrowed, a very slow sigh filtered from his chest again. “Fine.” He had no intentions of maneuvering any further until she’d done the same, and despite the towering walls nearby and the semblances of guards on every corner, the Sword still felt very exposed. Vulnerable, perhaps, given everything.
He'd likely be proven incorrect and wrong in a matter of moments, and the warrior sulked and gradually began to sink downwards, a slow and steady materializing of long limbs eventually settling upon the greenery. Arms crossed and gaze narrowed, a very slow sigh filtered from his chest again. “Fine.” He had no intentions of maneuvering any further until she’d done the same, and despite the towering walls nearby and the semblances of guards on every corner, the Sword still felt very exposed. Vulnerable, perhaps, given everything.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
