Deimos had learned to expect the absolute worst of most news. Death. Loss. Anguish. Heartbreak. It had come and gone so many times in his myriad of lives that to hear it’s not bad didn’t relieve the tension, just made his head bow as his eyes skimmed over candles, barely seeing it at all as his mind whirled to the thousands of possibilities rampaging through his skull. Flames flickered from his incantations, equally as inherent as the rest of his contortions, jaw clenching, before steeling another breath in between his rib cage and his lungs and wondering what was to come of the next alteration in life-
And her words weren’t expected ones.
But he listened, swallowing down the worst of his fears, ones he wouldn’t name, trying to ignore that dissonant haze threatening and crawling over spine, making an overbearing, overwhelming ridge through his shoulders. Because while they could, would, likely be content with more family members, with Evie spending more time at home, with whatever she deigned appropriate, the fact remained that he suddenly felt very alone, at the top of a precipice where he didn’t ever yearn to linger.
Even if it wasn’t true. Even if it wasn’t real. Some part of that held aloft on him, tightly, around his neck like a noose.
He leaned against the large window frame, threatening to sit on its sill, gaze going down to the wooden floor and the laden rug. It would be a boon to some matters, especially Amhran, Erebos, and any other plans for children that followed (and gods, even then there was more vivid trepidation; the same cycle as their son’s but now there was the Family and-)
“I think you need to do what is best for you.” Even if he could feel the walls of pressures mounting across his back again; growing roots there, notching and gnarling and knotting. Solemn and quiet, because he’d never force her into a role that she didn’t want, he tried swallowing down the multitudes. “And I am sorry if I pushed you into something -,” he sighed, trying to compound and form words through the hordes of complexities circumventing through his mind.
And her words weren’t expected ones.
But he listened, swallowing down the worst of his fears, ones he wouldn’t name, trying to ignore that dissonant haze threatening and crawling over spine, making an overbearing, overwhelming ridge through his shoulders. Because while they could, would, likely be content with more family members, with Evie spending more time at home, with whatever she deigned appropriate, the fact remained that he suddenly felt very alone, at the top of a precipice where he didn’t ever yearn to linger.
Even if it wasn’t true. Even if it wasn’t real. Some part of that held aloft on him, tightly, around his neck like a noose.
He leaned against the large window frame, threatening to sit on its sill, gaze going down to the wooden floor and the laden rug. It would be a boon to some matters, especially Amhran, Erebos, and any other plans for children that followed (and gods, even then there was more vivid trepidation; the same cycle as their son’s but now there was the Family and-)
“I think you need to do what is best for you.” Even if he could feel the walls of pressures mounting across his back again; growing roots there, notching and gnarling and knotting. Solemn and quiet, because he’d never force her into a role that she didn’t want, he tried swallowing down the multitudes. “And I am sorry if I pushed you into something -,” he sighed, trying to compound and form words through the hordes of complexities circumventing through his mind.
deimos
Never let them drain the river of your soul
