DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Deimos had remained by many hospital beds in his multiple lifetimes, and had never particularly cared for it. Heart wrenching, overwhelming, and helpless to truly assist in anything other than watching in some silent vigil, it always rankled over those protective edges and fringes of his carefully built barriers.
These circumstances were different; while Zavien was a friend, he wasn’t Amalia, spine broken by falling temple columns and Deimos desperate to have her healed and mended, nor was he Huyana, too sick to move, quietly dying. Nor was the Sword powerless in this accord; Zuriel stood beside his chair, waiting for the necessity of further tending.
So he sat, quiet amidst the infirmary as the rest of the healers worked, scrawling down a list of various things, and waiting for the Dragoon to eventually wake. As his name flickered along, his eyes went to Zavien, snorting at the smile. “Zavien,” he nodded in return. “Wanted to see how you were doing. And if you wanted some healing sped along,” gesturing to the unicorn, who gave her usual imperial, haughty look.
These circumstances were different; while Zavien was a friend, he wasn’t Amalia, spine broken by falling temple columns and Deimos desperate to have her healed and mended, nor was he Huyana, too sick to move, quietly dying. Nor was the Sword powerless in this accord; Zuriel stood beside his chair, waiting for the necessity of further tending.
So he sat, quiet amidst the infirmary as the rest of the healers worked, scrawling down a list of various things, and waiting for the Dragoon to eventually wake. As his name flickered along, his eyes went to Zavien, snorting at the smile. “Zavien,” he nodded in return. “Wanted to see how you were doing. And if you wanted some healing sped along,” gesturing to the unicorn, who gave her usual imperial, haughty look.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
