DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
His reassurances didn’t seem to be doing much good; but Deimos had never been one of comfort and consolation. He could be a shelter and a sanctuary, but soothing words would come from others in his family. Instead, his head remained tilted as he listened, calculating the endeavors, eyes narrowing quizzically. No plan. No expectations. Seemingly out of nothing but the need to help and the lack of preparation to do so. The Warden sighed, incapable of parsing out where the blame lingered or the faults flew – apparently anywhere and everywhere. “I see.” Maybe it had been much like many other circumstances – strangers uniting on the forefront of something necessary.
Deimos didn’t need to comment on the lack of things – Zavien seemed to already hold that in spades. As Zuriel finished up healing, pressing more of the enchantments and provisions towards the Dragoon, the Sword wondered just how much to say. “Protection for Halo,” he offered, not wanting anything else potentially lurking nearby to presume much more. “And for you?”
Deimos didn’t need to comment on the lack of things – Zavien seemed to already hold that in spades. As Zuriel finished up healing, pressing more of the enchantments and provisions towards the Dragoon, the Sword wondered just how much to say. “Protection for Halo,” he offered, not wanting anything else potentially lurking nearby to presume much more. “And for you?”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
