[Training] when they grew their fangs

Deimos

before bones, before dirt, before even light
this is who we were

Between meetings, poems, and the marketplace, the yesteryears blurred and blended. It was difficult to believe that some years ago, a collective unit of them had stood amidst the Fae woods and all their menace, but it sat within the Sword’s memories like another page turned; a wrinkle to his nose on an otherwise nonchalant canvas.

But then he maneuvered further down the lane and the pit, the fixtures, the whispers of tulmhainar and sacrifices were just other figments – the village now seemed to be almost a tourist attraction. Outlines of others, clearly not of Fae endorsements, moved about, glancing around here and there – some perhaps a little too obvious on their overt tours – but perhaps he was simply grateful all of them were trying. Eventually something would be found, and they could make a move. Presently, his eyes scanned the random crowds for one individual.

this untamable expanse
churning proof that we have always been deep, restless souls