[o] the storm knelt first

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

The pressures and balancing act must’ve been getting to him; he could feel that heavy, foreboding, looming abyss smothering and swallowing, encompassing the notions throughout his mind. Cold, decisive measures in the moment, and bleak fixtures thereafter, where the queries lingered far longer than they needed to. Always wondering if he could’ve been better. If he could’ve done more. But the truth of the matter pierced through that slate, clawed amidst the clouded and murky fixtures. They were already closing in on the Citadel’s armor. All that was left was the Tundra – and that too, in time, might be something they could secure. But the people had come first. They had for eternities, even behind the scarred and blackened part of his soul.

His eyes went towards the shrine, his gaze brooding, stewing, before they flickered briefly to Noah, then down to the stones beneath their feet again – tracing over foundations and steps made by passersby. I know. I just – needed a moment. Of clarity and pursuit, of figuring out if he’d done the right thing, of removing all the tension and trepidation from his veins. If I give you a picture of Dorian, can you warn those you come across? Not Friends of the Family – he couldn’t be bothered with them for the moment, but those innocent and still fighting.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same