Damien
you are the storm before the calm
and the ache after the silence
and the ache after the silence
Damien didn’t press the thought further when Deimos said it—most bonds are worth it. There wasn’t much to argue with in that, and nothing in him wanted to. Instead he let the silence hang, turning it over while Aria wriggled herself into place.
The cub had found her throne. Balanced high on Deimos’ shoulders, tail coiled for counterweight, she peered down at the peryton with all the solemnity of a queen addressing her subject. A soft chirrup rolled out of her throat, bright and insistent, as though she had something important to tell him. Whatever it was, she didn’t look about to budge.
Damien’s mouth curved, faint and fleeting, before he dropped his gaze to the nearest wall. Down here, the snow had blown hard against the foundation and melted just enough to seep into the seams. His bare fingers traced a jagged line where the mortar had crumbled away, ice crystals clinging like white moss. He knocked at it with his knuckles and heard the dull hollowness beneath. That was where the next thaw would work its way inside.
“I’ll start clearing these out,” he said at last, tugging a small chisel and hammer from his backpack. He wedged the edge into the seam and knocked loose the rotten mortar, shards of ice and grit scattering onto the packed snow at his boots. “Get the weak bits out first. Then I’ll pack them tight again.” His eyes flicked briefly upward to the roofline where Deimos was already intent. “We’ll meet in the middle.”
The steady rhythm of the hammer kept him grounded, stone yielding by degrees beneath his hand. While Aria purred and chirped, Damien worked with quiet efficiency, every strike shaving away what the winter had worn thin.
The cub had found her throne. Balanced high on Deimos’ shoulders, tail coiled for counterweight, she peered down at the peryton with all the solemnity of a queen addressing her subject. A soft chirrup rolled out of her throat, bright and insistent, as though she had something important to tell him. Whatever it was, she didn’t look about to budge.
Damien’s mouth curved, faint and fleeting, before he dropped his gaze to the nearest wall. Down here, the snow had blown hard against the foundation and melted just enough to seep into the seams. His bare fingers traced a jagged line where the mortar had crumbled away, ice crystals clinging like white moss. He knocked at it with his knuckles and heard the dull hollowness beneath. That was where the next thaw would work its way inside.
“I’ll start clearing these out,” he said at last, tugging a small chisel and hammer from his backpack. He wedged the edge into the seam and knocked loose the rotten mortar, shards of ice and grit scattering onto the packed snow at his boots. “Get the weak bits out first. Then I’ll pack them tight again.” His eyes flicked briefly upward to the roofline where Deimos was already intent. “We’ll meet in the middle.”
The steady rhythm of the hammer kept him grounded, stone yielding by degrees beneath his hand. While Aria purred and chirped, Damien worked with quiet efficiency, every strike shaving away what the winter had worn thin.
