DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Deimos rumbled a short laugh as the snowflake soldiers rushed in some final push – and witnessed them be singularly crushed by the watery opposition. Shaking his head as they fell to pieces and disintegrated, he took the half-hearted measure of patience with a roll of his shoulders, knowing and understanding he wouldn’t have listened to the same lecture at his son’s age – but figuring one day it would sink in. The Sword’s level of patience had come from other lifelines and measures; certainly not from boyhood inclinations.
The inquiry gave him the slightest bit of pause. Knowing how Evie had kept her incantations and enchantments furtive, secretive, and under wraps for many years within the closed-off, barrier-laden positions of the Hollowed Grounds, and amidst her strict parents, the possibility could’ve gone both ways. But it would’ve been very difficult to keep hidden for so long. Rather than answer the question for her though, and because their son should’ve held no shame for being who he was, he relented with a vague smile. “You could ask her. Especially when you are showing off what you can do.”
The inquiry gave him the slightest bit of pause. Knowing how Evie had kept her incantations and enchantments furtive, secretive, and under wraps for many years within the closed-off, barrier-laden positions of the Hollowed Grounds, and amidst her strict parents, the possibility could’ve gone both ways. But it would’ve been very difficult to keep hidden for so long. Rather than answer the question for her though, and because their son should’ve held no shame for being who he was, he relented with a vague smile. “You could ask her. Especially when you are showing off what you can do.”
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
