Deimos
walked from revelation to revelation
came back storm-drenched
came back storm-drenched
Deimos was always content to give both to his son – so his brow arched, watching as the youth strived and tried. He could feel the potency reaching downward, churning below, and he gave a strong, stalwart nod of his head, the brightening of his own grin. “Good. Well done.” From there, he wove his own enchantments through the threads of light and dark contrast, as if untangling knot after knot, gently coercing and coursing along the brim and outwards, extending all that might so that perhaps Erebos could snag on it too, be enveloped and surrounded and pervaded by the ability, to know it, to understand it, to take value and pride in it. To not be ashamed of what he carried; hold his head high, confident and emboldened.
Zuriel followed suit, though her pathway came along from the sides, her horn dipping into the fine edges, lithe and lissome steps and strides taking her in a solid loop around the springs itself.
Zuriel followed suit, though her pathway came along from the sides, her horn dipping into the fine edges, lithe and lissome steps and strides taking her in a solid loop around the springs itself.
through shattered mountains and aching famine
stronger than all of it
stronger than all of it
