runaway

KIADA you love each other, you do, and here's the tragedy; it's not enough. He was a shield and he was a sword, Kiada had been molded to be the same. The events that had lead to each of them becoming the same had been different, but the end result made them equals. And she watches him, warily for a moment as he nods and gives her the faintest of a grin, a raised brow, as he speaks of training and scheming, and she nods with him in agreement. She doesn’t really know what to say back, yet, and so she keeps her voice quiet, the tears that had brimmed along her eyes slowly reabsorbing as she looks toward the future. “And we work together.” He says and she nods, her eyes never leaving the strong and sharp panes of his face. “Together.” She responds, reiterating the point. She does her best to offer him a half smile, her mind internally scrambling and uncertain of what to do or where to go now. But she inhales deeply again, sighing quietly through her nose as she picks them apart to work on them one by one. And she does them in the order that he has told her. Train. And so she begins to focus on that, to hone her edges, to make her a stronger and better fighter and person from it. If anyone knew how Kiada was when it came to fighting, it was Deimos. He would know that she’d get her hands dirty and bloody without a second thought. It seemed now she only needed to begin the process of bruised and bloody hands. you are allowed; to watch the sun swallow him whole and burn him up, to stain your fingers to the bone holding him together. to count the constellations in his eyes as they blink out. but you are not allowed to save him...