legends are slippery little things. for the glory that coats them
hides the pain, suffering
This was more routine – no enchantments on the battlefield, no incantations riddled, heart and soul immersed into the warrior aspects. He’d maneuvered across many daises of war, their stages, their catacombs, their endless, unwinding sepulchers, and this was one more line of fire and munitions, one more exercise in procedures, patterns, and drills.
So he was calm and composed, a steady breath, layered inhales and exhales, on the rush of his blood; singing, imploring, enjoying and satisfied with the plunge of movement and motion, the escalation of fight, fight, fight, capable of maneuvering his blade, an extension of his arm, of himself. There wasn’t a need for summoned conflagrations, for invocations unleashed and unfurled - he was a ruthless exploit all on his own.
Natural, inherent, as fluid as breathing, he watched as she swung her blade up, hoping to catch the movement of his sword. They met on a clash of steel, but his didn’t rebound or ricochet away, too experienced, too strong, too immersed into this worlds and lands apart (but swords always sung the same), and instead, he used the opportunity to strive reaching for her again, towards her left shoulder now. Curiosity and calculations enamored the push, a series of speculations on what she’d try in the next interval.
So he was calm and composed, a steady breath, layered inhales and exhales, on the rush of his blood; singing, imploring, enjoying and satisfied with the plunge of movement and motion, the escalation of fight, fight, fight, capable of maneuvering his blade, an extension of his arm, of himself. There wasn’t a need for summoned conflagrations, for invocations unleashed and unfurled - he was a ruthless exploit all on his own.
Natural, inherent, as fluid as breathing, he watched as she swung her blade up, hoping to catch the movement of his sword. They met on a clash of steel, but his didn’t rebound or ricochet away, too experienced, too strong, too immersed into this worlds and lands apart (but swords always sung the same), and instead, he used the opportunity to strive reaching for her again, towards her left shoulder now. Curiosity and calculations enamored the push, a series of speculations on what she’d try in the next interval.
and death that spun them
DEIMOS
