after fury
what do you do
The Reaper wouldn’t have listened. The Reaper wouldn’t have cared. The Reaper would have set himself along a path of isolation, so long, so brambled, so nettled and contorted with thorns that no one would have bothered to join him. They would’ve turned their downcast eyes towards his statuesque depravity, and only received a silent, dismal, apathy in return – a weapon, outfitted with blood and bones, but no comfort, no benevolence, contorted or coiled in between. A quiet aloofness, a harsh reality, a feral reticence, purposefully intimidating, so the rest of the world would leave the King alone, permit him to tend to his duties of protecting, of destroying, of collecting his armor, his munitions, and fortifying the anchors of his kingdom. But the Sword had been accepted and tolerated in his grief, in his shambles, in the twist and turn of brewing, brooding melancholy, and shifted towards their grace and poise without even realizing it. Before long, he’d settled right into their mirth, into their adornments, with ease (bewildering, stupefying, and surprising). How he had been the one lending comfort, as pathetic, unknown, and juvenile as it felt over his skin, was all the more mystifying and bemusing; but he conducted and committed to it anyway; with the same motions and convictions as he might’ve swung his sword. Distinct and warm, a fortress, a tower, a monolith, he contorted his arms around her as if that was all he’d ever meant to do or be – not bending, not breaking, not shuddering, but a piece of immovable factions she could rest her head upon.
He didn’t clench his jaw when she said nothing more. When he received naught. Perhaps he didn’t deserve the information, forced to turn a blind eye to it while others received notions wholeheartedly (and maybe that was where the puncture and fissure truly ached, next to his ribs, ignorant and ineffective, unaware and purposefully cast into the void). So he didn’t ask again, thought he’d been given his answer in the soft whispers, attempting to offer what little he could for the expanding abyss. “Okay,” he crooned and murmured, accepting that he still wasn’t enough.
with the remains?
DEIMOS
