DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Out of LongNight’s fringes and fragments, the sensation of liberation pushed at his skin, at his flesh, at his bones, made him wander, made him stalk, made him press quiet, hushed footfalls into the wake of dirt and loam. The earth was a refuge again, no longer cramped and confined, no longer burning on the boundaries, and the beast took to it with stark familiarity. Bag on his shoulder, this morning’s intentions had been to hunt, to revel in the chase, but then his eyes caught the distant drift of wings, of feathers, of plumes, like the embodiment of the things clustered, contorted, curled in his frame. Zuriel lifted her head, a graceful tilt to her cranium, noble emblems of the forest asking barbaric sons of the mountains – inaudible agreements amidst their bond, before his gaze lifted to the skies and followed the parameters of others; how they plummeted, how they descended, how they twisted and turned, a much more natural, vivid exploit than he, a man of militia and armies and crackling incantations, could ever endeavor. But he could study, he could investigate, he could try and strive to do better, be better. Which was infinitely more than where he was years before – reveling in disaster, in the temptation of ruin, and how to bring the rest of the world down with him, where they could all fester, wither, and decay.Following the skyline, the hunting, predacious wake of fellow birds, brought him to a familiar range of hedges, ferns, heights of decrepit, crumbling assignations; only narrowing briefly because of what the labyrinth represented. Lost, lost, lost, conquering the evils and wiles of other machinations, of the tempestuous orchestrations in the foreign, feral mist. Not for today’s munitions and movements, steering around the armaments and fabled fortress, and they likely would have continued, persisted, on the stalwart path of scholarly pursuits, had he not heard another recognized, accustomed decibel. Curiosity stoked, invoked, he turned around one corner, Zuriel following suit –
To find Evie, who he hadn’t seen in what felt like eons, throwing knives into a makeshift target.
An inward smirk coiled through his outline; unseen, an unattainable fixture, but secretly, furtively amused; the last time he’d offered to show her exactly how to perfect the art. A rumble in his throat, deep vocals, hastened along the ether, in case the motion and echo of his maneuvers hastened him to become a potential quarry. “Evie,” announcing, ducking his head in a firm nod, coming around to survey her technique. Zuriel flickered not far behind, otherworldly connotations swarming through her gaze. “Much improved,” his hands already fanning another dagger in his palm, fervent to join in if she wished, if she permitted.
Unite and spread the heart apart
