DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The Sword’s expression remained carefully composed and neutral, muted, impassive, with only the slightest incline of his brow as she fumbled the knife; masking the laughter beginning to quell and brew. The bemusement might have been found in his eyes, but they were also guarded in riveting to the target and its already impaled notes, rather than the pout or mercurial, tempestuous edges to her words. He shrugged them away, except there might’ve been a promise in the movement, capable of unfurling some robotic means if worse came to worse. The challenge spurned and hastened within the depths though, looming enough for him to sink his teeth into, eternally bound to being goaded, instigated, by the mere thoughts of audacity, emboldened, prodded into distinction and clarity. The knife in his palm felt familiar, staccato rhythms and echoes of yesteryears born into his blood, into his soul, unbroken, unchanged, hallowed bits of hell and precise exploits – when it’d been more than play and practice, when it’d been an assault, a siege, a last minute, moment, effort to ensure survival as it slid into another’s skin, flesh, and bone. The beast breathed into its siren clamor, war torrents beckoning against his ear drums, and for an instant he was quite still, a stoic statue, waiting for the final ax to fall, to grind upon his soul until he was gone and dead again –
Another breath and the significance fell away, a clench to his jaw the only indication of anything else. “I can try,” coiled away along the surface, scratched over enamel and lacquer, a smile lingering at the corner of his mouth. His eyes lingered on her latest deploy, witnessing, watching, as it snagged and sang through the air, thwacking into the target. Not dead center, but hitting the mark alone was passable – he nodded, encouraging her further, so he could study and scrutinize anything else.
Then he took upon the mantle, bracing, grounding his weight into the earth, rotating his arm backwards, not fully, not necessary for what he yearned to achieve, before throwing it forward, releasing the blade into the surface of the target.
Unite and spread the heart apart
