DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
If he weren’t strong and enduring, he might have dropped the tank on her proclamation. Instead, it seemed to be a whirlwind of surprises and mercurial intervals, a strange, bewildering sigh pressing through his lungs. The portal was open. They were free to go. They could see the mountains. They could touch the snow. They could spy and gaze and touch the world they’d only seen through pages in a book, through fog and mist and the incorporeal, the intangible. Something in his figure contorted, coiled, and breathed, smoked, an infernal incantation, a series of convictions brewing and rumbling in his chest, dominating and superior, the kind of grace and formidable nature the peaks and valleys had sculpted and carved into him, that had remained through life after life. He didn’t even wonder why Wessex had told some and not others. He didn’t even care.Because it was there. Ready. And so were they.
He maneuvered with the tank, bumping his shoulder into hers to indicate his space, should she wish to grab hold of the crook of his elbow, or let her hand continue to linger on the brawn, while he strived to find something to say. “We will go explore,” the General said, without quaking words, when every sensation of his existence hummed and brooded, the anticipation searing well beyond any other apprehension (Zariah, what had happened at the portal, what else could linger on the other side) – she would know. She would feel it. It was undoubtedly the same for her; she’d only have to wait a little longer, restored and renewed by the goddess that instigated it all. The beast swallowed down any other rampaging ramparts threatening to brim over his senses. “Thank you for telling me.” His head inclined, quieter and still. “Soon,” he agreed, the slightest curl of a smile residing on his mouth, restless, predacious, a longing, yearning eclipse suddenly bombarding his soul. She could join them soon.
