DEIMOS
So used to being spurned, the voice of the Goddess bewildered his senses, enough for eagle eyes to widen, for his mind to spin, for the unknown to come crashing down upon him all the more. Deimos was not often in any of their shadows, and the uncertainty layered against him, just as the cracks and fissures of light blinded, just as the warmth glided over feathers and plumage, just as the stars pierced within the day’s abyss. He had half a thought to hide away from it all, duck his head, unworthy chiseling its way through his foundation, a hard-fought insinuation always blending, blurring the lines of things he’d achieved and things left in the dust. But no blows rained down upon him, no extensions of his inabilities, no detachment in her smile towards them. Maybe he’d never understand. Amalia’s excitement and joy was a palpable thing, and he stilled, uncertain where to go or what to do, eternally caught in between.A long way from home indeed; except it could’ve been a reflection of worlds they’d left behind (in death, in destruction), his sharpened gaze casting over the mountains once more, yearning to expand his wings and search through every inch, every drift, every crag, every glacier. It wasn’t the same, and it would never be – but something pulsed and pulled and called to his wintry heart and his chilling soul, varnished and cooled and defied. He wanted to stand upon a summit and howl. He wanted to preside amongst the ice and chisel.
But instead he stayed.
Amalia’s inquiries stirred there, and he wondered if he should say anything at all; rendered mute, silenced, in awe and in consternation. Perhaps the goddess did know about the primordial thing below the surface. Perhaps the deity knew something else about this world too – and the temptation clawed at him, the opportunity coiling over his senses. Or anything else about this land? Of value? Of worth? Of where they should go next?
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
