DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Curiosity and inquisitions aside, Deimos, perhaps wisely, said naught at all. His experience with weddings hadn’t been shackles, tethers, chains, and lines; Helovia’s political machinations had been more hellbent towards trades, ruses, schemes, and alliances until they fell apart, Isilme’s hastened along the same lines. Their worlds had collided in streamlines of war and invasions, in hatred and vitriol, in torn apart commitments and unleashed ferocities. Here though, the world blurred, until even the former Reaper found someone. Sunjata’s seemingly endless options had segmented and landed upon the midwife? There were unsaid things entangled and embedded there – and if his eyes narrowed or arched suspiciously, he gave nothing else away at his notions, at his ruminations. If anything, the enigma and mystery served to distract him from the other horrors carving him apart.Perfect on a flat affect, as if it either didn’t matter or he didn’t care. Strange. Bizarre. A series of circumstances and events he couldn’t navigate, couldn’t fathom.
But Sunjata’s request was next, and so he busied himself in the burrowing of concoctions and enchantments again – kindling, invoking, and stoking almost a juxtaposition of previous incantations. Rivulets adorned and conformed, blackened, nearly Stygian band unfurling from the midst of gilded billows; sketched waves and undulations rampaging along the side, subtle navy hues blending firmly into the sable, onyx circlet. Eventually they all led to the blue stone (like an ocean; Deimos could recall those conversations at the very least), so the ring managed to convey a tempest, a storm. The box did the same, brutality and barbarity on its edges and fringes, holding back the clamor, the power, the siege. They were all passed to the other man again, eyes glancing to see if these too met approval.
Unite and spread the heart apart
