Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Ordinarily, he wouldn’t be the sort for memorials. The chains and memories of those he’d lost simply remained, embedded, deep in the canals of too many lives and too many faults, fissures, and outliers. Monuments and monoliths to the dead weren’t exactly in his range of grieving: anguish had been spared in digging graves, and then maneuvering on, breaking down elsewhere. But Fiat Lux, a celebration he’d cherished for selfish reasons, had been corrupted and damaged; and perhaps some portion of him wanted to give back, again, for those who were lost in the perils.
He threaded his way through the streets, in need of diversions and distractions, applying to the notices, following paths and lanes to where Bastien and some others already waited. Art wasn’t really his forte’ either, but willing to try. He raised his head in inclination of his assistance towards the guildmaster, a deep, reverberating intonation following, “Bastien,” and then corresponding nods to the others too. “What do you need?”
He threaded his way through the streets, in need of diversions and distractions, applying to the notices, following paths and lanes to where Bastien and some others already waited. Art wasn’t really his forte’ either, but willing to try. He raised his head in inclination of his assistance towards the guildmaster, a deep, reverberating intonation following, “Bastien,” and then corresponding nods to the others too. “What do you need?”
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
