Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
At the very least, they always knew who they were: what constructed them, what shaped them, what hardships lined their skin, what trials notched into their bones. The price of second lives came with the entanglements of yesteryears, and Deimos frequently lived through them in his dreams, in his nightmares, in sparks and pieces of nostalgia that rippled in pieces and portions of the earth. Mountains that called, but not their own. Oceans that promised, but not one he understood or comprehended. Fights needing to be honed, challenges needing to be asserted, but the rest of the world echoing back in virtue and compassion. They scalded and wore their pathways down, traipsing over grounds that might never grasp just who they were or who they’d been; tainted, maligned creatures, serving their kingdom, beckoning claws to rip and tear, brandishing swords to conduct the malicious, vicious tides. And he never had any intention of bowing, of catering, of yielding those stoic intervals, those grinding, feral ways, but just assimilating, trying to be something not so lost in the damned crowd. Taking up mantle after mantle, weight after weight, and wondering if that would be enough. If that would tie something together. If anything he did held any worth.
Too much steel. Too much forging. Too many fortifications notched and narrowed down the rigids of his taut, unyielding spine, of a backbone that once carried armies and kingdoms, summits and vehemence. So he wouldn’t give in, no matter how much the earth craved it, and he wouldn’t be swallowed down into the consignments of oblivion once more – shifting his gaze to hers, shaking his head, the smallest, minute, smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. “Then I will keep trying.” And they would remain strong and enduring, no matter the outcomes, no matter the costs.
It was how they’d evolved. It was how they’d grown. It was how they’d prospered.
{-FIN]
Too much steel. Too much forging. Too many fortifications notched and narrowed down the rigids of his taut, unyielding spine, of a backbone that once carried armies and kingdoms, summits and vehemence. So he wouldn’t give in, no matter how much the earth craved it, and he wouldn’t be swallowed down into the consignments of oblivion once more – shifting his gaze to hers, shaking his head, the smallest, minute, smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. “Then I will keep trying.” And they would remain strong and enduring, no matter the outcomes, no matter the costs.
It was how they’d evolved. It was how they’d grown. It was how they’d prospered.
{-FIN]
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
