I'm getting tired of starting again

Deimos Where he saw potential and normalcy in the roots of metal, in the jagged, serrated edges of munitions, others might have seen disasters, destruction, and ruin. He’d been too harnessed and harpooned into their oblivion at a young age to judge them as anything else, pieces and extensions of guarding arms and fury. The notions sequestered as his eyes scanned things he’d created, and deigned to unfold, unfurl, further: what could balance from a man’s arm and maul another, what could ensure protection, what could manifest devastation? What was necessary in the upcoming days? In the upcoming years? Because once, twice, and then the rest flowed together into patterns, spiraled thereafter; circles and echoes of warfare and mayhem, of abhorrence and annihilation, the clenching of teeth and expelling of lungs. Some reaches in his mind wondered if he was bound to be resented for bringing it all into the fold here – where there hadn’t been such strife and misery. Or if it was only a matter of time after Zariah had lanced and laced her claws, her clutches, into the world. The Sword was here to teach, to honor, to protect, to guard – he didn’t know if the same could be said for the Merciless and her ilk. Patient, he watched and waited as Maea inspected a variety of munitions, seemingly focusing on one of the polearms, light, but capable of forbearing. Then placing it down after touching, after testing, and he said nothing. Maybe the sight did her in. Maybe the notions sunk a little too far. When she turned to him though, pondering over baselines and those that had come before, there wasn’t a simplistic answer. “It depends on the individual. Some come from similar worlds like mine.” They’d already seen, they’d already ruined, they’d already thrust their way through frontlines and descended into their consignments. They’d already experienced hell and didn’t mind returning. “Some already have the basics or preferred weapons.” He paused, piercing gaze not quite settling on any specific blade or bow, mind whirling over where she’d be best suited, if she didn’t want to pick up any particular notion now. Thereafter, the depths of his eyes returned to her. “If you want to wield something efficiently, you will need endurance and strength.” Only Maea would know how much she could handle, and he’d allow her to be the judge of how far too push, when enough was enough. He had a pull-up bar outside, and hadn’t started on creating weights yet (something in the near future perhaps, when he required more distractions), or she could always run, rampage her way along the outskirts of the training grounds. “Where would you like to begin?” Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime