look upon a ruin

Deimos He knew the ripples and rivulets of the Stonesong; not like the Fae, who might’ve memorized it like a book, traced over its patterns and whirls, its currents and stark contrasts with sharpened rocks and nettled knives, the cold, chilling expanse, the rush of strength and oblivion stretching over soil. But he’d submerged himself once, with Ronin, playing fool’s games and applying their own power into the manifestations, daring, provoking, seething and simmering on the never-ending, eternal rush of water and where it might have led – laboring muscles until there were dull aches and inflated egos, testing limits, fortitude and might in the swing of arms swimming upstream. The temptation might have been there today, had it been any other nuance, any other season, any other notation – but the world had been punctured again, and he had too many other things to do, too many other duties to partake. So he drew away from the enticing shoreline, the call of some ancient, primordial, sea-laden foam echoing past his lungs, glimmers of tides and shoals like ghosts in his veins and in his eyes – gaze laden upon Zuriel nearby, as she inspected leaves, nettles, and thorns. She shook her head, snorted, at once irritated he’d distracted himself from the task at hand, and he pressed into the wake of the forest again, too many elements scratching, clawing, and gnawing at his skin, at his surface, at his soul. Bag over his shoulder, the other leaves he’d snagged resting within, he continued on his search, bending down to inspect a particular leaflet and its withering fronds. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime