that bashes and breaks you

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

The Sword hadn’t meant to cross opposing lines and stand amongst both: life and death; Artisan’s and soldier’s, but it’d been the way the world had manifested and unraveled, had contorted and rippled. Still fully immersed in displays, in aspirations, in ambitions of devastation and defenses, and in the other lines, creation, concocting things, objects, artifacts, into fruition. It was a talent he hadn’t held within Helovia or Isilme, granted and given only in Caido’s midst, a way to return the consideration, acceptance, and tolerance of his damned existence by the inhabitants here. Perhaps someday it would suffice for all the wreckage he instilled too. The reflection ceased there though, as his magical quietly, subversively, tarnished new life, brandishing its demolishing state on a hushed, nearly tranquil upheaval. There were no screams, no shouts, no parallels of people falling apart, to pieces, at his feet, just the leaves beginning to curl, to turn, to flicker and wither and die; the brown tinging green, the life starting to vanish. There were some days where he’d turned to watch and witness his adversaries crumbling, decaying, listening for their last breaths, their last heartbeats, standing before them with his eyes on the slaughter, on the wake of cruelty, satisfied and content when they could push their bodies and bones off the mountain side. This didn’t hold the same fulfillment. “It should be.” In truth, he only knew as much as the goddess had granted, and so his magic diminished, its careful orchestrations no longer necessary, as he grabbed another jar from his pack, plucking the leaf cautiously, a vigilant, meticulous soul, and placing it within the container. As he tightened the jar, enclosed it within the sack, his piercing eyes wandered back to Jigano’s. “Thank you.” For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate