DEIMOS
He’d known – known death and its rampage, and its destruction, and its malice, how numbing it felt to be left behind with gaping holes and the absence of something that was once constant (taken for granted). So he’d errored somehow here, by not extending some sorrows – his eyes narrowing, motions and notions piercing together. Had he not been distracted, addled, and rattled by Amalia’s circumstances, he might have given more thought to it.
But it was gone and done in now – the goose altering directions, the weight of it cast down on their sides, on their wings, on their fortune at remaining alive, but only just so. He nodded, a bob of his head as Loren took to greater parts of the skies. Likewise. Perhaps the next time they met there wouldn’t be such a void, perhaps other things would’ve filled them. But Deimos had learned too much, had experienced too much, to be such an optimist.
So he followed suit, peeling along sands and dunes, drifting downward into the comfort of seas and currents.
{-fin}
But it was gone and done in now – the goose altering directions, the weight of it cast down on their sides, on their wings, on their fortune at remaining alive, but only just so. He nodded, a bob of his head as Loren took to greater parts of the skies. Likewise. Perhaps the next time they met there wouldn’t be such a void, perhaps other things would’ve filled them. But Deimos had learned too much, had experienced too much, to be such an optimist.
So he followed suit, peeling along sands and dunes, drifting downward into the comfort of seas and currents.
{-fin}
gatekeeper of an endless war
where lines between right and wrong
don't exist anymore
