remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
The beast snorted, a billow of ruffian regard. With anyone else he would have retorted with some other vitriol, a juxtaposition of irritation or vexation (because he didn’t enjoy the sensation of loss; experienced it a multitude of times in his life). With Amalia, the edges of his mouth curled into a smirk, and his head shook, wild locks left unhindered. “You win.” And in many ways, she likely had. Won in growth, in fortitude, in might; no longer the being who sought to challenge, then back away – rising to the occasion instead of fluttering or lingering off in the abyss. She’d done it on her own, with those convictions and heartlines, with those strong, molded assurances, with promises laden in her boldness and fire. Maybe that was what he loved and cherished the most – the incensed flames, the stoked fibers of her merit, of her grit, of her determination.
The Shield leaned into the Sword, and he’d long since placed his blade along his belt, coiling his arms around, half-intending to lower his head on hers in some teasing manner, but let it shift and turn instead, eyes pinpointed on her. A softened sigh echoed through his chest, some utterance of laughter in there. Maybe it didn’t really matter where they went (though Halo was out by description alone, and time of events), warm and far away enough to conjure his attention. “Torchline it is.” No argument on his part, the rumble contorting along his throat. “Maybe you can finally learn to swim.” Intentionally teasing, pressing his lips against her hairline, before they could retreat back into the barracks, into planning respites and repose.
{FIN}
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
