DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Absurd and ridiculous tendencies seemingly blended into their relationship, easygoing patterns in between misadventures – though which to say was more illogical or foolish would take time. His smirks and snickers had remained, but hers heightened, dolphin devilry along chatters and enthrallment, taking theatrics to a grandiose display. He was half-tempted to fold his arms across his chest and let her carry on with the charades in her dramatic wake; opting for watching, waiting, with a reticent look pressing over his features, as if he were now only put-upon, a long, withering sigh following.
What he didn’t convey, except perhaps through attuned vestiges, ethers, and silence, was the relief in his shoulders, spine, and bones. That after everything they’d encountered, experienced, conquered, or suffered, there was still this; amusements and comforts, silly, inane benedictions, pulses and pieces of play. Happiness, instead of all the other traumas. Something to savor, something to relish, something to have and hold.
Deimos snorted, finally relinquishing another grumble of laughter, as she flailed around. Eventually he managed to speak, shaking his head is mock-dismay. “So you led me here under false pretenses.” A click of his tongue followed, a pretense of disappointment, before shrugging altogether, as if he had no hope of assisting any further.
Then, as if instigating, agitating, stoking more and more, he inhaled one massive breath, and dove down underneath the waves.
What he didn’t convey, except perhaps through attuned vestiges, ethers, and silence, was the relief in his shoulders, spine, and bones. That after everything they’d encountered, experienced, conquered, or suffered, there was still this; amusements and comforts, silly, inane benedictions, pulses and pieces of play. Happiness, instead of all the other traumas. Something to savor, something to relish, something to have and hold.
Deimos snorted, finally relinquishing another grumble of laughter, as she flailed around. Eventually he managed to speak, shaking his head is mock-dismay. “So you led me here under false pretenses.” A click of his tongue followed, a pretense of disappointment, before shrugging altogether, as if he had no hope of assisting any further.
Then, as if instigating, agitating, stoking more and more, he inhaled one massive breath, and dove down underneath the waves.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
