DEIMOS
A visceral snort followed through, immersed in the tactics of their games, instilled from the beginning, after libraries and bakeries, after stone golems and shades of darkness. Giving into the ridiculousness was habitual, a comfort, a safety net, a sanctum, when there were so few elsewhere. Haunting measures would eventually be before them, but not here, not now, not beneath rushes of the sun and above rolling presses of the sea. Ignoring the quip that he was apparently the only one who wanted a reception, the eagle soared, an unrelenting piece of the backdrop. Did you have a good time? They’d both held apprehension of the same measures in those respects – not entirely at ease with attention placed on them – but they’d also been amongst friends and family.So then he dove down, a continual expanse of adaptation and assimilation. Too many homes lost and gone, too many lives left behind, too many hours spent eroding or demolishing, until finally peeling away roots and striving to settle them elsewhere. Perhaps it was best now that he instilled them within people and not places, coming back to those he cherished.
With no notion of her admiring his presence, the Sword merely snickered at the taunts and the provocations, but it didn’t last. She upped the ante by suddenly dropping down upon him, not heavy, not overwhelming, but a surprise nonetheless; out of instinct he descended sharply, talons nearly touching the waves, before resounding once more into strength and fortitude. Not as distinctly graceful, wings extended in a rush to ensure he remained aloft, poised in the foundation, fortitude, of might in the follies. His rumble of laughter matched and beckoned, entangling with hers as they coasted above the surface of deep, piercing blue, purposefully disregarding her threat. You know I would carry you anywhere. She could cling, grasp, and hold, and he’d forge onward, off into the light, off into the darkness, wherever she yearned to go.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
