Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Deimos once thought redemption a feasible thing; to replace all his iniquities, all his sins, all his past crimes with actions to assist in a world rather than destroy it. He hadn’t encountered war after war, battle after battle, crusade after crusade. He hadn’t pierced or punctured any adversaries. He hadn’t conjured manipulative tactics in order to rend another land into bedlam, into havoc, into chaos. But for all his efforts, it seemingly hadn’t mattered – trial after trial, tribulation after tribulation, had sunk down into his marrow and clawed it apart. What good had any of it done? What changed? What altered them for the better? Or had he been so arrogant, so confident, so unassuming, to believe anything he’d accomplished benefitted the world? Useless, ineffective, the echoes of the past carrying over to the present, every connotation of failure bridging the gaps between worlds and lives. Naught had revised – more intricate details sketched and outlined to cement his worthless existence, the meticulous turmoils. More to scrape and scrap together, more immoralities he hadn’t meant to commit.
Rock, stone, and mountain he might’ve been, but even those things eroded. Time scratched and slashed against its mighty fortresses and ramparts, clung rapacious, fervent barrages upon bulwarks, and he was ready to fall.
Her words echoed and bounded, and she was trying, trying to make him see more than the darkness coming to consume, but it was difficult to view when the Stygian abyss haunted every corner of the earth, of the parlors, of the sanctum. The temptation to argue her points bristled across his tongue, and then he muted them, too tired to fight the onslaught any longer. “I will try to fix this.” All he could murmur, all he could croon, all he could do, and maybe he’d learned nothing, clutched and held together in Hotaru’s embrace, wanting to right wrongs, wanting to meander down pathways of vengeance and justice again and again. “I cannot bring her back, but we might be able to free her soul.” It was all he had to hang onto, besides the individuals that wouldn’t leave him.
And even then – perhaps his days were numbered. Broken vessels and entities eventually expected nothing but loss.
He could feel her desperation, the fear, the trepidation of yesteryears instigated by one tragedy after the other – proffered what little strength, might, and fortitude he had left, what hadn’t been lost when he found Rexanna on the other side of that damned door. How many times had they wandered through these same fires, these same circumstances? And it never became any easier. A whisper carved, and then he was silent again, immersed in those shadowed emblems, the uncertainty all the more apparent. “I do not know what else to do.” Did she? How did one move forward (because he never really had)?
Rock, stone, and mountain he might’ve been, but even those things eroded. Time scratched and slashed against its mighty fortresses and ramparts, clung rapacious, fervent barrages upon bulwarks, and he was ready to fall.
Her words echoed and bounded, and she was trying, trying to make him see more than the darkness coming to consume, but it was difficult to view when the Stygian abyss haunted every corner of the earth, of the parlors, of the sanctum. The temptation to argue her points bristled across his tongue, and then he muted them, too tired to fight the onslaught any longer. “I will try to fix this.” All he could murmur, all he could croon, all he could do, and maybe he’d learned nothing, clutched and held together in Hotaru’s embrace, wanting to right wrongs, wanting to meander down pathways of vengeance and justice again and again. “I cannot bring her back, but we might be able to free her soul.” It was all he had to hang onto, besides the individuals that wouldn’t leave him.
And even then – perhaps his days were numbered. Broken vessels and entities eventually expected nothing but loss.
He could feel her desperation, the fear, the trepidation of yesteryears instigated by one tragedy after the other – proffered what little strength, might, and fortitude he had left, what hadn’t been lost when he found Rexanna on the other side of that damned door. How many times had they wandered through these same fires, these same circumstances? And it never became any easier. A whisper carved, and then he was silent again, immersed in those shadowed emblems, the uncertainty all the more apparent. “I do not know what else to do.” Did she? How did one move forward (because he never really had)?
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
