DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Contemplation continued over sandwiches, and the monolith moved forward, half a tease, half curiosity, head tilted to listen to her answer as he advanced along the embankment, piercing gaze notched over palm trees and dunes, the rise of shoal and surf on either side. He paused as she answered, a ruffian smile tucked along the edges of his mouth, glancing over his shoulder, barely containing, barely stifling, a chuckle embedded in his throat. “A dancer,” deep vocals repeating her refrain, like one of their secrets, except it hadn’t been at all, given the nature of their first maneuvers. The Sword didn’t loosen anything else from his accord, not yet, pondering the nature around them, the ways in which Amalia thought to keep herself hidden, away, out of the limelight.
I would still know you he wanted to goad and taunt, but left it there, hidden beneath all their other ramparts and fortifications.
The question returned to him, and by then he’d already tossed off his shoes, placing them near the boat, finishing the portions of his food, sinking toes into the warm sands, meandering, waiting for her to either follow or amble pretenses into further mischief. But the thoughts immersed into some venture of seriousness, because the man had held one occupation for so long, that another seemed strange to conspire and ponder. All he’d ever been was a soldier, or a King, and even the latter came with brutality, vengeance, and cutting, lacerating blades. To be anything else felt odd and strange, and the exercise left him muddled, perplexed, until he shrugged, forthcoming on thoughts and phrasing. “An explorer.” Stoked by curiosity, by discoveries, by enigmas, constantly emboldened by the unknown. "Someone who could blend between worlds and kingdoms." Capable of adapting, of being immersed in the ocean, and then rampaging along summits, infused with elements, twisting and turning until they knew them all.
His stare went back to her, away from the land, and then to the horizon, a laugh already infusing through bonds and reverberations, voice low, exalting along leaves and fronds. “Only to be lured and entranced by a masked dancer on the night of a full moon.” A little smirk remained, and then he kept walking – enticing a chase.
I would still know you he wanted to goad and taunt, but left it there, hidden beneath all their other ramparts and fortifications.
The question returned to him, and by then he’d already tossed off his shoes, placing them near the boat, finishing the portions of his food, sinking toes into the warm sands, meandering, waiting for her to either follow or amble pretenses into further mischief. But the thoughts immersed into some venture of seriousness, because the man had held one occupation for so long, that another seemed strange to conspire and ponder. All he’d ever been was a soldier, or a King, and even the latter came with brutality, vengeance, and cutting, lacerating blades. To be anything else felt odd and strange, and the exercise left him muddled, perplexed, until he shrugged, forthcoming on thoughts and phrasing. “An explorer.” Stoked by curiosity, by discoveries, by enigmas, constantly emboldened by the unknown. "Someone who could blend between worlds and kingdoms." Capable of adapting, of being immersed in the ocean, and then rampaging along summits, infused with elements, twisting and turning until they knew them all.
His stare went back to her, away from the land, and then to the horizon, a laugh already infusing through bonds and reverberations, voice low, exalting along leaves and fronds. “Only to be lured and entranced by a masked dancer on the night of a full moon.” A little smirk remained, and then he kept walking – enticing a chase.
I belong to you
the way the moon belongs to the stars
the way the moon belongs to the stars
