DEIMOS
the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times
for I have burned too many times
For a woman he’d known to be expressive, to jump into each and every fray, decipherable from across a room, the shuttered remnants pulled at him, the torturous wake flickering, then falling away, numbed. Was this how she felt when he did the same, when he fled the horrors, the trials, the tribulations? Like he could barely scratch the surface, like he knew nothing at all? The designation of his defects coiled behind hearts, lungs, ribs, and clenched tightly in the weight of his jaw. If he were to pry, would it matter? Would it just be enamel? Would it just be lacquer? Would she hate him for it?
Patience knotted him together, as she eventually unveiled sentiments, and the Sword didn’t miss the lifeless disregard in the way it was spoken. In the reaches of Remi and some toxins, yearning to be left for dead out in LongNight’s revolution, for her compulsions and impulse to save. To snag at dying lines and pull them from the brink. To impart life where so many others would’ve done exactly as the Alchemist requested. “How many of us are still here, because of your efforts?” Himself included; out of the dregs and shadow and clusters of oblivion, where he would’ve comfortably resided until the earth swallowed him whole. Quiet rumbles followed, made in the small room, remolding faith. “Was Ronin grateful for you?” Because that should’ve mattered too – two lives out of monster clutches – and not everything should’ve amounted to Remi's opinion.
But she’d clearly taken it to heart; friends becoming more fire-forged, reeling in their sway of time, changes, and status quos. The beast was briefly reminded of Jigano, orchestrating his narratives to the beat of his flare for twists and turns. “That is his choice, but the world always catches up to us.”
Patience knotted him together, as she eventually unveiled sentiments, and the Sword didn’t miss the lifeless disregard in the way it was spoken. In the reaches of Remi and some toxins, yearning to be left for dead out in LongNight’s revolution, for her compulsions and impulse to save. To snag at dying lines and pull them from the brink. To impart life where so many others would’ve done exactly as the Alchemist requested. “How many of us are still here, because of your efforts?” Himself included; out of the dregs and shadow and clusters of oblivion, where he would’ve comfortably resided until the earth swallowed him whole. Quiet rumbles followed, made in the small room, remolding faith. “Was Ronin grateful for you?” Because that should’ve mattered too – two lives out of monster clutches – and not everything should’ve amounted to Remi's opinion.
But she’d clearly taken it to heart; friends becoming more fire-forged, reeling in their sway of time, changes, and status quos. The beast was briefly reminded of Jigano, orchestrating his narratives to the beat of his flare for twists and turns. “That is his choice, but the world always catches up to us.”
the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life
for I have been drowning all my life
