i wonder which will get you killed faster - your loyalty
The world was altered and rearranged, but Zuriel, much like her bonded, didn’t particularly care in those moments. The familiarity was enough, leaning into the touch, into the return of the Harpy, saying more in her movements and motions that she could possibly convey otherwise. The mare didn’t mind the chill, because this was still Kiada, and they could make something out of the despair trapping the Sword, they could re-shape, re-hone, re-fortify the losses. Even when she was released, the mythical beast snorted, a warm puff of air, leaning her heavy head over the girl’s shoulder. Like moments of normalcy. Like it wasn’t all lost.
And then it was the Sword’s turn, and he ignored the chill, the coldness of her skin, the adornments of fangs and what it all meant – savoring what he could, while he could. Maybe that made him greedy. Maybe that made him human. Maybe that made him less burdened, less ruined, less broken and brittle and torn. The monolith shifted his hands, made them engulf hers, surround, provide some semblance of warmth she wouldn’t have again. Her fire hadn’t gone out. It’d simply been altered, changed, along with everything else. But he had enough, more than enough – and hadn’t he always given them, those loved, cherished, beloved ones, anything and everything he could? “I did not,” he murmured in the quiet, matching her grin for a Cheshire one of his own, dimpling in the corners of his cheeks, some measure of juvenile emblems. “There are springs in the Climb, and we used the water to keep the sickness at bay for a while. Then we had to gather lilies to put behind the falls. It took us until the end of Longheat.” A pause, a breath, the smile still there. “Which summoned a leviathan.”
And then it was the Sword’s turn, and he ignored the chill, the coldness of her skin, the adornments of fangs and what it all meant – savoring what he could, while he could. Maybe that made him greedy. Maybe that made him human. Maybe that made him less burdened, less ruined, less broken and brittle and torn. The monolith shifted his hands, made them engulf hers, surround, provide some semblance of warmth she wouldn’t have again. Her fire hadn’t gone out. It’d simply been altered, changed, along with everything else. But he had enough, more than enough – and hadn’t he always given them, those loved, cherished, beloved ones, anything and everything he could? “I did not,” he murmured in the quiet, matching her grin for a Cheshire one of his own, dimpling in the corners of his cheeks, some measure of juvenile emblems. “There are springs in the Climb, and we used the water to keep the sickness at bay for a while. Then we had to gather lilies to put behind the falls. It took us until the end of Longheat.” A pause, a breath, the smile still there. “Which summoned a leviathan.”
or your stubbornness?
DEIMOS
