DEIMOS
surviving is never beautiful
its blood on your hands and face
its blood on your hands and face
With Halo in order, with the Warden returned (and the burden no longer on his shoulders), the Sword was freed from the parallels, the cycles, of haunting discernments, and allowed to stretch. Permitted to wander. Free to partake in the liberation, the cycle, the very nature of his inquiring mind – to explore, to unfurl, to entangle long strides and curious notions into the backbone of the world.
And he couldn’t recall the last time such a deliverance had been marked, crossing over portals with due diligence, scaling parameters, searching, searching, searching, with Zuriel behind him and Belial overhead, with the earth beneath his feet, so different, so unknown, so enriched with potential, with sagacity, with pinions and waves of investigations and queries. No need for his furs, no need for the heavily-laden throng, for the cumbersome load on his shoulders any longer. Roaming, trekking, discovering, hair off his neck, a realm beckoning in his sights.
This world was a jungle – and he was very, very briefly reminded of the Hidden Falls, of babbling water tucked away, of covert, subversive schemes, of a war launched on the waves of vehemence. But then the memories ended, and the new ones began, his piercing eyes taking in the vines, the swathes of entangled, curling fronds, not uneasy, but calm. Careful. Composed. He watched where he placed his feet, and the unicorn did the same. Belial, for all his antics, blended in amongst the canopies and boughs, as though he belonged.
Ahead though, were other rustling noises, demeanors, a snarl, a growl, parting through the trees. Zuriel snorted, and Deimos narrowed his eyes, only to notice a stranger nearby, fallen, seemingly snatched at by the greenery. He tilted his head, but didn’t approach.
Instead, he arched a brow. “All right?” And then conformed his earth incantations, forcing the elements to disperse around her – whoever the woman was.
And he couldn’t recall the last time such a deliverance had been marked, crossing over portals with due diligence, scaling parameters, searching, searching, searching, with Zuriel behind him and Belial overhead, with the earth beneath his feet, so different, so unknown, so enriched with potential, with sagacity, with pinions and waves of investigations and queries. No need for his furs, no need for the heavily-laden throng, for the cumbersome load on his shoulders any longer. Roaming, trekking, discovering, hair off his neck, a realm beckoning in his sights.
This world was a jungle – and he was very, very briefly reminded of the Hidden Falls, of babbling water tucked away, of covert, subversive schemes, of a war launched on the waves of vehemence. But then the memories ended, and the new ones began, his piercing eyes taking in the vines, the swathes of entangled, curling fronds, not uneasy, but calm. Careful. Composed. He watched where he placed his feet, and the unicorn did the same. Belial, for all his antics, blended in amongst the canopies and boughs, as though he belonged.
Ahead though, were other rustling noises, demeanors, a snarl, a growl, parting through the trees. Zuriel snorted, and Deimos narrowed his eyes, only to notice a stranger nearby, fallen, seemingly snatched at by the greenery. He tilted his head, but didn’t approach.
Instead, he arched a brow. “All right?” And then conformed his earth incantations, forcing the elements to disperse around her – whoever the woman was.
it's fear and feeling numb at the same time
stories of a life you should've never been forced to fight
stories of a life you should've never been forced to fight
