DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
His thoughts had been dark and suffocating, consuming and destructive, for far too long. He didn’t let them shackle and tether now, not when they had some grips on the world again – somewhere to go, something to do rather than wallow. Make peace with the nature of alterations (a notion he often detested), with the bounty of what was left in the aftermath. The Sword could recover. The Valkyrie could hasten away the Flood. And there were pieces lodged in between, taking their bites of might, holding vengeance over those wronged, and preparing for the inevitable.
And for once, there were no aspects, no thoughts, of being alone.
He should’ve known better as her hand reached for the ears, rearing his head back and utilizing his height to his advantage, shoving her away and breaking apart the hold for rounds of laughter. She snagged hold of one and his cranium inevitably tilted, but the snort was embedded in there – and the alteration in his features from warm smiles to absolute offense. A very boyish, juvenile wrinkle to his nose surfaced, much like a pouting child, and he reeled back from the notions of adorable. “Disgusting.”
A tease for a taunt then, at her next inquiry, as he broke off the touches and fragments, beset into Cheshire endeavors now. “Maybe a shrew.” He folded his arms across his chest, seeming getting ready for need of protection and defense. “A weasel.” The grin grew into a smirk, all teeth and amusements. “A mosquito.” More quiet considerations followed and flickered, pondering over the thoughts and wiles, the notions of who Hotaru was. “They are within your soul, apparently.” He shrugged; considering the amount of massive predators embedded in his skin, the notions fit. “What do you think you would be?” He pointed one finger solely onto her forehead, holding her away, as if he might flick her on the skin, but laughed all the while. “You are cunning, bold, and powerful. What would fit?”
As for uses of silence? His smirk grew deeper. “Excellent for planning around enemies.”
And for once, there were no aspects, no thoughts, of being alone.
He should’ve known better as her hand reached for the ears, rearing his head back and utilizing his height to his advantage, shoving her away and breaking apart the hold for rounds of laughter. She snagged hold of one and his cranium inevitably tilted, but the snort was embedded in there – and the alteration in his features from warm smiles to absolute offense. A very boyish, juvenile wrinkle to his nose surfaced, much like a pouting child, and he reeled back from the notions of adorable. “Disgusting.”
A tease for a taunt then, at her next inquiry, as he broke off the touches and fragments, beset into Cheshire endeavors now. “Maybe a shrew.” He folded his arms across his chest, seeming getting ready for need of protection and defense. “A weasel.” The grin grew into a smirk, all teeth and amusements. “A mosquito.” More quiet considerations followed and flickered, pondering over the thoughts and wiles, the notions of who Hotaru was. “They are within your soul, apparently.” He shrugged; considering the amount of massive predators embedded in his skin, the notions fit. “What do you think you would be?” He pointed one finger solely onto her forehead, holding her away, as if he might flick her on the skin, but laughed all the while. “You are cunning, bold, and powerful. What would fit?”
As for uses of silence? His smirk grew deeper. “Excellent for planning around enemies.”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
