DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
There was exhaustion to be had and shared – not brought upon by physical torrents, the polish and maneuvering of muscles, or the exuberance of a hard day’s work – but the emotional tolls. The push and pull of carrying things they shouldn’t have had to, the weight of the world embedded and embossed, the distinct clarity of anguish, of hearts disassembled and learning to repair again. But the Sword would always offer a safe threshold for those he cherished, for the burrs in his side, regardless – shelter and sanctuaries, sanctums and nets, for those just as lost as he was. And maybe altogether they’d figure it out.
Worn and fatigued, the monolith only nodded at the assertion. Life would go on – Frey and Rae would have their counterparts – and more would rise from the ashes of impending assaults and sieges. He swallowed the remains of his drink and placed the glass down on the floor, listening, tilting his head, falling into the silence of his considerations. Those that would hide, survive, in their own ways. Those that would flock. Those that would group, instigate, and gather. And the monolith knew where he would fall, well before Hotaru mentioned it – because he’d been in and amongst war since he was very young, and it was a part of him. A vehement ichor that couldn’t be ceased. Couldn’t be stopped. Experience and intellect in the brimming nuances of hatred and abhorrence, of goals and aspirations only shared, only nettled, only thorned. “I do not think I have ever been able to,” and he laughed, a mocking one, ensnared and enticed for eternities and lifetimes in the temptation of bloodshed. For causes and concerns. When it simply couldn’t be dealt with any other way.
But in the meantime? Weren’t there other motions and notions to try? Salvage? Pick apart?
He didn’t know.
So he steered it away from his ignorance. “Do you want to stay here?” Until she figured out what she was doing? “We have rooms in the barracks,” and his jaw jutted in the direction of the halls, but could only imagine they didn’t fit in with her ideals. “Or I have a spare in my apartment.”
Worn and fatigued, the monolith only nodded at the assertion. Life would go on – Frey and Rae would have their counterparts – and more would rise from the ashes of impending assaults and sieges. He swallowed the remains of his drink and placed the glass down on the floor, listening, tilting his head, falling into the silence of his considerations. Those that would hide, survive, in their own ways. Those that would flock. Those that would group, instigate, and gather. And the monolith knew where he would fall, well before Hotaru mentioned it – because he’d been in and amongst war since he was very young, and it was a part of him. A vehement ichor that couldn’t be ceased. Couldn’t be stopped. Experience and intellect in the brimming nuances of hatred and abhorrence, of goals and aspirations only shared, only nettled, only thorned. “I do not think I have ever been able to,” and he laughed, a mocking one, ensnared and enticed for eternities and lifetimes in the temptation of bloodshed. For causes and concerns. When it simply couldn’t be dealt with any other way.
But in the meantime? Weren’t there other motions and notions to try? Salvage? Pick apart?
He didn’t know.
So he steered it away from his ignorance. “Do you want to stay here?” Until she figured out what she was doing? “We have rooms in the barracks,” and his jaw jutted in the direction of the halls, but could only imagine they didn’t fit in with her ideals. “Or I have a spare in my apartment.”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
