[Training] fire and ice

Deimos Deimos had faced multiple knives, lacerations, and brutalities over skewed lifetimes, and he too had thought he could overcome them. Just dig in. Suppress. Pretend they didn’t hurt. Pretend they didn’t maim. But then the lacerations within were so decayed, blackened, mottled, and withered by the time he’d examined and scrutinized them, saw their revolution for what they were worth, the damage had long since been done. Settled in, where it made healing far more difficult. Where he’d rather move forward, and continue in the same patterns, the same threads – and one could persevere, one could endure – but for how long? His jaw locked, and he began to maneuver out of the water, away from kaleidoscope hues, rising out and over the embankments with little effort. He didn’t argue her sentiments – just that there were bound to be improved munitions in its range. “I agree. But sometimes there are better moments for it.” A shrug of his shoulders followed, because he wasn’t certain or sure when those tides were damned and due to appear either – but certainly in a safe environment, before danger truly unveiled. Before sedition spread. Before fire was more than simply flames. But the dismissal and end of the training was evident and solidified; too much too soon, and no matter what amount of other things he had to show her would sink in. Not in exhaustion, mental, physical or otherwise. So he aimed to take his leave, shouldering the bag he’d left on the ground, the companions noting the drifting, and following after his movements and motions. “Good luck then,” came on an afterthought, a frown melding somewhere in the tilt and nod of his head towards her, and trio could flicker their way back towards portals, back towards mountains. {FIN} Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime