DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Push and lift, foundations of clockwork, patterns, and rhythms, settled into the bounty of his brawn. Quick, light, and swift work, able to apply his muscles, while his thoughts curtailed elsewhere – strong implications from echoes and reverberations that his existence remained solely for the sake of crafting and creating for others.
Ordinarily, the Sword would have bent and eroded under such a statement, quietly consumed by the nuance and nooses, suffocated under the weight of the barren trek, of the self-loathing. Of not being enough. Of not doing enough. Of not catering to everyone else’s needs, and ignoring his own.
And now? Now it made him nearly laugh; the boundaries set, the nuances right. Free to apply his nonchalance and reticence to the fools, to the egocentric – and finding his own demands, rather than maintaining the status quo. For once, he’d made the correct decision on where to apply his efforts, and it was no longer to the entitled, selfish, greedy, avaricious infidels roaming the world. For himself, for his friends, for his family, for his brethren; exactly as it should’ve been for lifetimes.
With this trail of notions and thoughts, a sigh flickered and followed, and then a surge of amusement that wasn’t his own lingered somewhere in between. Lifting his head from his task, and ceasing the drag of the shovel across the stones, the monolith gazed over his shoulder to see his fellow Shield. A welcome sight - and if the fringes of his Attuned nature pervaded in the etches of relief, then so be it. "Aisha," he rumbled, casting the call out into the earth, along the buildings and eaves. An arch of his brow followed, a chuckle laced along within, only emerging, perhaps, on the edges of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “What are you up to?” Presuming, of course, some antics, some mischief.
Ordinarily, the Sword would have bent and eroded under such a statement, quietly consumed by the nuance and nooses, suffocated under the weight of the barren trek, of the self-loathing. Of not being enough. Of not doing enough. Of not catering to everyone else’s needs, and ignoring his own.
And now? Now it made him nearly laugh; the boundaries set, the nuances right. Free to apply his nonchalance and reticence to the fools, to the egocentric – and finding his own demands, rather than maintaining the status quo. For once, he’d made the correct decision on where to apply his efforts, and it was no longer to the entitled, selfish, greedy, avaricious infidels roaming the world. For himself, for his friends, for his family, for his brethren; exactly as it should’ve been for lifetimes.
With this trail of notions and thoughts, a sigh flickered and followed, and then a surge of amusement that wasn’t his own lingered somewhere in between. Lifting his head from his task, and ceasing the drag of the shovel across the stones, the monolith gazed over his shoulder to see his fellow Shield. A welcome sight - and if the fringes of his Attuned nature pervaded in the etches of relief, then so be it. "Aisha," he rumbled, casting the call out into the earth, along the buildings and eaves. An arch of his brow followed, a chuckle laced along within, only emerging, perhaps, on the edges of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “What are you up to?” Presuming, of course, some antics, some mischief.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
