DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Customary means and machinations, so much that he hardly had to concentrate on their form and flow, ebbed and contorted from his mind – until there was a unmistakable clink upon the stones. He ceased with the water and ice proportions for a moment, looking down to find a blade very close to his boots, crouching downwards, raising it with air proportions so that he might inspect it without his hands twisting over the roughened proportions. Someone had clearly fashioned it out of unwieldy circumstances, and his eyes narrowed in the pondering wiles of his normal machinations. Better to be safe than sorry, he conjured some wrappings, and turned, twisted, them around the object, until he could find a better manifestation of disposal, or find its owner.
Thereafter, he pocketed the blade in some portion of his deep furs and jackets, and set back to work, resuming his pace with the residual maneuvering of the icy throng (listening, perhaps, because he was very nosey, to the conversation occurring nearby; and struggling not to laugh).
--
Deimos wraps the blade up and puts it in his pocket, then continues trying to clear out the ice and snow.
Thereafter, he pocketed the blade in some portion of his deep furs and jackets, and set back to work, resuming his pace with the residual maneuvering of the icy throng (listening, perhaps, because he was very nosey, to the conversation occurring nearby; and struggling not to laugh).
--
Deimos wraps the blade up and puts it in his pocket, then continues trying to clear out the ice and snow.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
