DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
If the whole situation weren’t so morbid, twisted, and distorted, he might have laughed. Hotaru had been so certain of the other woman’s death, and to hear she was perfectly fine and well was something he placed in the back of his mind. But the rest was a warning, an emblem he took and snatched as well with a simple nod – there was no need to delve into his portion of the perils; he’d gone and admitted it, but the Valkyrie’s aspects were up in the air. None of it was over. This little lull was likely all they’d receive, while they planned and plotted and tore things apart again.
Still toying around with the stick, and what turned out to be a little drawing of some kind of maze, he didn’t expect her to rise up and stand in front of him, or even offer him a placating maneuver to his shoulder. He purposefully eased away the tension there, so it wasn’t so bound and coiled and manifested in knots, tilting his head to glance at her from another angle. “Thank you,” came on a light snort, as if the notions were impossible and improbable to solve at the instant. There were ruminations distorting through his mind, options before the others, but the moments within were waiting games.
He wasn’t the sort of individual to vent anyway – not unless he was within sanctions of close-knit companions and friends, where they could reel off their list of enemies, adversaries, and rivals with airs of stupidity and vengeance. Something told him this wasn’t the proper foothold for that – especially if he was supposed to be learning from his recent antics. “I am not much for venting.” But he paused, eyes narrowing, rising from the sand, standing tall once more. “But I am not going to let this mistake be the moment that defines me.” Decided; something to measure with and against. Advice for her, perhaps, to not allow her the power either. On notions of other whims, his eyes went back to the mound. “Will you keep him here?”
Still toying around with the stick, and what turned out to be a little drawing of some kind of maze, he didn’t expect her to rise up and stand in front of him, or even offer him a placating maneuver to his shoulder. He purposefully eased away the tension there, so it wasn’t so bound and coiled and manifested in knots, tilting his head to glance at her from another angle. “Thank you,” came on a light snort, as if the notions were impossible and improbable to solve at the instant. There were ruminations distorting through his mind, options before the others, but the moments within were waiting games.
He wasn’t the sort of individual to vent anyway – not unless he was within sanctions of close-knit companions and friends, where they could reel off their list of enemies, adversaries, and rivals with airs of stupidity and vengeance. Something told him this wasn’t the proper foothold for that – especially if he was supposed to be learning from his recent antics. “I am not much for venting.” But he paused, eyes narrowing, rising from the sand, standing tall once more. “But I am not going to let this mistake be the moment that defines me.” Decided; something to measure with and against. Advice for her, perhaps, to not allow her the power either. On notions of other whims, his eyes went back to the mound. “Will you keep him here?”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
