unburned and alive

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The warnings were heard; loud and clear. He didn’t like the notions of any substance being addictive, and there was some ominous clamoring in the back of his mind. He jotted down her notes and his own, contorting lines, details, into the restrictions, no more than three ever, and only one dose per day. He considered the contemplations, tilting his head, ensuring they’d somehow fit into his plans. There were other means and measures that could be applied too. His eyes widened briefly at her warning, because the notion was amusing, and permitted a small stifled round of laughter to reverberate through his chest. “Agreed.” He paused, glancing over the parchments, the papers, the details in the orchestration. “Would you like me to try and create some?” Was there anything else required or necessary? master of nothing place; of recoil and grace