Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
The press of morning had permitted him a stretch of wings, some decent slumber from roosting and allowing Belial to keep watch of their makeshift stance, and then a whisper of plumage brought him towards a shrine at the top of the barrows. Inlet and altar-ed, pressings of graves and wounds of old, ancient and primordial, had him glancing along the height of the venue and looking down, down, down upon the land. The spread of a world where circumstances had bled into the region, and how it reflected back. In between shifts, he sighed, head bowed, apologies rendered in silence for all the things he couldn’t do, couldn’t salvage, couldn’t save, and placed a star-rimmed mirror at its ramparts, pressed in amongst the stone and other offerings.
And from there, he flew again – to more promises and more potential, to more prowess and restless boughs, to the intertwining of smoke rising down below, to what letters had meant and signified. Twins. Safety. Friends who hadn’t fallen to pieces, but stole back something from the void.
The eagle’s eyes were strong and forbearing too, as they caught glimpses of the individuals upon his descent, one feral screech, one echoing throng: Ru, before the deliberation was on, twisting and turning, tucking and falling, until wings opened up once more and it was just the Sword and the Valkyrie and two little ones. Only when he stood before them did he open up his arms, for her to go wherever she felt, or to pass a child over, or anything else but be away any longer.
And from there, he flew again – to more promises and more potential, to more prowess and restless boughs, to the intertwining of smoke rising down below, to what letters had meant and signified. Twins. Safety. Friends who hadn’t fallen to pieces, but stole back something from the void.
The eagle’s eyes were strong and forbearing too, as they caught glimpses of the individuals upon his descent, one feral screech, one echoing throng: Ru, before the deliberation was on, twisting and turning, tucking and falling, until wings opened up once more and it was just the Sword and the Valkyrie and two little ones. Only when he stood before them did he open up his arms, for her to go wherever she felt, or to pass a child over, or anything else but be away any longer.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
