DEIMOS
He tended to the respite first; a small grin for Cordelia as she made her rounds, as the reassurance pervaded through the surroundings. A breath withheld and then extinguished in long, slow channels of his lungs, brief smirks and gratitude drifting in and amongst the fold. Pausing to pay attention to Eira for half a moment, giving her a light scratch while Belial left his arms and fluttered about the room.
He hadn’t even found another chair to sit in before Noah shared the news. But Deimos couldn’t cease the sudden welling of feelings bursting through him: a blind, unguarded panic, heart threatening to plunge, a slow, sinking apprehension far worse than any recent experiences. Enough to choke down into his throat, into his veins, incapable of hiding it as much as he would’ve once strived to endure and settle down, down, down into the fibers of his soul. He couldn’t smother the question biting against the back of his jaw either. “What about-,” because there were multitudes of feelings wrapped in the maelstrom of Noah’s announcement, but the first would be for people who’d long since left him behind. “What about Amalia?”
What did that mean? What did that signify? Was she gone? Perished? Disappeared? His fists clenched tightly until his knuckles were white, and his widened eyes went to the floor – Belial surging around before landing at his feet. A few more breaths were taken before he slowly unfurled them into something more than trepidation – the thousand other inquiries bustling around his brain as they so often did, regardless of occasions. “My apologies. Congratulations.” It was an achievement, to be recognized, and though he hadn’t taken Safrin’s offer, it didn’t mean others wouldn’t grasp the opportunity. Nor was it Noah’s fault that these chances came with so many other grating things for a Sword who’d loved a Shield. Statuesque and still, gone completely rigid, he recognized there were segments to rectify and understand. “What does that mean for our efforts?”
He hadn’t even found another chair to sit in before Noah shared the news. But Deimos couldn’t cease the sudden welling of feelings bursting through him: a blind, unguarded panic, heart threatening to plunge, a slow, sinking apprehension far worse than any recent experiences. Enough to choke down into his throat, into his veins, incapable of hiding it as much as he would’ve once strived to endure and settle down, down, down into the fibers of his soul. He couldn’t smother the question biting against the back of his jaw either. “What about-,” because there were multitudes of feelings wrapped in the maelstrom of Noah’s announcement, but the first would be for people who’d long since left him behind. “What about Amalia?”
What did that mean? What did that signify? Was she gone? Perished? Disappeared? His fists clenched tightly until his knuckles were white, and his widened eyes went to the floor – Belial surging around before landing at his feet. A few more breaths were taken before he slowly unfurled them into something more than trepidation – the thousand other inquiries bustling around his brain as they so often did, regardless of occasions. “My apologies. Congratulations.” It was an achievement, to be recognized, and though he hadn’t taken Safrin’s offer, it didn’t mean others wouldn’t grasp the opportunity. Nor was it Noah’s fault that these chances came with so many other grating things for a Sword who’d loved a Shield. Statuesque and still, gone completely rigid, he recognized there were segments to rectify and understand. “What does that mean for our efforts?”
think about this
you have the ability to survive anything
you have the ability to survive anything
