DEIMOS
In between the plottings, the musings, the rampant decree of more relic hunting, scorching, and searching, the Sword turned toward the sea. Away from it for months, due to his own poor decisions, the fresh, sea-salt air, the rolling waves, beckoned and chased and encouraged – until more than just memories and past lives washed over.
While Belial took to a lookout spot along an outcropping of rocks, and Zuriel nestled herself on the warm sands, he plunged into the ocean, content to dive in amongst the fish, to contort and unravel muscles and power in simplicity. Manifestations of what used to be – but not the proportions that would eat and devour him inside; so the pulse of any Attuned adornments, any semblance, any sense of emotion, were awe and peace, a moment of repose.
And then, because of curiosity, because of inquiry, because sometimes he just wondered what it would be like to push himself to the limit, he took one giant gulp of air, and dove. A descent into the mass of blue, into bright, blinding hues blending into the spring sun, into fish and shimmering scales. He could’ve easily shifted into his seal bombardments, but for once the compelling nature of his soul didn’t counteract into such displays. Instead, it was his magic woven straight into his lungs; for they didn’t burn with the need for oxygen. The air curled there, and allowed him to continue pursuing down, down, down.
While Belial took to a lookout spot along an outcropping of rocks, and Zuriel nestled herself on the warm sands, he plunged into the ocean, content to dive in amongst the fish, to contort and unravel muscles and power in simplicity. Manifestations of what used to be – but not the proportions that would eat and devour him inside; so the pulse of any Attuned adornments, any semblance, any sense of emotion, were awe and peace, a moment of repose.
And then, because of curiosity, because of inquiry, because sometimes he just wondered what it would be like to push himself to the limit, he took one giant gulp of air, and dove. A descent into the mass of blue, into bright, blinding hues blending into the spring sun, into fish and shimmering scales. He could’ve easily shifted into his seal bombardments, but for once the compelling nature of his soul didn’t counteract into such displays. Instead, it was his magic woven straight into his lungs; for they didn’t burn with the need for oxygen. The air curled there, and allowed him to continue pursuing down, down, down.
who we were before bones, before dirt, before even light
we have always been deep, restless souls
we have always been deep, restless souls
