DEIMOS
Her protests were understandable nuances of a time they no longer had. Deimos was the one who offered safety. Sanctuary and shelter for himself was a rarity – only in minute stretches of moments like these, which he still found a way to blemish. He marched into too many semblances and embarked into too many altercations with sedition in his lungs; Refuge was with her, and other cherished ones, where he could simply be. The Sword shook his head, the smile still etched in the corner of his mouth, unwilling to falter along inscrutable lines, or pierce himself into pieces in front of her. A quiet rumble followed the outset, systems of comprehension and nuances of the world they lived within. “Then who goes? Another to take my place?” Someone not as capable or strong, sent to be slaughtered? A sharpening glance to the gallows? A kicking and screaming martyr? You know better than that curled into his mind, but remained unspoken.
Her movements left him confused for half a moment, piercing eyes watching her hand slide to the familiar daggers, complexities and perplexities bursting on his brows. Only after she had quickly shorn a lock of red did he tilt his head in slight bewilderment, watching as the crimson strands were placed between them – that this was supposed to be a sentiment of her existence still with his. Pathways of memories and tangibility.
The words left him stunned, until hands contorted and permitted vibrant, gilded incantations to encircle over the tresses, a little glass container to keep them together, rather than apart. “Of course,” and he’d parse it right next to the bauble Safrin had given him – one for truth and one for assurance. “Thank you.” It’d be enough; resting next to his heart as they embarked further into devastation and ruin.
But then another idea sparked, and soon he was rustling through his bag, snagging at an item long since instilled towards the bottom. The ear cuffs, made of bone, elongated and meant to curl along the folds of the shells – meant, once, to be some communication device for Halo. But then Morgan had dissipated into her allegiances elsewhere, and they’d been committed to coups and banishments. “These are made to communicate across any distance,” and he held out for the pair for her to inspect. “We can wear one each.”
Her movements left him confused for half a moment, piercing eyes watching her hand slide to the familiar daggers, complexities and perplexities bursting on his brows. Only after she had quickly shorn a lock of red did he tilt his head in slight bewilderment, watching as the crimson strands were placed between them – that this was supposed to be a sentiment of her existence still with his. Pathways of memories and tangibility.
The words left him stunned, until hands contorted and permitted vibrant, gilded incantations to encircle over the tresses, a little glass container to keep them together, rather than apart. “Of course,” and he’d parse it right next to the bauble Safrin had given him – one for truth and one for assurance. “Thank you.” It’d be enough; resting next to his heart as they embarked further into devastation and ruin.
But then another idea sparked, and soon he was rustling through his bag, snagging at an item long since instilled towards the bottom. The ear cuffs, made of bone, elongated and meant to curl along the folds of the shells – meant, once, to be some communication device for Halo. But then Morgan had dissipated into her allegiances elsewhere, and they’d been committed to coups and banishments. “These are made to communicate across any distance,” and he held out for the pair for her to inspect. “We can wear one each.”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
