DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
There was blood everywhere.
On his hands. On the snow. On patchworks until they blended and blurred into a flood, and the drumming beat began. Your fault.
Singular notes saved him from falling apart at all – echoing and bounding through his mind with the rest of the horrific schisms, his name a fragment against the backdrop of ash and mountains. Halo stands.
And then there was an after; pieces and pockets of Caido salvaged by Remi’s hands, and they were gone – and he could only stand upon peaks for moments, for seconds, taking in a breath, feeling the inches of scars and the knives in his heart, and the memory of other things so clearly, so vividly, that they’d be scorched on his mind for centuries.
A beat later, and his voice was a bare rumble. “Evie Wordsworth,” caught along the cuff on his ear, and maybe she wouldn’t be able to hear with the wind whistling and his heart lurching and everything else struggling to fall into place, but he'd tried nonetheless. He always did. “It is done. We are coming home.”
He made do on the promise – wings and a flurry of feathers, sparked and united in sienna refrain, because the gales would carry him to below mountains and circuits and hellholes and dragons – to where they all were and lived and breathed.
It was difficult to discern how long it took; not bothering to calculate distances or trajectories of the sun. Mental and physical exhaustion was beyond fumes, determination melding and molding into a canvas, a slate, of forged blades and warrior prowess. They survived.
He’d repeat it endlessly in his mind, until he circled over the Citadel, until he looked down upon people and places and multitudes he cherished; hovering over broken and gnarled gates or hollowed out walls – but the land still remained, and only bricks, only stone, had fractured.
From there he drifted downward, as the sun pressed and crested, catching the warmth and the glow as he landed, as he nodded towards the soldiers standing at the aperture, as they all started to piece themselves back together.
On his hands. On the snow. On patchworks until they blended and blurred into a flood, and the drumming beat began. Your fault.
Singular notes saved him from falling apart at all – echoing and bounding through his mind with the rest of the horrific schisms, his name a fragment against the backdrop of ash and mountains. Halo stands.
And then there was an after; pieces and pockets of Caido salvaged by Remi’s hands, and they were gone – and he could only stand upon peaks for moments, for seconds, taking in a breath, feeling the inches of scars and the knives in his heart, and the memory of other things so clearly, so vividly, that they’d be scorched on his mind for centuries.
A beat later, and his voice was a bare rumble. “Evie Wordsworth,” caught along the cuff on his ear, and maybe she wouldn’t be able to hear with the wind whistling and his heart lurching and everything else struggling to fall into place, but he'd tried nonetheless. He always did. “It is done. We are coming home.”
He made do on the promise – wings and a flurry of feathers, sparked and united in sienna refrain, because the gales would carry him to below mountains and circuits and hellholes and dragons – to where they all were and lived and breathed.
It was difficult to discern how long it took; not bothering to calculate distances or trajectories of the sun. Mental and physical exhaustion was beyond fumes, determination melding and molding into a canvas, a slate, of forged blades and warrior prowess. They survived.
He’d repeat it endlessly in his mind, until he circled over the Citadel, until he looked down upon people and places and multitudes he cherished; hovering over broken and gnarled gates or hollowed out walls – but the land still remained, and only bricks, only stone, had fractured.
From there he drifted downward, as the sun pressed and crested, catching the warmth and the glow as he landed, as he nodded towards the soldiers standing at the aperture, as they all started to piece themselves back together.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
