DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Home had always been a considerable ease in his heart – the way the eaves carried snow and ice for eternities, the way the rime glimmered beneath layers and lacquer, the way the people survived, determined and resolute, the way comfort eased into his entity the moment he glanced upon the Evergreen, the way in which this earth wasn’t always so damned haunted. Rest sounded like a distant fog, a fortitude not yet found. Not before, but maybe after.
And though her healing incantations wouldn’t be able to counteract anything along his form, she’d already found other ways to nurture and tend and mend a discarded soul. A muffled word of protest left his lips, only to be sedated as she strived and tried anyway. He carried them onward, shaking his head, something like bemusement threatening in his lungs, because giving way to everything else wasn’t acceptable. Tired eyes found her, lifting and widening slightly as she began to describe in minute details, a snort discerned and fumbling at her pride, at her amusement, at how this had all transpired. “You did not try to take it for a ride?” The corner of his mouth curled, lips moving to her hairline. “Proud of you.” Of scars. Of healing. Of fending and protecting and ensuring their world was safe, uncertain of how a damned banshee had made it all the way to Halo, but not inquiring on it at any rate. His words held more promise anyway. “How is everyone else?”
And though her healing incantations wouldn’t be able to counteract anything along his form, she’d already found other ways to nurture and tend and mend a discarded soul. A muffled word of protest left his lips, only to be sedated as she strived and tried anyway. He carried them onward, shaking his head, something like bemusement threatening in his lungs, because giving way to everything else wasn’t acceptable. Tired eyes found her, lifting and widening slightly as she began to describe in minute details, a snort discerned and fumbling at her pride, at her amusement, at how this had all transpired. “You did not try to take it for a ride?” The corner of his mouth curled, lips moving to her hairline. “Proud of you.” Of scars. Of healing. Of fending and protecting and ensuring their world was safe, uncertain of how a damned banshee had made it all the way to Halo, but not inquiring on it at any rate. His words held more promise anyway. “How is everyone else?”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
