trade this heavy cage of bones for flight

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Duties and responsibilities had been a part of his entire life – for multiple ends and reaches. Taking these opportunities, even so slight, gave a restless entity, but he’d finally seen and understood, after seasons and years and cycles, that they couldn’t keep giving, couldn’t keep sacrificing, without some boundaries of their own. To take the time to heal, to mend, to assuage, to soothe, their own battered and broken remnants – otherwise they’d be useless husks and shells, empty vessels, when they’d worked so hard to overcome. And he didn’t want to slide back into constant self-sacrifice, not when they’d all just done the same in repetitive strikes against monsters and mayhem.

So he permitted a laugh, even if it throttled his ribcage, as they sequestered themselves amongst the tub, content in the comfort of her existence and the balm of the water rising over skin and muscles, sinew and flesh and bone. “Music to my ears,” and he wrinkled his nose, one hand threading through her hair as she doused the pitcher over the ichor and banshee stained locks, untangling and unraveling while the water set about alleviating.

The question was a safe one, and he didn’t have to swallow down traces of bile or regret at the answer. “From the Old Gods side? Yes.” Noah, Remi, Ronin, Maeve, Delphia, and himself, winding their way from place to place. “I cannot say the same for the Ascended.”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same