DEIMOS
He was utterly silent, absorbing the play-by-play, the exchanges, the woven calamities somehow never addressed, brought back to the surface under the scalding boil of change. Adversity and alteration had rung its ugly head, and now it courted, changed, transposed things they’d always known and believed. Did they need a ruler? Did they need an army? What were they supposed to be fighting – besides each other? It was a kindled, incited melee, and he narrowed his eyes through it all, remembered days where this was just another hour, another moment in time, personalities clashing, teeth gnashing, and naught coming to fruition. Nothing was going to happen here – that much was clear, not with the brooding predilections, not with the fire and vigor simmering below old, scattered, scabbed over wounds; no one had bothered to heal them along the way. His eyes went to Kiada, silent as the grave but an obvious declaration of no cooling past his chilling depths: not here, not now. Everything was too fresh, too new, too binding and grating; no time to process or think, other than bristling, other than growling, hissing, and threatening to rip each other apart. Couldn’t that come later, after they’d figured everything else out?
Amalia tugged him along, and it seemed the cue to exit, before the world blew apart, before they ripped anything else down. He nodded towards the others, because they were comrades in arms now – and followed the baker.
{Deimos out.}
Amalia tugged him along, and it seemed the cue to exit, before the world blew apart, before they ripped anything else down. He nodded towards the others, because they were comrades in arms now – and followed the baker.
{Deimos out.}
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
