DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
To Naturals, to those who’d been amidst these walls their entire lives, the stories and legends must’ve been utterly peculiar, outlandish, a conflagration of abnormal means. But there were no lies construed or shared along his teeth and tongue, not for her, and despite the specious machinations and the lack of truth he’d uttered on his intertwining journeys, they weren’t present here. She seemed to take the notions in stride, but went and composed herself back into silence, and so he did the same, chiseling his surface back to something reluctant, stoic, and nonchalant, remembering the reticence as a steady, stalwart mask when he didn’t know where to turn or what to say. He watched her instead, fingers hastening to shape leaves and flowers, as if she’d done it for a lifetime, as if it were easy to cultivate and bloom, blossom and exist, rather than devastate, ruin, and destroy. Stranger still, that he hadn’t driven himself headfirst into those latter columns yet.Eventually, the silence broke, a huge relief in a harsh intake of air, to and from the beast, sent pondering if he’d just given and granted a little too much history. “We shall see,” he shrugged, out of his hands now – the prompt there, but he’d have no hand in guiding it. That would be up to Kiada, if she could get past her anger, her hurt, and nestle down into bravery, into audacity again. He’d commend her for it, whatever the outcome. At the note thereafter though, he lifted his head to gaze upon the baker again, catching the snippet of regret and rue. “What would you say?” He asked, in case she wanted to bring it to light, in case she needed someone to hear it, in case ghosts and spirits still roamed outside walls and within thresholds – he’d have a hundred rancorous edges to proclaim. If not, that was fine too, and she could have those memories, maybe some beautiful, maybe some tragic, maybe some so painful that they didn’t bear repeating. There were some he’d never give light to again.
“I am lucky to have them.” He smiled, the beginnings of a chuckle stirred in his chest, ending on a sigh. Without those pieces of the past, he wasn’t certain where he’d be – Kiada who broke him, Rexanna who remembered him, the King before the ice, the soldier before the General, thieves and firebrands and emboldened, bestial things, when all they’d ever wanted to do was conquer the horizon. “I will always watch over those I care for.” His stare pinpointed on her, another pledge and promise, an interval of vows and assurances, words he formed with shields and swords, daggers and cutlasses, blades and knives, plots and schemes, to back them up. She’d receive the same: endless affection, protection his own unique declaration of love.
She walked away while he stirred the meat one last time, returning with a bowl, the vegetables, some herbs, milk and broth settling around their sanction. He carefully tipped the steaming grouse portions into the container, before putting the pan down, off the burner, intending to clean it up later. “What else do you need done?”
Unite and spread the heart apart
