DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
He’d shattered before – and let himself fall into harsh, unrelenting pieces, jagged at the edges so no one would bother to pick them up, leave him be between the mercurial threads of darkness and foreboding. It wasn’t a fragility, but the sensation of giving up, of losing one’s self, eager to head straight into oblivion with no rhyme or reason to look back, everything cared for, cherished, or loved gone and vanquished. Anything else would’ve been a pointless venture, and he’d carved himself hellbound, adrift, waiting to catch the right thorn, the right sword, the right barb to finish what he’d started. Leave me be, he’d uttered to the world, gazing into the Stygian abyss with such a state of longing, wondering if crypts and catacombs would settle him down into the outer regions of perdition, damnation, a scathing, blistering inferno devouring his soul whole. He would’ve continued the same mantra, rinse and repeat, leave me be, leave me be, leave me be, had an onyx gaze not pinpointed itself on his audacity, on his incredulity, staying there, within the confines of broken ceilings and drifting light. He was a storm and she’d been been a haven, a sanctuary, a sanctity he didn’t deserve but moored and grounded himself within, striving to make it whole, make it real, make it something other than the rancor sizzling beneath the surface of his skin. His comment must’ve raised something else – purposeful, a predilection, a snare, laden for her – the beguiling interludes pressing in and lining his form with other desires, wanton bliss. He turned away from the oven simply to watch her, meandering her way through his home, over the plain adornments, making them better, finer, with her imprints, with her presence. The beast stared at her as if she were the sun and the stars and all the other elements in between, the smallest of smiles indented into his cheeks, dimpled, gaze hooded as she came closer. Laughter curled and coiled against his senses, conspired and shivered, undulated the roll of his muscles as he leaned forward to match her movements, stare following the swipe of her hand, the stain growing longer, more expressive over her cheek. He desperately tried to rein in his own chuckle, and so it came out strained, pulsing behind his teeth.
But he took the hint, gaze sliding down over her lips and back up again, an arch to his brow, a glimmer of something else in the depths of his ardent stare. “I have a bath upstairs.” The Reaper then maneuvered away, a ghost of his breath laden along her the shell of her ear. “So am I,” a husky whisper, an intended, guttural reverberation, before moving towards the route, the nod of his head a blatant invitation, wandering upwards, into the midst. There were doors on either side, the left his room, but he lingered to the right, opening the door and sliding across the floor towards the silver basin, twisting a knob so that the water suddenly flowed freely.
Unite and spread the heart apart
