DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
So she could too - another connection, beyond snow and glaciers, beyond valleys past where frozen kings tried their best to fend off the rest of the world, where fiery thieves hastened across rime and stone, committed to their duties.He watched as she followed his gestures – nothing at first, until she was done inspecting his blade, the curl of embers and coil of rapacity slinking down its metallic sides. Instead of his golden glow, and from where he’d received such a hue he wasn’t entirely certain, hers was crimson, not like blood, but infernos and beckoning siren songs; his stare fixated on whatever she’d managed or maintained to embody in the sanction of the shadows. Then, all at once, it was a snowflake, rendered like a throwing star, and his heart, his lungs, his soul was suddenly homesick for a world that couldn’t, wouldn’t, have him again.
“Yes,” he paused, taking the object in his hands when she proffered it to him, sticking the points close to his skin, inspecting just for the sake of feeling the depths of the cold rushing against his flesh once more. “Like that.” It hurt in pieces and ways he couldn’t understand, a strange sort of incomprehension buried into his presence, and he sighed before returning it back to her – another portion of his sanctity gone. “Do you miss it?” He asked into the darker threads, then realized he hadn’t intonated which or what she was supposed to be lacking; swallowed down the choking remnants of forgotten caves and lost hot springs, the dazzling sight of the aurora blending across the horizon.
The Reaper had so many things here, but sometimes the mountains still called to his heart, sometimes the ocean still grasped at his soul, and sometimes the destroyed worlds echoed in his dreams.
“The Basin?” He prospered again, before sighing, inhaling on a sharper breath, wafting and waning away from the curling fronds of his own anguish and melancholy. He set himself back to work – hands closing in on one another again, then straightening out, separating, the golden glow returning back into the Stygian crag. “How much larger can you make things?” Remi had insisted there’d been tiers, parameters, levels almost; but also limitations. Deimos wanted to test her capabilities too – and ghosts reverberated in his incantations as a lengthy pike streamlined from his invocations. It appeared plain – except for the detailing, stitching, and seaming of mountains on the hilt, on the pommel, where hands could remain on what once was and could never be.
Unite and spread the heart apart
