DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The nostalgia reigned in quiet subterfuge; and he laughed when she announced the Edge was boring - dull, lifeless, foggy, and drab. He didn’t have quite the same sentiments: the World’s Edge had been his first home after Isilme, brief and succinct, but he recalled the gnarled crashing of the waves, the infernal, labyrinthine life; how it had emboldened him towards the Moonlit Tides, how he had stretched his guard’s sword across its threshold and dared to pierce it into an intruder’s flesh. It hadn’t mattered in the end though, gone in a matter of moments, once they were invaded, once they were sieged, assaulted, and assailed; the lights gone out on their glassy walls – refugee scorn spurning them into the Steppe, where they’d held their ground, simmered, and seethed. Perhaps after everything, the Basin really had been better; in some ways, in some machinations, in some schemes, or perhaps more of a unified front of distinction and power, flexing their prowess even when it seemed useless. But then it drifted away – the spells broken for another time – Rexanna meandering away from the underground’s cavernous exploits. “Stay safe,” he nodded and indulged, waiting for her to leave, hands finding the brooch while he passed the time, then made his own escape.
Unite and spread the heart apart
