fair warning

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

The Reaper might’ve been amused by the disguise had his temper not been incensed, stoked, fed flames and too many potential outcomes. “I did,” he spoke, rising from his crouch beside Zuriel’s shoulder, tugging away the piece of armor and leather, watching it fall away from her frame so he could adjust it accordingly. The unicorn’s gaze, much like his own, rested firmly on the bard, narrowing suspiciously, before she turned away, ambling towards a patch of grass. Deimos stretched the leather over a piece of wood, stitching a seam that needed to be extended. Brooding, brewing, bristling, uncertain of how to proceed without causing the situation to escalate – because the memories of the day at the notice board had been all too clear and real; a festering, withering contortion and munition. He’d been afraid for her, for Kiada, deep in the Faw woods, caught and snagged, desperate to tear into someone’s hide and sharpen his blade on their flesh. It hadn’t done him much good, in the way of things – the frayed ends hadn’t mended themselves until much later, and Amalia had rescued herself. It could happen again. He could feel the cycle rippling over his hide, his mind a hive of expositions and exhaustion, working its way through frenetic fervencies and irreverent pulses. Control, he muttered to himself, though it might’ve been Zuriel’s voice too, unimpressed with the vitriol and vehemence threatening to explode. It curled over his fingers as he worked on the armor, as he found other things for his hands to do besides choke or throttle someone. He was silent for a long, long time, diffident and discordant, shoving the apprehension, the consternation, the irreverence through his throat, willing something to batter against his teeth and tongue. Eventually, he managed to raise his eyes to the guised bard – who’d tried to save himself from a damned list, who rebelled in a quiet, hushed form, and who had begun to wove a series of circumstances and consequences – neither knew the outcome. “After taking over the guild in your stead, Amalia received a letter from Zariah, stating unless you gave yourself up, she would be arrested.” Then he waited, taut and rigid, for the reaction, for the synapses, for the sagacity and wisdom to render themselves capable – because the world knew Deimos wouldn’t stay still for long. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate