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 sad notion was that Deimos had every ability to be calm, clear-headed, and composed – frequented it on many occasions, could step back, could mull, could puzzle, could piece together rhyme and reason. Just not when his friends were involved. Just not when Amalia was involved. There were too many losses in his life to always revert back to the coldblooded, detached machine, the beast who’d stood back and watched worlds shift apart, the warrior, the ice king, who sat upon his throne and orchestrated tactics, strategies, and ruses without thinking of those infiltrating or assaulting (he’d been in the sieges too – right next to them, vehement and distant, realms away, ferocity tipping the scales in his mind). His affection had somehow managed to mold him into an impulsive fool when vehemence threatened to strike over brethren and kin; so maybe he needed the humorous traces, the foundation of Jigano’s sagacity, to keep him from going over the edge and diving headlong into treachery: it’d be an absolute that he would’ve managed to somehow get himself maimed, mauled, or murdered in the process of gaining Amalia’s liberation. I’ll be there echoed and bounded; and he had to briefly wonder when he had no longer been left alone, to his own devices, to his own war-torn clarities and nothingness. Then the Spire came up again – Jigano needling the fringes and edges back into the forefront. He’d only mentioned it once before to him, the same evening they’d all almost perished in that damned threshold – he could liken it to Hell, with the way it made him feel (useless), with the way it had thrashed, burned, and scalded against all of them – if not for the poison, then the fruitless, end result. His eyes narrowed, more apt to discuss the predilections currently – cranium warping in the other direction, possibly grateful for the distraction. “What do you intend to do?” What else was down there? All he could recall were the plants – deadly and toxic, spreading their venom, their vitriol, deep into his lungs and veins, and no matter what he concocted or dealt with, he’d still had to run. How was it supposed to go differently this time? For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate