KIADA
ok, ok, i never had wings, only feathers
& i cried like a baby when they left me
She had spent the year composed, grieving in her own ways in the aftermath, to have him and hold him and to lose him so quickly after it had begun again. A second time, a second chance, dashed away because of Longnight — the sick luxere, the monsters outside, the ability to sound like loved ones banging on the door. And nobody had let him in, nobody had dared.
She had spent a lot of the year deciding if she would have let him in, too, or if it would’ve been a trick to her like what happened between Deimos and her in their first venture to the Greatwood. The Reaper, the only one that knew him, had seen the way the two of them got along, children born and hewn from the rocks of the northernmost peaks — cold as cold could be on the outside, an inferno from within. Deimos, the man she goes to after hanging Ru’in’s lantern. The only constant in a world of inconsistencies. Her hands tremble, her body wrapped in scarves and jackets to ward away the cold, eyes brimming with tears.
She hates feeling so weak, but the feeling overcomes her worse with the blight. She feels more deeply, feels the hole he’d left behind.
Felt the warm arms of Deimos slip around her while she shudders within his grip, his grasp, trying to hold her breath and forget how to breathe if it will make the tears stop.
And it doesn’t work.
But time passes, a small amount but enough for her to compose herself, pale face buried into the Sword’s chest, awaiting the sorrow and tenderness to leave, to feel numb again because it’s better that way. She’s almost decided it, arms tightly wrapped around Deimos’ large figure, trembling and weak when she pulls them back into herself, but she doesn’t leave him. She wants to tell him no, that she doesn’t want to talk about him — but deep down she does wish to, and she knows that Deimos will not push her if that is her answer.
Icy gaze swims with tears among a reddened exterior, head lifting to look at him briefly before she turns to look back at her lantern, so carefully made with love. “Yes.” She answers shakily, voice trembling. “He pushed me down when we first met… I was eight.” She recalls, sifting through the memories of a happier time. “He used the magic he had and hid behind a bush and pushed me over. And laughed. Kianzo and Romina were there, and Ashamin too.”
She had spent a lot of the year deciding if she would have let him in, too, or if it would’ve been a trick to her like what happened between Deimos and her in their first venture to the Greatwood. The Reaper, the only one that knew him, had seen the way the two of them got along, children born and hewn from the rocks of the northernmost peaks — cold as cold could be on the outside, an inferno from within. Deimos, the man she goes to after hanging Ru’in’s lantern. The only constant in a world of inconsistencies. Her hands tremble, her body wrapped in scarves and jackets to ward away the cold, eyes brimming with tears.
She hates feeling so weak, but the feeling overcomes her worse with the blight. She feels more deeply, feels the hole he’d left behind.
Felt the warm arms of Deimos slip around her while she shudders within his grip, his grasp, trying to hold her breath and forget how to breathe if it will make the tears stop.
And it doesn’t work.
But time passes, a small amount but enough for her to compose herself, pale face buried into the Sword’s chest, awaiting the sorrow and tenderness to leave, to feel numb again because it’s better that way. She’s almost decided it, arms tightly wrapped around Deimos’ large figure, trembling and weak when she pulls them back into herself, but she doesn’t leave him. She wants to tell him no, that she doesn’t want to talk about him — but deep down she does wish to, and she knows that Deimos will not push her if that is her answer.
Icy gaze swims with tears among a reddened exterior, head lifting to look at him briefly before she turns to look back at her lantern, so carefully made with love. “Yes.” She answers shakily, voice trembling. “He pushed me down when we first met… I was eight.” She recalls, sifting through the memories of a happier time. “He used the magic he had and hid behind a bush and pushed me over. And laughed. Kianzo and Romina were there, and Ashamin too.”
& i bled every time somebody touched me
ok, ok, i wasn't beautiful, not even in golden light
does it really matter, anyway?
we all get swallowed eventually
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
