DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
On her burst of color and fur, he focused on the streamlined emotions pulsing and pervading through their senses – confused, at first, by the heart-wrenching modicums, pondering if he’d erred somewhere again, unbeknownst to him – before they ultimately shifted in a boundless wake of energy and fervency.
Then, as so often things unfurled between them, there began a game, a challenge, administered by the sleeker Amalia, far faster, far swifter, than his bulk, than his brawn, true to life again. He snorted at first, the sounds shifting bizarrely through nares, staring down his nose for a moment before a wad of snow batted him straight in the face, and he was forced to shake his head to rid it off his nose.
A call to anarchy and mischief then.
He was far out of his element – used to carnivore reaches of human forms, where he hunted and stalked, where he preyed and manifested voids, these ones unfamiliar, but the notion still there, coiled in the back of his mind. While she instigated and invoked, swindling at his tail, he maneuvered forward, slow and steady and not quite certain of his levels of speed, before bringing back a massive paw. His intentions were to collect the snow on a long, lingering swipe, balling them up into a solid mass and launching it forward, perhaps sailing towards her side.
If there was laughter coiling through their connections, some warm rendering of amusement, that was all the better, intending to find some joy between the tempestuous stages of their lives.
Then, as so often things unfurled between them, there began a game, a challenge, administered by the sleeker Amalia, far faster, far swifter, than his bulk, than his brawn, true to life again. He snorted at first, the sounds shifting bizarrely through nares, staring down his nose for a moment before a wad of snow batted him straight in the face, and he was forced to shake his head to rid it off his nose.
A call to anarchy and mischief then.
He was far out of his element – used to carnivore reaches of human forms, where he hunted and stalked, where he preyed and manifested voids, these ones unfamiliar, but the notion still there, coiled in the back of his mind. While she instigated and invoked, swindling at his tail, he maneuvered forward, slow and steady and not quite certain of his levels of speed, before bringing back a massive paw. His intentions were to collect the snow on a long, lingering swipe, balling them up into a solid mass and launching it forward, perhaps sailing towards her side.
If there was laughter coiling through their connections, some warm rendering of amusement, that was all the better, intending to find some joy between the tempestuous stages of their lives.
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
