DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Perhaps that was it – less human contortions, more animalistic exploits, instinct and intuition, giving away machinations and calculations. It was difficult, when he’s always been a fringe of immorality and an epitome of coldblooded designations. But her delight kept a harmonious edge and border on his thoughts, immersing and intertwining amongst the other twists and turns. Until finally, amidst waves of snow, of ice, he simply had to let go.
No control, no tight, taut, tethered lines, just an expression of feral ventures and exploits – an exhale solidified as mortal, flawed, failed soldier, and an inhale on the boundaries of a savage, inherently barbaric beast. No excess of ruminations, hollowing out his core, becoming pieces and enamel and lacquer of the tiger, instead of the man.
And he could fathom destruction, havoc, wreckage, and demolition without flesh and blood.
He joined in the skirmish of disastrous efforts – a rampage, a battering ram of motion and movement, undulating, rippling accord of muscles and vitriol streamlined over the snow, lifting the powder into channels and tracks of devastation and oblivion. It flew in outward lines and scales, in all directions, while he struck, while he mauled, while he simply existed, in the moment. There were no plans, only a growl, a rumble in his chest, diversions and amusement finally sliding through. His feline eyes caught her veering, far, far swifter, and there was no way to avoid the impending collision.
Captured for an instant, he merely raised his skull upwards, not expecting the assault of affection, snorting, purring, content in the regards. In response, he gently pushed his cranium into hers, sliding his cheek and whiskers along in a demonstrative accord reminiscent of a head boop.
No control, no tight, taut, tethered lines, just an expression of feral ventures and exploits – an exhale solidified as mortal, flawed, failed soldier, and an inhale on the boundaries of a savage, inherently barbaric beast. No excess of ruminations, hollowing out his core, becoming pieces and enamel and lacquer of the tiger, instead of the man.
And he could fathom destruction, havoc, wreckage, and demolition without flesh and blood.
He joined in the skirmish of disastrous efforts – a rampage, a battering ram of motion and movement, undulating, rippling accord of muscles and vitriol streamlined over the snow, lifting the powder into channels and tracks of devastation and oblivion. It flew in outward lines and scales, in all directions, while he struck, while he mauled, while he simply existed, in the moment. There were no plans, only a growl, a rumble in his chest, diversions and amusement finally sliding through. His feline eyes caught her veering, far, far swifter, and there was no way to avoid the impending collision.
Captured for an instant, he merely raised his skull upwards, not expecting the assault of affection, snorting, purring, content in the regards. In response, he gently pushed his cranium into hers, sliding his cheek and whiskers along in a demonstrative accord reminiscent of a head boop.
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
