DEIMOS
Safety, on the heels of the luxere, on the smoke and fringes of cinders and smoke curling and coiling from his presence. He could taste the fire in his mouth, stuck between his teeth, unfurling over lips, pushing through the door alongside Amalia, alongside Kiada, alongside all the other ones roaming their way from sanctum to sanctum. A portion of him wondered if all the preparations had mattered. If anything they did ever really afforded to tangible things, if it was all coming down to nothingness again. There were ashes still in his eyes and he merely gave abrupt nods to those who’d let them in, who permitted them access when they didn’t have to, refugees bound back to ice and hearths.Only thereafter did he slink into a corner, something favorable in shadows, in blends of darkness, to let the embers seethe from his heart, from his lungs. He sunk down to the floor, Zuriel not far behind, pressing her maw against emblems of stifled chests and burnt lungs – the healing staccatos and rhythms bending and blending over him, gaze cast upon the floor. His shoulders sagged, the weight increased, a mumbled regret and rue scoring over the brambles to Remi. Sorry. Then there seemed to be naught else; caught and trapped once more.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
