DEIMOS
Even without his orders, without his command, she could’ve come to those talents on her, cultivated, orchestrated, his notes and demands not an essential contortion to her growth. It would’ve likely flowed naturally, along the decibels of winter winds, along the eternity of glacial wares and expanses. His part was arbitrary and likely meaningless – a throne and sometimes naught more than a weapon, measuring out his machinations, his calculations, with iron fists and predacious power.
But they were altered in ways, and the same in others – changes not as rapid, morphed in either erosion, time, or due to another’s tolerance, acceptance, sirens and Penumbras, Reapers and Swords, clarity and fortitude, might and steadfast paths. At her thank you though, he wanted to express that he should’ve been capable of more, always reaching for those platitude, for stalwart patterns out of the fire, out of the contempt, out of wrath, and resulting infernos. “You are welcome,” he bowed his head, even though she couldn’t see, eyes on floorboards, on the dusky, Stygian hollows not ignited, not encroached upon by the fire’s light. He took her last statement as an invitation to depart, rising from his chair, uncertain of what to do or where to go, a little bit lost when the seething armaments were gone and all they had left were remaining junctures and chipped pieces. “I will leave you be then,” a small smile, then naught more, except for he and Zuriel’s exit, quietly closing the door, then standing outside it like a guard.
But they were altered in ways, and the same in others – changes not as rapid, morphed in either erosion, time, or due to another’s tolerance, acceptance, sirens and Penumbras, Reapers and Swords, clarity and fortitude, might and steadfast paths. At her thank you though, he wanted to express that he should’ve been capable of more, always reaching for those platitude, for stalwart patterns out of the fire, out of the contempt, out of wrath, and resulting infernos. “You are welcome,” he bowed his head, even though she couldn’t see, eyes on floorboards, on the dusky, Stygian hollows not ignited, not encroached upon by the fire’s light. He took her last statement as an invitation to depart, rising from his chair, uncertain of what to do or where to go, a little bit lost when the seething armaments were gone and all they had left were remaining junctures and chipped pieces. “I will leave you be then,” a small smile, then naught more, except for he and Zuriel’s exit, quietly closing the door, then standing outside it like a guard.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
