DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
No instigation for the first blow; despite the already seething provocations? He pondered the matter – the Reaper had always ensued one, singular warning before unraveling, before unfurling, before unleashing a torrential, devastating blow; ominous and forbidding, and eventually others understood he meant what he said. There were always the foolish, the inept, the stupid, striving to roam along his grounds, his kingdom, his sovereign, and threaten the lives of his citizens – but less and less as the years went by, as his crown grew heavier, as the world shifted and turned. Violence did beget violence, and he was an individual that thrived on its hull and harpoons, in its shell and vessels, in its fortifications and assailments. He could only alter and change so much. There were other ways, and they’d all certainly expressed them in things other than munitions; but did that matter to Zariah, when she’d already dealt the directives, pulled at the strings? “Let me know what you need when the time comes.” Because he’d have Deimos’ support; a bestial, rampaging, destructive force – the twist and turns of the past echoing through his ears, through his memories, through his heart and lungs.But on the notion of gods and their rendered benedictions, he snorted throughout the attuned bond. I asked for more strength. More and more and more, a rapacious edge, sharpened by the need to do something for those who surrounded him, who kept pressing into his orbit, who accepted and tolerated every inch of his discord and reticence. She said I had it within. To cease and desist grasping for things outside, to search into his soul, to see past the ghosts, the catacombs, the sepulchers that haunted him each and every day. And then dropped me from the sky. To fall and die, or to regard himself inwardly; hands extended into wings and feathers, into noble, eagle distinction.
Unite and spread the heart apart
