DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
At least there was laughter in the otherwise roughened ambience; the stoking of future plans, the bracing of treachery and anarchy all over again. He snorted at the monologue comment, remembering the brief tenors of her actually listening to suggestions, hosting the meeting and conference amongst assembled brethren, and how poorly, disastrously it had struck. There’d been some brief, shining moments, like Emmett’s commentary, but otherwise, much more take than give. “I experienced that with the open forum.” Loren had missed out on those opportunities; but Deimos hoped there wouldn’t ever be another pulsing and pervading from the same tyrant. The cats didn’t particularly care for the honey badger’s batting, several of them hissing, and others intending to strike back – tough, stray, alley cats, intent on surviving. The one presiding on his shoulders growled in earnest; Deimos fought not to roll his eyes. But he had found his wings, and with their plumes a further liberation, a deliverance, a sanctity he’d never thought to hold or cherish, gliding on the whims of the wind and breeze, intending to roam as far and for as long as he wished – capable of escaping the tethers, the lines, that were always so desperate to sink into his flesh. So you did. Fight or flee, the instincts always well-honed to the latter, and yet, so many of them venturing into the former. Defiance. Sedition. Revolution. Somehow, someway, it would root and tangle them into more than just audacious patterns and assaults. They’d be vicious, they’d be menacing. They’d be enough.
Unite and spread the heart apart
