Hurt so Good

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

Prone to listening, to staying within machinations amidst a brewing core, he absorbed the particles of Jigano’s alteration – brows lifting only slightly at the notion of Safrin instigating the change. An unwise prayer, overstretched patience, and a punishment. He thought it was odd, to perceive magic as a penalty, as a retribution, but perhaps that was merely because of who he’d always been – forged in iron and steel and enchantments since his very first breath. They’d never been called Abandoned. A majority of Isilme compatriots had shared similar contortions and invocations, unleashing their earthen wares and their healing properties, their fiery abysses, their torrential storm bracings; Helovia much the same, some capable of shifting, some broadening their horizons in creation and distortion. The only time it had ever been chiseled into a snarl or cast aside had been here. “Do you consider it a penance?” To hold and bear more means and measures? To preside in further abilities? A generalized inquiry – pondering how Jigano felt about the insinuations, about the presumptions, about how eyes shifted and recoiled. Truly though, it’d only ever been the deities who seemed irritated or vexed with the amount of sages – the twist and turns of legends and stories spurring on their malice and disapproval? And why had he bothered to rankle and incense Safrin? Even Deimos had somehow managed to avoid that – despite his obvious irreverence, his disassociation with celestial beings, his penchant for faith and accordance in himself, in others, well before a god’s jurisdiction; side effects of worlds before. “I am surprised you considered infuriating her.” An honest slide in his discourse, an arch to his brow, only slightly mocking and bemused. The Loreseeker, in all his wisdom, sagacity, and undying curiosity, should’ve known better; had seemingly spoken to the primordial beings many times. What had changed? An insistence on something? Somewhat baffled, the beast then shrugged, making his way over to the mangled targets from before, pondering if they could use some repair, or were just too far gone to bother with. Deimos only briefly inclined his head back over his shoulder at the last statement – a snort barreling through his chest and nares thereafter. “Perhaps.” And not a single response to the final notion – granting no more ammunition on that front. “One could say the same about you and Rory.” The slightest narrowing of his eyes, his own brand of humor, and then his attention was on the targets, dragging them further out into the cleared section, taking portions apart to reassemble. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate