DEIMOS
She refused to leave his shoulder, and perhaps that was a touch of reality, something he required but wouldn’t, couldn’t, say it – another word, another void, another presence inside his head that meant something other than the world falling apart, unfurling, around him. He couldn’t pervade happiness in return, not for a while, but at least he could let the waves of it flicker, bound, and leap around him, raw moments meant to be savored and cherished. When she finally drifted off muscles and frames, he dug into his bag, pulling out another jar, twisting off the lid and placing the leaf within – safekeeping, protection, until he could deliver them all to Safrin.
When he glanced up from his movements and motions, the Harpy had returned to her natural state, curling his own words back to him. There was a snort embedded through his nares, flaring, a roll of his eyes, but then his gaze sunk back to the ground, desperate to dissolve those particles and nuances into his figure, into his mind, into his thoughts too. Was there another way? Simply time? Patience? While Amalia wasted away in the infirmary? While the world erased more and more prevalence and sought continual decay? Did things ever actually get any better around here? Or did they merely shuffle from one ruined instant to the next, with brief little lulls in between, where they believed, believed, believed, placing their hopes and convictions into things doomed, damned, to be tarnished? “We shall see,” was all he could surmise, safeguarded and reserved, afraid to force faith into an abyss that might not accept it.
When he glanced up from his movements and motions, the Harpy had returned to her natural state, curling his own words back to him. There was a snort embedded through his nares, flaring, a roll of his eyes, but then his gaze sunk back to the ground, desperate to dissolve those particles and nuances into his figure, into his mind, into his thoughts too. Was there another way? Simply time? Patience? While Amalia wasted away in the infirmary? While the world erased more and more prevalence and sought continual decay? Did things ever actually get any better around here? Or did they merely shuffle from one ruined instant to the next, with brief little lulls in between, where they believed, believed, believed, placing their hopes and convictions into things doomed, damned, to be tarnished? “We shall see,” was all he could surmise, safeguarded and reserved, afraid to force faith into an abyss that might not accept it.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
