Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
At the root and core of him was eternal patience: an embodiment of time and composure, of calm amongst the calamity. Though apprehension occasionally brewed, because the unknown was a twisted, gnarled, knotted clambering between experiences and enigmas, it was the perseverance and endurance he always returned to. It was in his breath, in his lungs, in his heart, coiled against his ribs, beating alongside his veins, poised and prepared for endless onslaughts or the weathered stitchings of deliberation. For all his flaws, defects, and faults, determination wasn’t amongst them: a solid, stoic beast waiting for her to decide. He could hope, he could crave, but it wouldn’t matter unless she wanted the same – his arms still there, his figure ready to receive her in whatever way she meant to embark.
The glow of the moon lacquered over snowy feathers, extended to reach him, and his hands were poised, gentle, ready, as otter legs skimmed over water. Within an instant, she was at his chest, and his arms curled protectively, instinctively, around her, echoes and fractions of things and moments passed. Things he’d always offer, always give; strength and might, fortitude and persistence. Yes, a beat within their roles and lives, assurance as he maneuvered back to where he’d left the crystal jar, shifting and placing her along his shoulder, adjusting as necessary. If she wanted to linger on the top of his cranium or wind herself along his nape, that was fine too – whatever means were more feasible as they embarked. All right? For the moment, at least, as he grabbed hold of the container, and they began their motions along the oasis, intertwined and interspersed in laden lunar light. The beast was sorely tempted to begin swimming, diving down beneath the depths, the sensation of yesteryears and worlds apart drifting within his cranium, but not until she felt safe and secure. It wouldn’t be the same; but on the promises and convictions of more opportunities, more intervals, more aimed towards the future, this would just be a step in the right direction.
The glow of the moon lacquered over snowy feathers, extended to reach him, and his hands were poised, gentle, ready, as otter legs skimmed over water. Within an instant, she was at his chest, and his arms curled protectively, instinctively, around her, echoes and fractions of things and moments passed. Things he’d always offer, always give; strength and might, fortitude and persistence. Yes, a beat within their roles and lives, assurance as he maneuvered back to where he’d left the crystal jar, shifting and placing her along his shoulder, adjusting as necessary. If she wanted to linger on the top of his cranium or wind herself along his nape, that was fine too – whatever means were more feasible as they embarked. All right? For the moment, at least, as he grabbed hold of the container, and they began their motions along the oasis, intertwined and interspersed in laden lunar light. The beast was sorely tempted to begin swimming, diving down beneath the depths, the sensation of yesteryears and worlds apart drifting within his cranium, but not until she felt safe and secure. It wouldn’t be the same; but on the promises and convictions of more opportunities, more intervals, more aimed towards the future, this would just be a step in the right direction.
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS
