DEIMOS
Another sigh unfurled through him, a twist and turn of air exhaling through exhausted lungs. The breath stolen upon her retreat, hand gone, and his eyes fell downward, glancing at the table, the floor, the world pressed and gone from another. It seemed to be a constant cycle of misunderstandings, and he wasn’t certain if it was his lack of clarity, she didn’t want to listen (craved more than he could currently give), or if it was a combination of both. His eyes raised back to hers, and then arched a brow, biting back a snort at her presumption. “I am not asking you to be.” Her; he only yearned for her presence in his life, for her love, her compassion, her tenderness, her faults, her flaws, her virtues, and everything in between. She didn’t need to be the only thing he ran to, the only thing causing him to wake up in the morning – the Shield was a blessing he didn’t deserve, but they were separate people, separate entities, separate individuals. She had her family and he had his. She had her roles and he had his. They came together, but were not conjoined. She was a sun, a star, a ray of light, but his world couldn’t revolve solely around her. Where he continued to balk and fail were in ensuring she comprehended: a shake of his head, movement and motion in an otherwise still void. “I just want you. I have had my days of world domination,” a light smile, to indicate some level of jocular pursuits on the latter comment. Those goals were erased, eradicated, and eliminated, when the Reaper took his final breath, sunken into the rain. His ambitions now were not so tarnished or eclipsing, blinding or grating. “I have friends. I have purpose. I have shelter.” Occupations, magic, powers, unwinding, unfurling, some use to his abilities other than grinding adversaries into the ground.
His jaw clenched, brows furrowing, puzzling over how to say something appropriately, accurately; struggling, eternally immersed far too deep in the reaches of his own mind, and not allowing anyone else to see. “I only yearn to be strong enough to protect those I cherish. I have never felt like I was enough.” The latest exploits another weight to his shoulders, when no matter his actions, they couldn’t save Adam or Peter. But there’d been others too along the way, either in this life or the last, that he couldn’t pull out of death’s reign. The level of his stare rendered back to her, piercing and puncturing. “But that is not for you to carry.” It wasn’t her responsibility, but his. The world he’d opted to take on, the fuel, the fire, the conflagration in his heart, in his bones, in his marrow, desperate to not be useless.
But then thereafter, as she reached for him again, he wondered if she would simply pull away once more, if he kept falling into her orbit, if he kept trying and it wasn’t enough – as she scraped along the gravel of his fatigue, as he felt worn down and floundering. The Sword swallowed down the choking noose, the strangling accord, striving to put the pieces into words, scratching at the surface of things he’d lost long, long before, and had difficulty believing he was worthy of still. “I am not used to anyone caring for or loving me.” Because they hadn’t – the Basin’s show of compassion or bonds was in the blood spilled, was in the motives rendered, was in the action, the impulse, of another savage, nefarious situation. He hung his head, even the conversation pervading over his enamel, over his figure, as if he were drained, worn-apart at the fringes. His voice grew quieter, solemn, deep in its veracity. “Before you, the only ones that had perished. In both of my lifetimes.” Loss, loss, and loss, his world either consumed by malice or ghosts. Fireswords, stones, and the rain; everything else fleeting, believing he’d be strong enough to withstand a life without them. “I was a weapon for my kingdom, and for a while, that was all that mattered.”
The beast finally swayed back, fingers coiling back over hers, “I am sorry that I am not what you need me to be. It takes time…” for the walls to come down, he finished along the attuned natures; he’d spent multitudes of machinations building them. “And I am exhausted.”
His jaw clenched, brows furrowing, puzzling over how to say something appropriately, accurately; struggling, eternally immersed far too deep in the reaches of his own mind, and not allowing anyone else to see. “I only yearn to be strong enough to protect those I cherish. I have never felt like I was enough.” The latest exploits another weight to his shoulders, when no matter his actions, they couldn’t save Adam or Peter. But there’d been others too along the way, either in this life or the last, that he couldn’t pull out of death’s reign. The level of his stare rendered back to her, piercing and puncturing. “But that is not for you to carry.” It wasn’t her responsibility, but his. The world he’d opted to take on, the fuel, the fire, the conflagration in his heart, in his bones, in his marrow, desperate to not be useless.
But then thereafter, as she reached for him again, he wondered if she would simply pull away once more, if he kept falling into her orbit, if he kept trying and it wasn’t enough – as she scraped along the gravel of his fatigue, as he felt worn down and floundering. The Sword swallowed down the choking noose, the strangling accord, striving to put the pieces into words, scratching at the surface of things he’d lost long, long before, and had difficulty believing he was worthy of still. “I am not used to anyone caring for or loving me.” Because they hadn’t – the Basin’s show of compassion or bonds was in the blood spilled, was in the motives rendered, was in the action, the impulse, of another savage, nefarious situation. He hung his head, even the conversation pervading over his enamel, over his figure, as if he were drained, worn-apart at the fringes. His voice grew quieter, solemn, deep in its veracity. “Before you, the only ones that had perished. In both of my lifetimes.” Loss, loss, and loss, his world either consumed by malice or ghosts. Fireswords, stones, and the rain; everything else fleeting, believing he’d be strong enough to withstand a life without them. “I was a weapon for my kingdom, and for a while, that was all that mattered.”
The beast finally swayed back, fingers coiling back over hers, “I am sorry that I am not what you need me to be. It takes time…” for the walls to come down, he finished along the attuned natures; he’d spent multitudes of machinations building them. “And I am exhausted.”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
