DEIMOS
The words weren’t anything new; he’d tried, he’d tried, he’d tried, but between his grief and Amalia’s the tethers, the bindings, the accursed momentum had been reeling, and maneuvering forward an exhausting, fragile mess. They were all bound into these thresholds and footholds that were smaller, shifting into perilous, paralyzing circumstances over and over and over again. It might’ve been one thing if they had any breathing room – but after Fiat Lux had been temples falling, and after temples falling had been Adam and Peter dying. In between there’d been naught but grasping, clenching claws, struggling, striving, to figure out what mattered, what they could still hold together.
He almost asked Loren how, and then wondered if he’d even have the answer. If any of them did. Because long ago he’d pushed everything deep down and let it collapse on him from the inside out. Because that was easier than scraping along rock bottom, maintaining misery as the status quo. Like always was all he could add, basking, gliding, over the stretch of dunes.
He almost asked Loren how, and then wondered if he’d even have the answer. If any of them did. Because long ago he’d pushed everything deep down and let it collapse on him from the inside out. Because that was easier than scraping along rock bottom, maintaining misery as the status quo. Like always was all he could add, basking, gliding, over the stretch of dunes.
gatekeeper of an endless war
where lines between right and wrong
don't exist anymore
