DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Mischief, bemusement, distractions, deterrents from the unyielding cloud hovering over him – head tilted for a moment, before he was pulled into the waves, into the shoal, into something other than melancholy and hesitation. His initial reaction to Amalia’s newest shift, something quite dolphin-like, but in a hue of very vivid pink, he snorted; not at her, but at the scene itself. Impressive, which was the truth, with something like a chuckle, like warm laughter, billowing through the Attuned bond. Before long the weight that had clung to his shoulders dissipated in the distinction of the waves, one arm extending in patterns of swimming, the other along her fin, occasionally dipping his head below the surface of the water, eyes opening beneath its veneer to peer, to spy, to find.
On the last lingering occasion he raised his cranium back up to find Amalia altered, and the laughter sprung from his chest on an even pulse. Rags and masks on top of the dolphin adornments inspired another round of chuckles. “Quite a new look,” he embarked on another snicker – before extending his free palm, churning and raising the water, as if to uncover the hidden herald along its fathoms, and possibly shield Amalia too, if any came meandering into the water for her – though too bemused and distracted, he’d missed the entire charade along the beach.
On the last lingering occasion he raised his cranium back up to find Amalia altered, and the laughter sprung from his chest on an even pulse. Rags and masks on top of the dolphin adornments inspired another round of chuckles. “Quite a new look,” he embarked on another snicker – before extending his free palm, churning and raising the water, as if to uncover the hidden herald along its fathoms, and possibly shield Amalia too, if any came meandering into the water for her – though too bemused and distracted, he’d missed the entire charade along the beach.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
