DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Isuma receded from his scratching efforts, invoking curiosity over along the wooden legs, but his sigh had also gained Jigano’s attention. “Only creation.” The too presuming the Sage was having the same underlying issues – fire still waged, water still curled, life drain still pulsed. What it meant wasn’t exactly clear either – perhaps there’d been some alteration along enchantments, somehow, someway, but why nothing else seemed affected was bizarre too. He was half-tempted to ask Safrin, but shrugged it away, knowing better. The goddess likely wouldn’t care.
While Jigano unfurled his own memories, Deimos attempted more emblems, more banners, concocting tiny portions of wood again, meant to remain on the legs, formed like the skeletal body. He could always put something within to remind them of the mushrooms growing from the beast, or any other plant life coiling around rib cages. It was small, minimal, but there all the same, and then he took another break, clenching and unclenching his fists. Perhaps Adam’s ridiculous nature had been a front, not willing to betray the individual underneath. Easy to write off or cast aside the jester, leave him be; the Sword’s features formed back into some semblance of reticence as he stared across the sea. “Sounds like he had quite a few to care about him too.” Which perhaps made the whole event all the more tragic and stupid.
While Jigano unfurled his own memories, Deimos attempted more emblems, more banners, concocting tiny portions of wood again, meant to remain on the legs, formed like the skeletal body. He could always put something within to remind them of the mushrooms growing from the beast, or any other plant life coiling around rib cages. It was small, minimal, but there all the same, and then he took another break, clenching and unclenching his fists. Perhaps Adam’s ridiculous nature had been a front, not willing to betray the individual underneath. Easy to write off or cast aside the jester, leave him be; the Sword’s features formed back into some semblance of reticence as he stared across the sea. “Sounds like he had quite a few to care about him too.” Which perhaps made the whole event all the more tragic and stupid.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
