DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Treading water, comfortable in the waves, he listened, gaze catching over the rolling surf, the shades of blue, memories drifting and catching, then pummeling elsewhere, searing and segmenting back to the present. Jigano, from the inland countries, whereas Deimos had been granted the coast, luminary abysses and eternal warfare. The Sword paid no mind to any of the Sage’s fumblings or inexperience; he’d done so more than once in eagle form, when he’d been attempting to get used to it. He followed while the beast talked, diving down several other instances, content to merely pass the time amongst the surface and the sprawl, effortless movements and motions of muscles; hiding the subtle smirk as a larger swell careened towards the dragon’s entity.
Only on the question did he rise again, still some yards away, in case the beast had other trials and tribulations. “I was born beside the ocean,” he offered, the slightest bit of information, the notions Jigano could likely surmise for himself. All of the Tides children were expected to learn how to swim; there were no questions, no rebuttals, no challenges. It was survival and strength; basking amongst the currents and shorelines, racing and chasing after gulls, the taste of sea-salt air in their mouths. To be wild and savage, to be powerful and dominating, to be supreme and skilled, echoes of mastery and command. The mountains had only come after he lost those vibrant pieces of the past.
Only on the question did he rise again, still some yards away, in case the beast had other trials and tribulations. “I was born beside the ocean,” he offered, the slightest bit of information, the notions Jigano could likely surmise for himself. All of the Tides children were expected to learn how to swim; there were no questions, no rebuttals, no challenges. It was survival and strength; basking amongst the currents and shorelines, racing and chasing after gulls, the taste of sea-salt air in their mouths. To be wild and savage, to be powerful and dominating, to be supreme and skilled, echoes of mastery and command. The mountains had only come after he lost those vibrant pieces of the past.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
