DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
For now might have insinuated an ominous siege or assault, if it hadn’t come through realms of amusement and torturous puns. He snorted again through all of it, leaving the midst of wordplay behind (never his strength, clearly), diving along, stretching his arms, his legs, into a series of perfected, practiced movements. The Tides’ children were always taught to be brave and powerful in their executed motions – never to fight against the roll of the tide, the ripples and adornments of the currents, but to simply become a part of them, strength and strength, prowess and prowess, knowing, understanding, they’d never be as wild, as brazen, as the ocean itself. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t thrive in its fathoms, couldn’t reel along its depths, couldn’t learn to savor the might and glory for themselves in bits and pieces. Perhaps that was why they’d all been emboldened, irreverent creatures, learning quickly what it meant to be lethal, dangerous, and unafraid.
He hid his amusements at the echo of the dragon’s snort well, muffling it down into his lungs, billowing it in strangled strains when he reached the surface to breathe. The beast also expected rebuttal – though perhaps not by way of little fish, who snagged at his feet and toes with ridiculous abandon. On impulse, he kicked back, though his form went through a series of indistinct chuckles that might have indicated he was ticklish, before turning himself over, floating along the current.
And sending, thanks to a potency within his mind, a potent, bestial wave, meant to rise and crash over the top of the dragon’s body.
He hid his amusements at the echo of the dragon’s snort well, muffling it down into his lungs, billowing it in strangled strains when he reached the surface to breathe. The beast also expected rebuttal – though perhaps not by way of little fish, who snagged at his feet and toes with ridiculous abandon. On impulse, he kicked back, though his form went through a series of indistinct chuckles that might have indicated he was ticklish, before turning himself over, floating along the current.
And sending, thanks to a potency within his mind, a potent, bestial wave, meant to rise and crash over the top of the dragon’s body.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
