DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Floating along his back, staring up along the sky, the pressing sun, more cloud manta rising, flapping overhead, they could’ve sunken into silent repose. But Deimos, no matter which title he went by (either Reaper or Sword) never seemed capable of being immersed into peace for very long. The churn of LongNight, especially after last year’s debacle, was a constant weight in his mind with the changing and alterations of seasons, the rest of them ignited by some segment of tragedy or trauma. Winter was usually no different, especially with the final week of its knives and demons.
Intriguing to hear that Jigano intended to spend its time with Rory, and not in the hold of whatever building they chose. Misgivings and apprehensions, always alive and well on the topic too close to their chests, to their memories, and he hastened a nod against the brink of the water, listened to the undulations under his skull.
Ludo’s Lantern, facing the dark, and after his discussion with Safrin, the mountain wondered how on earth they were supposed to keep everyone inside, cage/chains aside. “We can try again.” Another thing, another notion, in their preparations. Even if the Spark Bird didn’t arrive, there were still hundreds of other ruminations to consider – the burst of flames a candid reminder of just how quickly things could go south. “I do not want a repeat of last year.” A stern set to his jaw – Rexanna’s impalement, Roana’s gallivanting, Kiada’s failure, crushing blow after crushing blow.
Intriguing to hear that Jigano intended to spend its time with Rory, and not in the hold of whatever building they chose. Misgivings and apprehensions, always alive and well on the topic too close to their chests, to their memories, and he hastened a nod against the brink of the water, listened to the undulations under his skull.
Ludo’s Lantern, facing the dark, and after his discussion with Safrin, the mountain wondered how on earth they were supposed to keep everyone inside, cage/chains aside. “We can try again.” Another thing, another notion, in their preparations. Even if the Spark Bird didn’t arrive, there were still hundreds of other ruminations to consider – the burst of flames a candid reminder of just how quickly things could go south. “I do not want a repeat of last year.” A stern set to his jaw – Rexanna’s impalement, Roana’s gallivanting, Kiada’s failure, crushing blow after crushing blow.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
