Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Deimos and his family, his friends, his comrades, had been maligned too many times in too many circumstances to ever give or grant secrets away. They were embedded in his bones and placed within his sinew, muscle, and flesh, and never rendered from his mouth. Truth and veracity unwound from the latter, and only when necessary, a heavier weight and meaning to their discourse. He was open to his select few, those chosen by experiences and trust, by merit, grit, determination, and tenacity lining in their veins. He snorted at her thoughts though, a warmer chuckle brimming over the surface, while his elements rampaged, while she added hers to the seething, simmering collection and fortitude. His deep tones only unraveled the semblance of what he’d encountered here: tribulation after tribulation, as the world branched apart and flung in portals, as it opened and bridged gaps, as it traversed into winter factions and ocean conflagrations. Their curiosities always seemed to instill hostility from the opposing ends; circumstances with the Fae at the forefront of his mind, much like hungry, rapacious cannibals, or unknown dragon contortions in the summit regions. “Likely more trials. Perhaps they will be worth it.” An arch to his brow, meant to be humorous, before pulling the water and fire apart, allowing them to sear and bristle in opposite directions, as if they meant to collide with one another head-on.
He didn’t expect her question though – and the piercing slate of his eyes wandered directly back to the draconic forms, jaw tightening, clenching. “They are gone.” Dead, slain, twice now, if reincarnations and redistribution of his soul was meant to be obliged: losing them all again and again, the patterns and cycles of his losses, of his melancholy, of his sorrows never alleviating. Those stuck, thorned, and nettled, no matter which path he walked upon. So he’d tucked himself away until there’d been some willing to embark and traverse through his felled footholds, his ramparts and fortifications; trust instilled, honored, and granted in return. “Hence why my friends and loved ones fill that void.” Otherwise he’d be just as alone, just as brooding, just as cornered in shadow, at home in the darkness once more.
He didn’t expect her question though – and the piercing slate of his eyes wandered directly back to the draconic forms, jaw tightening, clenching. “They are gone.” Dead, slain, twice now, if reincarnations and redistribution of his soul was meant to be obliged: losing them all again and again, the patterns and cycles of his losses, of his melancholy, of his sorrows never alleviating. Those stuck, thorned, and nettled, no matter which path he walked upon. So he’d tucked himself away until there’d been some willing to embark and traverse through his felled footholds, his ramparts and fortifications; trust instilled, honored, and granted in return. “Hence why my friends and loved ones fill that void.” Otherwise he’d be just as alone, just as brooding, just as cornered in shadow, at home in the darkness once more.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
