Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Oh, Deimos wouldn’t have needed to see Amalia in a wedding dress to know her soul, to understand her heart, to fathom the reaches of her perseverance, her convictions, her strength, and everything else laden in between. But he knew he was lucky, fortunate, perhaps for one of the few times in his life, to be a part, a figment, a fragment in her orbit. It was a reverent, awe-inspiring thing, to be loved and to love in return, and though he wouldn’t wax poetical on it in Weaver’s presence, or frankly anyone else’s, the honor still resided in the once-withered, decayed contortions of his embittered heart.
At the tease he laughed again, eyes going to the deepening skyline, to the signals of a day’s end. “I am certain you will be happy to discover them for yourself.” No revealing of choices, of décor, of frosting, of flavors; never a beast to give away anything unless he wanted to. If it was mischievous, impish, and slightly infidel-inclined, he’d only shrug his shoulders, no sense of denial in the sentiments.
But such would be the way of things, more and more surprises before Deepfrost settled, before portals were closed. “I will leave you be. Keep practicing. You can show me how far you have come after winter.” When spring came, when Flowerbirth was session, when the looming damnation of LongNight had ceased searing and smothering. “See you at the reception.” A promise and conviction, before waving, and wandering back the way he’d come.
At the tease he laughed again, eyes going to the deepening skyline, to the signals of a day’s end. “I am certain you will be happy to discover them for yourself.” No revealing of choices, of décor, of frosting, of flavors; never a beast to give away anything unless he wanted to. If it was mischievous, impish, and slightly infidel-inclined, he’d only shrug his shoulders, no sense of denial in the sentiments.
But such would be the way of things, more and more surprises before Deepfrost settled, before portals were closed. “I will leave you be. Keep practicing. You can show me how far you have come after winter.” When spring came, when Flowerbirth was session, when the looming damnation of LongNight had ceased searing and smothering. “See you at the reception.” A promise and conviction, before waving, and wandering back the way he’d come.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
