DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Despite Jigano’s long-winded explanation, Deimos was used to listening, to adhering, to patience in the Sage’s speeches. While Jigano continued and persisted, the Sword’s eyes went to the lanterns, concentrating on parameters and particulars, and when everything was finished, advanced towards the table once more. Quietly, painstakingly, he followed through on examples, models, and demonstrations – and began to construct décor for his chosen one – light and fluid particles, much like water, much like ice, tiny, minute droplets meant to represent cascades of showers and snowflakes, enigmatic pulls and twitches of fellow Basiners who’d lost their lives before him, or after, in the great purge of Helovia. He gave no explanation towards the intentions, no announcement, keeping all of the memories for himself, immersed and embedded in his silence all the more.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
