DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
They give and take, an ardent and defiant ritual, claiming one another, grasping, having, and holding. It was rapture, and bliss, and reverential things the Sword, the Reaper, never thought, never would’ve believed, he’d ever have, and he’d willingly chase it for eternity, to the ends of the earth. Hers and his, intertwined and committed, naught quite altering except titles – husband, wife, and ceremonial convictions.
Only when they pulled away did he breathe, and laugh, and echo the passion, the ardor, hands interlocked, a rapid inhale, exhale, surveying, admiring, staring at what he had, cherishing every moment and motion.
Safrin’s proclamation pulled him out of the reverie for an instant, another quiet, awed breath pulsing through the wind as stars pulsed, as breezes pervaded, as the world swayed and chimed. He turned back to the goddess, his grin wide and apparent, a rarity, save for in these monumental moments. “Thank you for everything. Best ceremony I ever attended.” A jocular motion in juvenile antics, but his spirit was free and wild and happy, not mentioning his bias in the latter comment. Even more praise followed, perhaps the first he’d ever extended to her – but it was owed and due, and he could fathom, understand that now. “You have truly outdone yourself.”
Then he turned, and his puncturing gaze was for Amalia, and only Amalia, waiting for her cue, for whatever came next – another step anew.
Only when they pulled away did he breathe, and laugh, and echo the passion, the ardor, hands interlocked, a rapid inhale, exhale, surveying, admiring, staring at what he had, cherishing every moment and motion.
Safrin’s proclamation pulled him out of the reverie for an instant, another quiet, awed breath pulsing through the wind as stars pulsed, as breezes pervaded, as the world swayed and chimed. He turned back to the goddess, his grin wide and apparent, a rarity, save for in these monumental moments. “Thank you for everything. Best ceremony I ever attended.” A jocular motion in juvenile antics, but his spirit was free and wild and happy, not mentioning his bias in the latter comment. Even more praise followed, perhaps the first he’d ever extended to her – but it was owed and due, and he could fathom, understand that now. “You have truly outdone yourself.”
Then he turned, and his puncturing gaze was for Amalia, and only Amalia, waiting for her cue, for whatever came next – another step anew.
I belong to you
the way the moon belongs to the stars
the way the moon belongs to the stars
