DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
They’d always known how to insinuate chaos, bedlam, and mayhem, a few turns of revolution, sedition, and insurrection, undermine and plot, scheme into diabolical regimes, come out the other side with bruises and maelstroms at their back. But happiness had been fleeting; one of those things they’d had to grasp firmly, and maybe never quite understand or dive fully into. Rexanna had left them behind and strived with the monolithic Edge King, and Deimos found the rain and couldn’t hang on tight enough to the cascades, to the drops, to the ripples, twisted and turned himself right back into demolition and devastation. It never stayed. It never stuck.
Perhaps they’d both learned their lessons then; new discoveries, new aspects, new people without the barrage of damnation hanging over their shoulders. Blessed and graced and consecrated with beginnings that startled and surprised, that bewildered and befuddled, away, away, and away from soulless platitudes. It was strange and bizarre, every moment he thought about it, to find themselves (especially him) loved and cherished, instead of hated and reviled.
She withdrew, likely understanding he could only handle so much affection, lifting his gaze back to her, away from floors and other things. Weddings instead; and he permitted another warm chuckle to stoke in between the fibers of their ways, how worlds and kingdoms had molded and contorted. “Yes. Before the season ends.” Another little smile for her rested on his lips. “You and Bastien are more than welcome to attend the reception.” A celebration before everything churned over into something else, with the loom and dread of Deepfrost hovering in the midst.
Unite and spread the heart apart
