DEIMOS
I’m good rebounded, she was alive and well and whole, and that was far better than the Sword had ever expected coming out of LongNight’s hell. So with one last tight squeeze, he released her back down to the soil, the earth, the ground, relinquishing her if she wished for it. The question thereafter, where reality had to set in at claw its talons down his spine, across his back, upon his neck, curl and coil and contort like the dreaded noose, made him falter, stare off into the distance. It was a measure to compose himself, instead of drowning under the wake of the impending anguish, instead of feeling the tightening ropes, instead of heading straight into disaster.
But maybe that was all they ever did.
“Not well,” he started, and while he would’ve normally bit into the curiosity of Halo’s events, of the letters he’d read over and over and over again, the more pending news had to arrive first. He shifted his gaze to look upon her, to search her stare, committing it to memory, before some predilection of hatred, of wrath, of contempt appeared, glared back at him. “The door protected us from monsters, but it had similar effects on Ascended.” The monolith should’ve known, should’ve understood, the measures and calculations behind it – but he’d been so damned hellbent on protecting everyone in their clustered threshold, that he hadn’t estimated, predicted, this outcome. Rexanna hadn’t survived his measures. “Your mother went out on LongNight, with another Ascended boy.” One of the others had said Clem, and the youth was a brief recollection in his mind – all of his agony reserved for the Penumbra, for Thieves who could no longer wield their daggers, or snag information underneath cloaks. “They came back, and must have touched the door -,” a sharp inhale followed, because he hadn’t seen, he hadn’t known, could only surmise final, disastrous moments. “When I opened it, they had already perished.”
And now what? A thousand apologies? A multitude of regrets? A lifetime of redemption, for things he couldn’t fix? They might be able to gain her soul back, but never her form, her existence, her presence, on this corporeal plain. The burden weighed down on his shoulders, the sorrow glimpsed through any angle of his poorly-wrought mask, and all he could do was stand in wait.
But maybe that was all they ever did.
“Not well,” he started, and while he would’ve normally bit into the curiosity of Halo’s events, of the letters he’d read over and over and over again, the more pending news had to arrive first. He shifted his gaze to look upon her, to search her stare, committing it to memory, before some predilection of hatred, of wrath, of contempt appeared, glared back at him. “The door protected us from monsters, but it had similar effects on Ascended.” The monolith should’ve known, should’ve understood, the measures and calculations behind it – but he’d been so damned hellbent on protecting everyone in their clustered threshold, that he hadn’t estimated, predicted, this outcome. Rexanna hadn’t survived his measures. “Your mother went out on LongNight, with another Ascended boy.” One of the others had said Clem, and the youth was a brief recollection in his mind – all of his agony reserved for the Penumbra, for Thieves who could no longer wield their daggers, or snag information underneath cloaks. “They came back, and must have touched the door -,” a sharp inhale followed, because he hadn’t seen, he hadn’t known, could only surmise final, disastrous moments. “When I opened it, they had already perished.”
And now what? A thousand apologies? A multitude of regrets? A lifetime of redemption, for things he couldn’t fix? They might be able to gain her soul back, but never her form, her existence, her presence, on this corporeal plain. The burden weighed down on his shoulders, the sorrow glimpsed through any angle of his poorly-wrought mask, and all he could do was stand in wait.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
