DEIMOS
Dim, dismal, bleak – hues blending into murky overtones – had it always been this way? Had it been so colorless and discarded, distorted and desolate? Or had all of the beings, the pieces, the existences, let it be varnished and lacquered in something beyond gray and lifeless? Was it lesser now, because he didn’t know what else to feel? Just anguish? Despair? His feet staggered, limbs wild, like they’d forgotten how to exert themselves, hands reeling back to the table, palms planted downward on the surface, another rush of breath, ending in a feral gasp. He shook his head but then the world started spinning again.
“What am I supposed to do?” A murmur, a quiet, pleading, grasping, gnarled rumble down the back of his throat. He didn’t want any water because he might be tempted to drown himself in it, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t process, how to move beyond the reeling agony collected and stored, rising over the surface as he attempted to meander over to the wall. His eyes stirred along the edges of the room, striving to maintain focus, before sliding over her once more – light in darkness. “No. I have to go to Halo.”
A nod of certainty, as if answering his own inquiry – swallowing down the bile coating his teeth, his enamel, any semblance of ichor still beating, still pulsing, still pervading through his frame. “Chulane has to know.” Another being to ruin and damage on their illustrious falls; so utterly incapable, no matter what they did.
“What am I supposed to do?” A murmur, a quiet, pleading, grasping, gnarled rumble down the back of his throat. He didn’t want any water because he might be tempted to drown himself in it, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t process, how to move beyond the reeling agony collected and stored, rising over the surface as he attempted to meander over to the wall. His eyes stirred along the edges of the room, striving to maintain focus, before sliding over her once more – light in darkness. “No. I have to go to Halo.”
A nod of certainty, as if answering his own inquiry – swallowing down the bile coating his teeth, his enamel, any semblance of ichor still beating, still pulsing, still pervading through his frame. “Chulane has to know.” Another being to ruin and damage on their illustrious falls; so utterly incapable, no matter what they did.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
