i'm tired of the weight of mortality, i want to tear it from my veins
until i bleed silver and gold
“Of course you are. Nobody wants to lose or get lost.” She comments easily, shrugging her pale shoulders as she focuses on the topics they’ve chosen. “I think so. Would you have rather had none of these memories? Nothing good to visit or enjoy while it’s there just because you’re afraid of it going away?” She questions, tilting her head toward him and offering that very same soft smile.
“You are special. And I will make you a mud mask.” It’s said matter of factly once again, leaving no room for him to argue as they absorb the warmth of the water and Deimos begins to break again beside her. She tries to offer as much warmth as she can, but as a memory of his, she’s unsure how far it stretches and reaches.
So instead, she turns to him as he falls apart, arms wrapping around him and pulling him into her so she might cradle him, might let him cry as long as he needed. “You can. And you will.” She says softly, wet hands moving up to stroke through long dark hair. “Kiada would want that. I want that.” She murmurs softly, a smile on her face, holding him tight. “There are many that want you around, you just don’t let yourself see it. And then when they’re gone you haven’t had enough time.” It’s a quiet observation. “So open up, let them in, enjoy them while they’re here. Death gets us all in the end. It’s a race that we never win. Stop to enjoy the flowers in between them, alright?”
“You are special. And I will make you a mud mask.” It’s said matter of factly once again, leaving no room for him to argue as they absorb the warmth of the water and Deimos begins to break again beside her. She tries to offer as much warmth as she can, but as a memory of his, she’s unsure how far it stretches and reaches.
So instead, she turns to him as he falls apart, arms wrapping around him and pulling him into her so she might cradle him, might let him cry as long as he needed. “You can. And you will.” She says softly, wet hands moving up to stroke through long dark hair. “Kiada would want that. I want that.” She murmurs softly, a smile on her face, holding him tight. “There are many that want you around, you just don’t let yourself see it. And then when they’re gone you haven’t had enough time.” It’s a quiet observation. “So open up, let them in, enjoy them while they’re here. Death gets us all in the end. It’s a race that we never win. Stop to enjoy the flowers in between them, alright?”
maybe one day they'll chant our names
and name galaxies after us, and we too shall be eternal
REXANNA
