DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
His hands dropped the blades of grass, and his fingers began to paint mountains, one summit after the other, outlined before his eyes as they maneuvered in swells against the sky. They rose and rose in peaks and valleys, in aurora forms and vigilant hills, and he smiled into the vacant, vague darkness, the Basin alive before his eyes. Except it really wasn’t – just the clouds, the rocks, the trees, of the Hollowed Grounds, and the earth moving underneath them, constantly changing its tune.
“Then what does she want? People? Souls? Power?” A moment of clarity, before it dissipated again, and his gaze sunk to the ground, to the unicorn before him. “I am too.” Lonely? Greedy? Perhaps both? It didn’t really matter. She hadn’t asked. Nobody really cared.
The Sword felt inclined to take the hand rising towards the heavens, but stopped when the notion caused him to move slightly, and everything felt hazy, foggy, gone. His stare roamed entirely elsewhere then, upon his painted mountains and ethereal ghosts, lost in the footfalls. “Who did you lose?” And because he seemed ready and eager to assist no matter which ailment plagued him, he took another blade of grass and his tiger ears twitched. “Yes. I can try."
Unite and spread the heart apart
