like salt in the sea

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame A child who would never know their mother clawed at his insides, and he instinctively flinched, withdrew, held himself precariously, dangling over an edge. He didn’t quite understand the level of growth Bastien seemed to hint at, recalling the youth only as a newborn, as someone who’d needed toys only seasons before, so he could only arch a brow, the consideration, the questions, dying on his tongue. The beast’s head lowered, stilling and stealing breaths, suddenly uncertain if he was ready for any of this. Then his wares were up for inspection, so he swallowed down the bile, nodding, wondering if they would even be up a particular standard. He dropped his satchel to the floor, opening up the bag of holding, and tracing over each filament, before lifting them, and placing them along the nearest table. The first was a gilded dagger, brandished and serrated in gold, highlighting a world long since passed but heavy in his heart nonetheless, one of the few to remain. Embedded along the sides was an obvious firework, the hilt rendered into a beatific burst. The second was a tiny mountain sculpture, with streaks of blue, lavender, and pink; colors to represent auroras, horizons once so clearly displayed amongst summit heavens. And then there was a figure of an eclipse, and though not blinding, it was meant to depict so much more – He stepped back and away, for Bastien to survey, scan, eyes glancing over to the corner. Apprehension instilled once more at the artist’s suggestion; that his magic would have no place here, that it could only be instilled by hand, by craftmanship. He comprehended the implications, the reasons, the notions behind it all, but could only wonder if his efforts would be enough. If it would honor Rexanna. If it would do her any justice at all. “I understand. I will do my best.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace