Rage, maybe rage would lift me up
Another dive, another reach, another stretch of fangs and speed, and he barreled swiftly into a rush of frenzied schools, scooping, snagging, feeling them twist and turn between his teeth. The fight was always futile, and he’d rise to the surface, to the basket he’d already partially filled, sliding across the rock and dropping his latest catch. Then back into the fathoms, where he might find some comfort in the simplicity – no one striking him down, no one breaking him apart, no one asking, no one questioning, no one becoming a ghost before his eyes.
A shadow broke over the vestiges, and he glanced up through the watery edges and veneer, to see a draconic figure. An inherent, instinctual pulse nearly sent him diving further, not to bother the beast, not to contort into fathoms he couldn’t possibly chase – except, upon breeching, his head resting along the glassy, wavy fixtures, he found he recognized this one.
In caves, while searching for lilies, while fighting off gore crows, while struggling to find ways to move forward. He should’ve known, and he nearly snorted, holding it back for a tether, a line, between attuned measures. Sunjata? And maybe he was wrong, and the call would remain unheeded, the impressions lost, the situation wrong.
A shadow broke over the vestiges, and he glanced up through the watery edges and veneer, to see a draconic figure. An inherent, instinctual pulse nearly sent him diving further, not to bother the beast, not to contort into fathoms he couldn’t possibly chase – except, upon breeching, his head resting along the glassy, wavy fixtures, he found he recognized this one.
In caves, while searching for lilies, while fighting off gore crows, while struggling to find ways to move forward. He should’ve known, and he nearly snorted, holding it back for a tether, a line, between attuned measures. Sunjata? And maybe he was wrong, and the call would remain unheeded, the impressions lost, the situation wrong.
DEIMOS
