DEIMOS
There’d been times where he merely lived in the cold in every aspect of his life. Ensconced in his chosen elements, chilled to the bone, so nonchalant, so apathetic, so indifferent to the plights of the earth, save for the mountains he stood within, and ruled with forged strength and seditious motions. Unrelenting, ruthless, conniving; all of it still buried in his figure, still there, still thriving in the blackened regions of a Stygian heart – but he’d been saved too, altered, molded, carved away at the frigid, impassive seams by those like Aisha. Who accepted, who tolerated, who knew exactly what he was, how hard he tried, and what it took for him to stand, to fight, to wage onward, after onslaughts, after traumas, after constant, burdening, bludgeoning anguish. It would’ve been so easy to turn back into the Reaper, into the callous, Laodicean nightmare – if he wasn’t surrounded and taken in by friends, by a found family, rather than the ones long since gone.And he was never certain if he expressed his gratitude enough; save for a warm chuckle, exuding puffs of air to circulate into the ivory juncture before them – curling in fumes, in the realms of simply being alive. “It will be worse in Deepfrost,” he teased – but eyes were alight on the world, at the figments of worlds before and now worlds after.
He led and traversed, blending and bending, cast into the abyss with little fanfare, marking their way towards the Citadel in massive strides and barely-noted footprints, the hardened snow forgetting their imprints. At the mention of meeting any, the grin fell away, coming to a familiar tether of his furrowed brows, rigid, contorted, controlling breathing. “Just the dragons.” A pause, wondering how deep he should go into the tale, if reliving the foolishness, the stupidity, and then the rampant death would be a highlight on the trail. “A group of us went to retrieve a dragon’s heart. It was needed to rebuild the shrine in the Temple.” His gaze flickered back to the rising town, closer and closer as they walked and tread. “It did not go well.”
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
