DEIMOS
Apprehension and trepidation assailed and loomed in waves, and the Sword did his best to ignore it, to stifle his own down into the rooted armaments, to guard and steel and forge. But his piercing gaze watched, waited, and loomed, a scrutinizing survey that would never quite give way, no matter what sentiments or emotions rankled, before bowing his head once more. A nod was granted towards the soft thanks, and then the corner of his eyes caught the movement and motion of books, of plans, of materials meant to craft. A question spun its way across his tongue, but he only fed it to the granules of silence, attention deviating back to his own task, his own mission, his own internal anguish.
Rexanna’s tale came first; the first side ignited in specks of gold and fire, tiny embers, flickers of flame, and the honing of stilettos, the shuffle of whispers. There were crowns unfolded and cloaks laced, lanced, breaths of stillness and then the breadth of the mountains and its skies. The following began to sketch, began to depict, a score of children, some easily recognizable, discernable, like the twins, though with his favoritism towards Kiada, she loomed larger, brighter than life on a page, on a tapestry, on a reflection of light and wonder.
At some point, Zuriel had come over, rising from beneath the extended awning, silent and stealthy in her own wits and measures, her muzzle on his shoulder, and he nearly lost it all together again – steadying inhales and exhales to cease the rush of onslaughts again. The other man’s voice sauntered along the eaves too, and he barely caught a name. The quiet rumble followed, but he wasn’t certain if he had anything left to give or grant. “Deimos.”
Rexanna’s tale came first; the first side ignited in specks of gold and fire, tiny embers, flickers of flame, and the honing of stilettos, the shuffle of whispers. There were crowns unfolded and cloaks laced, lanced, breaths of stillness and then the breadth of the mountains and its skies. The following began to sketch, began to depict, a score of children, some easily recognizable, discernable, like the twins, though with his favoritism towards Kiada, she loomed larger, brighter than life on a page, on a tapestry, on a reflection of light and wonder.
At some point, Zuriel had come over, rising from beneath the extended awning, silent and stealthy in her own wits and measures, her muzzle on his shoulder, and he nearly lost it all together again – steadying inhales and exhales to cease the rush of onslaughts again. The other man’s voice sauntered along the eaves too, and he barely caught a name. The quiet rumble followed, but he wasn’t certain if he had anything left to give or grant. “Deimos.”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
