i wonder which will get you killed faster - your loyalty
He waited; not like the predator, not like all the beasts lurking in the midst of his soul, but as the dutiful, vigilant expanse, watching as the anxiety pooled, quelled, and then diminished, slightly, the steel finding its way back home. Deimos hadn’t gained these misgivings upon his own resurrection (scores of others would find their way in though); loved and lost all over again, patterns and familiarity to the weight of the world, to the lengths of his sojourns, to the calamities wrought once more. The release of her particular burden, of these singular worries and apprehensions, could only come from Chulane. The Sword would be here regardless, an eternal promise, a vow, an assurance, he could mend and meld with little fanfare – just the way it’d always been. A rock, a stone, a boulder, a monolith, a mountain.
Then she was before him, requiring the safety and sanctity he’d proffered, and the beast opened his arms, wrapped her in his embrace. Real, tangible, whole, even if she was cold; a conviction for himself too, needed and required just as much. She wasn’t going anywhere right now, save for out into the evening to discuss matters with Chulane. She wasn’t dead. And that had to be enough. He’d ask no more of her.
Tucking her into his shoulder, where brawn and formidability rested, his chest rumbled, voice extending a distraction, a deterrent, away from the anxieties. “Would you like to see the rest of the barracks? We fixed them up.” Or would that be too much as well – reminders of days not spent like this, but within the Grounds, their lives whole, not so pierced, not so punctured, not so damaged?
Then she was before him, requiring the safety and sanctity he’d proffered, and the beast opened his arms, wrapped her in his embrace. Real, tangible, whole, even if she was cold; a conviction for himself too, needed and required just as much. She wasn’t going anywhere right now, save for out into the evening to discuss matters with Chulane. She wasn’t dead. And that had to be enough. He’d ask no more of her.
Tucking her into his shoulder, where brawn and formidability rested, his chest rumbled, voice extending a distraction, a deterrent, away from the anxieties. “Would you like to see the rest of the barracks? We fixed them up.” Or would that be too much as well – reminders of days not spent like this, but within the Grounds, their lives whole, not so pierced, not so punctured, not so damaged?
or your stubbornness?
DEIMOS
