i wonder which will get you killed faster - your loyalty
He watched as her skin changed, altered, the sheen of armor, of metallic structures bent and coiled over flesh. Something tugged at his heart, and he didn’t know how or what to name it – something akin to sadness, to pieces and portions he never thought she’d be. It wasn’t right to hold them in his chest, over scars and enamel, over lungs and ribs, but he wouldn’t extend it out into the open, where it wasn’t wanted, where it wasn’t needed, where everything still seemed like such a mess. Could he be grateful for her existence, and still confused, conflicted, by how she’d become anew again? And was that how things would always be now? Acceptance, acceptance, acceptance, but with the pang of other nuances and notions? With the ominous, foreboding twist and turns of the future sticking, clawing, at his veins? At their voids?
And the Sword didn’t know what to say to the Harpy, not now, not when the fringes were so very open and fragile. The puncturing slate of his eyes went to the silvern structure once more, and the monolith nodded, an understanding (if it was even that), the uncertainty threatening to wrap around his throat and suffocate his soul. “Do you like it?” Was all he could fathom and formulate as they began to stride down the hall; because maybe that was all that mattered. Her perception. It was her figure. Her soul. Her presence. And perhaps his thoughts on it didn’t really hold any weight. Any merit. Anything at all.
He maneuvered out of her way, permitted her an opportunity to survey the wide-open expanse – the cloak of evening not dispelling the edges and fringes of its massive undertaking, of its prowess, of its potential. There might’ve been a segment of pride looming in his half-smile, but he wasn’t an arrogant entity, so it didn’t rest there long. Beneath the flicker of fires, of the braziers, the reflection of targets silhouetted against the snow and stone, the marble countenance of where they lunged and fought, of where they endured and persisted, where they chose to amplify mettle and grit. “It had taken a heavy hit from last Deepfrost. Took some time to fix it up.” The climbing wall, a massive sheet of ice rounded at the edges for multiple purposes (to run up and down its slope, while others amplified muscle strength and fortitude from scaling the other side), stood stalwart on the outer fringes, with everything else nestled in between. “Hopefully the efforts will be worthwhile.”
And the Sword didn’t know what to say to the Harpy, not now, not when the fringes were so very open and fragile. The puncturing slate of his eyes went to the silvern structure once more, and the monolith nodded, an understanding (if it was even that), the uncertainty threatening to wrap around his throat and suffocate his soul. “Do you like it?” Was all he could fathom and formulate as they began to stride down the hall; because maybe that was all that mattered. Her perception. It was her figure. Her soul. Her presence. And perhaps his thoughts on it didn’t really hold any weight. Any merit. Anything at all.
He maneuvered out of her way, permitted her an opportunity to survey the wide-open expanse – the cloak of evening not dispelling the edges and fringes of its massive undertaking, of its prowess, of its potential. There might’ve been a segment of pride looming in his half-smile, but he wasn’t an arrogant entity, so it didn’t rest there long. Beneath the flicker of fires, of the braziers, the reflection of targets silhouetted against the snow and stone, the marble countenance of where they lunged and fought, of where they endured and persisted, where they chose to amplify mettle and grit. “It had taken a heavy hit from last Deepfrost. Took some time to fix it up.” The climbing wall, a massive sheet of ice rounded at the edges for multiple purposes (to run up and down its slope, while others amplified muscle strength and fortitude from scaling the other side), stood stalwart on the outer fringes, with everything else nestled in between. “Hopefully the efforts will be worthwhile.”
or your stubbornness?
DEIMOS
