i wonder which will get you killed faster - your loyalty
The Sword waited – a breath held, stifled, controlled in the midst of his lungs – because he couldn’t quite take any more agonizing news. The rebuilding, the restructuring, the healing, still stood on shaky ground; a fracture, a fissure, could take and whittle him apart again. It’d be so easy. Whatever the monolith expected to follow, it hadn’t been laughter, and his eyes widened once more as she broke apart into giggles. He leaned back along his crouch, sighing, shaking his head, hoping she didn’t notice the trembling in his hands. She wouldn’t be able to feel the aspects of apprehension, the repose of relief, the flickers of frustration, the echoes of exhaustion. And he’d mask it all over again, tuck it away, away, away, extending that heavy breath back into the evening, where it billowed and curled, pooled and sank.
“Okay,” he reverberated and echoed, extending a hand that didn’t shake, a quiet, derisive control compelling over his sanction. His face might have disclosed his agony anyway; the aftermath of so many other lethal days and wounds. Of how many others he’d faced, of how many times he’d drifted to the sides of those who wouldn’t get back up again.
Then it was gone. Like it never happened. He didn’t laugh.
Zuriel pulled on his furs and he ignored it, calming his thunderous heart, the aching, pounding rhythm in his chest that said far more of the beast and his burdens. Once he’d attempted to pull Kiada to her feet, he backed away, towards the wall again, but back to the sloping sides. “We can walk up instead.” Then he persisted in its steep incline, waging his strength and rancor into the packed snow, treading after a multitude of other footprints, warring away the emotions threatening to burrow and bury again.
“Okay,” he reverberated and echoed, extending a hand that didn’t shake, a quiet, derisive control compelling over his sanction. His face might have disclosed his agony anyway; the aftermath of so many other lethal days and wounds. Of how many others he’d faced, of how many times he’d drifted to the sides of those who wouldn’t get back up again.
Then it was gone. Like it never happened. He didn’t laugh.
Zuriel pulled on his furs and he ignored it, calming his thunderous heart, the aching, pounding rhythm in his chest that said far more of the beast and his burdens. Once he’d attempted to pull Kiada to her feet, he backed away, towards the wall again, but back to the sloping sides. “We can walk up instead.” Then he persisted in its steep incline, waging his strength and rancor into the packed snow, treading after a multitude of other footprints, warring away the emotions threatening to burrow and bury again.
or your stubbornness?
DEIMOS
