DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Most of the time Deimos was careful; a meticulous individual who thought, orchestrated, and calculated course of events, notions, and motions. The only time he ever reacted strictly on impulse might have been in the alarm or horror of family, friends, and loved ones being obliterated; a sharpening of abhorrence and devastation unfurling without a single hesitation. The grin had meant to be a tease, a way to defuse dramatics and theatrics, but he noticed his warning was taken in full stride. Still a coherent, comprehensible action, even if it spelled out a sense of distrust.
He’d seen many run, stare, and look at him as if he were naught more than a dangerous heathen. An infidel. A monster. In some instances he’d encouraged it, became it. And in other moments it just felt heartbreakingly lonely as the world left him to his isolation.
So his brows furrowed back together, and he applied his efforts to smaller proportions within the outset now, hands lingering in their gilded display while the manifestations of cookery took shape. Sah did take the opportunity presented to entertain as he worked; and so his head tilted a fraction, indicating he was listening.
Though it wasn’t a joke, at least it was a story – something to distract as he laid out the foundations of this oven on the wooden floor. Traditions of flying wolf cubs wasn’t something he thought he’d be hearing today, but nonetheless, he remained intrigued (a brow arching, the very small smile peeking through). A mild chuckle formed in the hollows of his throat at the notion of pettiness, of striking one’s adversaries before they had the opportunity to do so in return. “Did they ever hassle you again?”
He’d seen many run, stare, and look at him as if he were naught more than a dangerous heathen. An infidel. A monster. In some instances he’d encouraged it, became it. And in other moments it just felt heartbreakingly lonely as the world left him to his isolation.
So his brows furrowed back together, and he applied his efforts to smaller proportions within the outset now, hands lingering in their gilded display while the manifestations of cookery took shape. Sah did take the opportunity presented to entertain as he worked; and so his head tilted a fraction, indicating he was listening.
Though it wasn’t a joke, at least it was a story – something to distract as he laid out the foundations of this oven on the wooden floor. Traditions of flying wolf cubs wasn’t something he thought he’d be hearing today, but nonetheless, he remained intrigued (a brow arching, the very small smile peeking through). A mild chuckle formed in the hollows of his throat at the notion of pettiness, of striking one’s adversaries before they had the opportunity to do so in return. “Did they ever hassle you again?”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
