DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Perhaps the Flood lived in a world of transitory delusions. Actions and actions and actions without consequences, momentary, and never long enough to matter. From one ruin to the next, no moments to breathe, no seconds or instances to reflect before he instigated more damage. He’d managed to lay waste to people, to places, and to relationships with such an incredible ease, that the Sword was constantly baffled why so many flocked to him. What was charming about the way he devastated others? About how he used and battered around? About how single thoughts entered his brain, and then left an instant later? Maybe they were far too different to ever be understood – and Deimos would've been fine with that, if Hotaru hadn’t been involved.
But she’d known too. And still meandered and sauntered her way into the life of an unrelenting moron. As if things would’ve changed. As if things would’ve been different. The monolith was half-tempted to mutter and utter the notions, but kept them locked and tethered away, behind his teeth, in his mullings and musings. She would’ve had a multitude of “I told you so’s” for him as well.
So Deimos could comfort instead in the best way he knew how. To offer reality. To dig into the void, pull her out of the abyss, and let them settle in there, ruminate in between the hurt and the chaos. Figure out the next steps. Where she wanted to be. What she wanted to do. Extend something not out of anguish or despair, but the candor and sincerity of a friend. Her words lingered against his chest and he shook his head, ensuring his jaw still rested on top of hers like a beastly crown. “It will be like nothing changed.” Astounding and bewildering – and maybe others admired that kind of selfish, egocentric compassion and love – but he’d never be one of them. Let Nate and Sunjata be drawn into their stupefying haze, chaotically distort and contort about their own lives, and cease to drag everyone else down with them. “But you do not need to be in that wreckage.” It sounded not only painful, but exhausting, overwhelming, overbearing, to awaken each day and wonder what next set of tribulations a single idiot would descend and throw upon the world. They’d all had their fair share of mistakes and disasters, but Sunjata seemed to openly invite them.
She took his hand and he allowed it, softening a sigh bombarding through his chest. “We tried.” For a moment his voice sounded mildly defeated – as if it was always going to end up the same way as before, nothing and love and then nothing again – but the sad inklings of a smile corded around his mouth, where she couldn’t see. “We have Kiada too.”
The Harpy was not to be forgotten, though he wasn’t sure what was going to occur, not with the ominous weight of the horizons. “Which could be another eventual dilemma.”
But she’d known too. And still meandered and sauntered her way into the life of an unrelenting moron. As if things would’ve changed. As if things would’ve been different. The monolith was half-tempted to mutter and utter the notions, but kept them locked and tethered away, behind his teeth, in his mullings and musings. She would’ve had a multitude of “I told you so’s” for him as well.
So Deimos could comfort instead in the best way he knew how. To offer reality. To dig into the void, pull her out of the abyss, and let them settle in there, ruminate in between the hurt and the chaos. Figure out the next steps. Where she wanted to be. What she wanted to do. Extend something not out of anguish or despair, but the candor and sincerity of a friend. Her words lingered against his chest and he shook his head, ensuring his jaw still rested on top of hers like a beastly crown. “It will be like nothing changed.” Astounding and bewildering – and maybe others admired that kind of selfish, egocentric compassion and love – but he’d never be one of them. Let Nate and Sunjata be drawn into their stupefying haze, chaotically distort and contort about their own lives, and cease to drag everyone else down with them. “But you do not need to be in that wreckage.” It sounded not only painful, but exhausting, overwhelming, overbearing, to awaken each day and wonder what next set of tribulations a single idiot would descend and throw upon the world. They’d all had their fair share of mistakes and disasters, but Sunjata seemed to openly invite them.
She took his hand and he allowed it, softening a sigh bombarding through his chest. “We tried.” For a moment his voice sounded mildly defeated – as if it was always going to end up the same way as before, nothing and love and then nothing again – but the sad inklings of a smile corded around his mouth, where she couldn’t see. “We have Kiada too.”
The Harpy was not to be forgotten, though he wasn’t sure what was going to occur, not with the ominous weight of the horizons. “Which could be another eventual dilemma.”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
