DEIMOS
The Sword didn’t have to ask his fellow shield if she was feeling better, or if the curse had lifted. The ebullience and exuberance instilled through the bond hinted at a fortitude of normalcy, at a trust to her flame-touched whims, to her affable nature. With the subject of the frailties out of the way, they left the others behind, scraping over broken, splintered, and fractured earth, until it changed and shifted to green.
He couldn’t remember a world so fertile, so rich, so ignited and alight with hues since Helovia. With no access from humans, as far as one could tell, it must’ve permitted and allowed the lands to ignite with their beatific fervor, growing, unheeded, unbroken, unbothered, by a group of inepts’ hands. What would come of their rampant explorations then? Would someone want to render it their own? Would someone yearn to claim it?
Or would it be left to its own devices, the law of the land dictating its martial accordance?
The last thought would’ve hastened a smile, had he not been in eagle form. Perhaps the mere notions would slide through anyway. He stretched and spread the magnificent plumage, felt the rays of the sun striking across their regal expanse, and didn’t want to cease. Didn’t want to give in to the feel of the earth. The sharpened juncture of his piercing gaze slid over the stones, the staircase towards the sky, as he flew around and around and around, descending, then soaring back. Neither have I he murmured, quiet and humble. But the segment of his curiosity now leant into the rocks, into the carefully carved nuances, into the way they hastened towards heavens, and then ceased entirely. What would this be for? Maybe they were both too foreign, too Outlander inclined, to understand.
He couldn’t remember a world so fertile, so rich, so ignited and alight with hues since Helovia. With no access from humans, as far as one could tell, it must’ve permitted and allowed the lands to ignite with their beatific fervor, growing, unheeded, unbroken, unbothered, by a group of inepts’ hands. What would come of their rampant explorations then? Would someone want to render it their own? Would someone yearn to claim it?
Or would it be left to its own devices, the law of the land dictating its martial accordance?
The last thought would’ve hastened a smile, had he not been in eagle form. Perhaps the mere notions would slide through anyway. He stretched and spread the magnificent plumage, felt the rays of the sun striking across their regal expanse, and didn’t want to cease. Didn’t want to give in to the feel of the earth. The sharpened juncture of his piercing gaze slid over the stones, the staircase towards the sky, as he flew around and around and around, descending, then soaring back. Neither have I he murmured, quiet and humble. But the segment of his curiosity now leant into the rocks, into the carefully carved nuances, into the way they hastened towards heavens, and then ceased entirely. What would this be for? Maybe they were both too foreign, too Outlander inclined, to understand.
gatekeeper of an endless war
where lines between right and wrong
don't exist anymore
