DEIMOS
The challenge taken, the gauntlet raised, and he could give into antics, folly, and amusements, rather than the tidal waves of daunting trials and heartache. Another short, abrupt laugh kindled through, and for once he was content in not adhering to someone’s goading – taking his time, angling and righting himself until he was at the very last step.
It was a towering precipice, but not reaching, reaching, reaching for the sky. Just there, hanging in between, hovering over valleys, over meadows, over thickets. Perhaps someone once surveyed their domain, their kingdom, from the rocky ramparts. Perhaps no one did anything at all. It felt mortal, human, and transfigured.
Poignant, strange, and odd.
The Sword stilled, and then launched. It was a controlled movement and motion, wings unfurling, sienna plumage rising to the forefront – and then descending in rapid volley, a swift shift, a steady turn, until it looked like he might crash and burn into the ground.
Only to rise on a gust of air, following the bat’s tracks of flight. Content, bemused, stretching out into the expanse, unknown and foreign and enigmatic. Wanting it all.
Those raptorial eyes still caught the movements of blink hares and the bizarre mice down below – the predator predilections, the carnivore indications, too great. Shall we hunt? His nod, his head, indicating the prey scurrying amongst wildflowers and grass.
It was a towering precipice, but not reaching, reaching, reaching for the sky. Just there, hanging in between, hovering over valleys, over meadows, over thickets. Perhaps someone once surveyed their domain, their kingdom, from the rocky ramparts. Perhaps no one did anything at all. It felt mortal, human, and transfigured.
Poignant, strange, and odd.
The Sword stilled, and then launched. It was a controlled movement and motion, wings unfurling, sienna plumage rising to the forefront – and then descending in rapid volley, a swift shift, a steady turn, until it looked like he might crash and burn into the ground.
Only to rise on a gust of air, following the bat’s tracks of flight. Content, bemused, stretching out into the expanse, unknown and foreign and enigmatic. Wanting it all.
Those raptorial eyes still caught the movements of blink hares and the bizarre mice down below – the predator predilections, the carnivore indications, too great. Shall we hunt? His nod, his head, indicating the prey scurrying amongst wildflowers and grass.
gatekeeper of an endless war
where lines between right and wrong
don't exist anymore
