DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
The notion of relaxation, or even rest, very rarely came up in the Sword’s existence. Once, it might have signified repose and ease, when onslaughts were broken, fizzled, diminished, and extinguished – but here, there was always something to fight. In between monsters, sicknesses, heartbreak, leading, training, and the overall suppressing of any and all emotions, there’d been no ample opportunity to unbend, unwind, unfurl. And in some characteristic motion of his entity, he didn’t think he’d deserved it.
Better to run himself into the ground, than to revisit anything and everything.
Except now Hotaru had returned and crowed the same sentiments incessantly, and he’d heard enough of the echoes in Safrin’s ruminations –
And there he was, pouting rather inelegantly, arms crossed, sitting on a chair in the parlor of the spa, a very juvenile, boyish expression indicating he’d rather be anywhere else.
Nose wrinkled at the scents, at the mere thought of giving himself over to tranquility, his stare went to the walls, to the essence, to the air around them. The last time he’d been here had been to help with the building of said operation – establish and ensure the Valkyrie had everything in working order. Maintaining his sulking disposition, he nodded at a few fellow guards vacating the premise, watching as they swung their arms around, joking and gesturing at the world, clearly liberated and bemused, and remained in his waiting prowess – as unyielding as ever.
Better to run himself into the ground, than to revisit anything and everything.
Except now Hotaru had returned and crowed the same sentiments incessantly, and he’d heard enough of the echoes in Safrin’s ruminations –
And there he was, pouting rather inelegantly, arms crossed, sitting on a chair in the parlor of the spa, a very juvenile, boyish expression indicating he’d rather be anywhere else.
Nose wrinkled at the scents, at the mere thought of giving himself over to tranquility, his stare went to the walls, to the essence, to the air around them. The last time he’d been here had been to help with the building of said operation – establish and ensure the Valkyrie had everything in working order. Maintaining his sulking disposition, he nodded at a few fellow guards vacating the premise, watching as they swung their arms around, joking and gesturing at the world, clearly liberated and bemused, and remained in his waiting prowess – as unyielding as ever.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
