DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Her answer wasn’t empty, even in the aspects of its uncertainty. It spoke volumes of how lives flickered and seethed here, brutalized and maimed, and only being left to pick up the pieces. She wouldn’t want his advice – not from a monolith who only knew how to either sink into the depths of his sorrows and wait to be consumed, or to pretend they didn’t exist in the first place, leaving them completely unaddressed until they choked him from the inside out. They made their opposing shelters behind a variety of walls, and while his were mountainous, high, and rampant, Hotaru’s were far more hidden, protected, veiled, and shrouded. His features were a mask, and the Valkyrie had perfected hers for sabotage, melees, trickery, and deceit. But neither were reputable or helpful in these circumstances, where people they loved and trusted maimed anyway.
Deimos regarded it simply. One erased those demons from their life. He wasn’t sure if Hotaru could, or would, even in the midst of promises. Even if she tried. Was it like a gangrenous limb, meant to be cut and hacked away? Or were the wounds just far deeper than that?
He sighed, tilting his head, pondering while she took hold of his calloused palm. He stifled a laugh at the ticklish nature suddenly adorning his skin, contemplating the best options. The best endeavors. “You have something to build again.” The spa, the hot springs, clientele, capable of exploiting her talents across Caido, rather than just tending to the hunters and defenders of Halo. “You have us.” The Sword, the Harpy, and whoever else she managed to snag into her fold. “And if you would like, we can put their faces on some targets in the barracks.” A cheeky grin followed, as if this was the best option. “I have one of Confutatis there. It is very cathartic to rip her apart.” Did he repaint it each time to look uglier? Possibly. But he’d never hid his pettiness.
Then he was released, and the monolith was free to finally sit up. It took him a moment to bask in the stillness, in the repose, in the triumph of his form being completely unburdened – a liberation, a freedom, he couldn’t recall having last. Arms raised over his head in a long extension, and then his legs did the same towards the floor, enjoying, rejoicing, in the culmination of her efforts. Eventually, he rid himself of the table too, flickering down to the ground with catlike assertions, ignoring the way she seemed very content and smug. He’d permit it. Reaching behind his crown to unwind his hair back down, his gaze flickered back over to her. “Stretches?”
Deimos regarded it simply. One erased those demons from their life. He wasn’t sure if Hotaru could, or would, even in the midst of promises. Even if she tried. Was it like a gangrenous limb, meant to be cut and hacked away? Or were the wounds just far deeper than that?
He sighed, tilting his head, pondering while she took hold of his calloused palm. He stifled a laugh at the ticklish nature suddenly adorning his skin, contemplating the best options. The best endeavors. “You have something to build again.” The spa, the hot springs, clientele, capable of exploiting her talents across Caido, rather than just tending to the hunters and defenders of Halo. “You have us.” The Sword, the Harpy, and whoever else she managed to snag into her fold. “And if you would like, we can put their faces on some targets in the barracks.” A cheeky grin followed, as if this was the best option. “I have one of Confutatis there. It is very cathartic to rip her apart.” Did he repaint it each time to look uglier? Possibly. But he’d never hid his pettiness.
Then he was released, and the monolith was free to finally sit up. It took him a moment to bask in the stillness, in the repose, in the triumph of his form being completely unburdened – a liberation, a freedom, he couldn’t recall having last. Arms raised over his head in a long extension, and then his legs did the same towards the floor, enjoying, rejoicing, in the culmination of her efforts. Eventually, he rid himself of the table too, flickering down to the ground with catlike assertions, ignoring the way she seemed very content and smug. He’d permit it. Reaching behind his crown to unwind his hair back down, his gaze flickered back over to her. “Stretches?”
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
