DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
She could know, and know, and know until the world fell apart and ended, but what weight did it hold? What significance did it bear? He had half an inclination to ask if she’d run back to them, given half a moment, given half a chance, if their stupid, selfish arms were open wide and promising with more vows that would never suffice. Maybe he didn’t want to know; that it was better to remain ignorant of the trials brewing in her soul – incapable of understanding why she’d ever yearn to return to people who only seemed to maim. Out of love? Out of selfishness?But instead, the Sword dug further into the ice, warring his frustration and irritation into the rime, no longer utilizing his incantations, no need, when the situations were already damning and paramount, when he had nothing else to offer or give. He could insult them until he was blue in the face. He could render them into broken, disillusioned pieces. But it wouldn’t stop her from hurting. Those wounds had long since been set.
Time and distractions. Other motives. Other means. Something else to break up the melancholy.
Which seemed to be rendered on her end, while his mind tossed and turned, while he bludgeoned back and forth and labored between what he was supposed to say – because it never seemed right – inclining his head, pushing away a sigh, breaking it apart in his ribs. “Do you know what you are going to ask?” Over the hot springs, or something else notched between?
Unite and spread the heart apart
