DEIMOS
She must have thought him sinking, waiting for him to fall apart, diminish, come unraveled at the seams again. It was tempting, and he’d worn his melancholy well in days past. It was easier to dwell where he’d errored, faltered, and stumbled; such was the way his mind worked, striving to immerse beyond the measures of his fumblings. It was easier to drown under the murk and mire of sorrow. It was easier to bend and break. But the Sword had worked far too hard, and for far too long, to succumb. The iron had re-forged. The steel had realigned. And in the place where the anguish still yearned to burrow, he placed strength and accord, reworked the fibers until his chest didn’t cave in and his soul didn’t bleed and his bones didn’t fetter away. It could hurt, it could tarnish, it could warp, but not in the way he had before. No more. “Thank you,” half-smiles flickered there, in the corner of his mouth, before he shifted, attention on her, and not on the ice that made up their lives. “No doubts.” A nod, as if to confirm he wouldn’t. He nearly added that she shouldn't either; then remembered Ru rarely placed herself on such wavering pinnacles. It almost made him chuckle.
And the rest? The rest could fall into their measures and machinations; normalcy in the wakes of worlds long since gone. But here there was no need for secret, furtive tents, just heads bowed over the portion of parchment and charcoal he created within his palm, placing it down on the flattened proportion of the boulder. His hand was steady as he sketched, as he drew, as he took sensible, plotting notes; minds born for calculations and divisions, decisions scattering across leagues and fathoms. “Unfortunately, no.” He barked a light reel of laughter, before continuing in the same pattern, making miniscule crosses over portions of the diligent work every so often. A nod here and there, as Hotaru supplied other particulars. “And no need for their involvement.” Safety, sanctuary, and refuge for those innocent.
Deimos passed her the paper and writing instrument when he was finished, leaning back against the stone, waiting her perusal and judgement. “What do you think?” He paused, pointing at fixtures he’d sketched and detailed along the side. “I can create these easily.”
But when it came to him? “Wherever I am needed.” Protection. Shielding. Might.
And the rest? The rest could fall into their measures and machinations; normalcy in the wakes of worlds long since gone. But here there was no need for secret, furtive tents, just heads bowed over the portion of parchment and charcoal he created within his palm, placing it down on the flattened proportion of the boulder. His hand was steady as he sketched, as he drew, as he took sensible, plotting notes; minds born for calculations and divisions, decisions scattering across leagues and fathoms. “Unfortunately, no.” He barked a light reel of laughter, before continuing in the same pattern, making miniscule crosses over portions of the diligent work every so often. A nod here and there, as Hotaru supplied other particulars. “And no need for their involvement.” Safety, sanctuary, and refuge for those innocent.
Deimos passed her the paper and writing instrument when he was finished, leaning back against the stone, waiting her perusal and judgement. “What do you think?” He paused, pointing at fixtures he’d sketched and detailed along the side. “I can create these easily.”
But when it came to him? “Wherever I am needed.” Protection. Shielding. Might.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
