DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Deimos would be the first to admit he’d never held a conversation with a dragon. The only one he’d truly come face to face with for any length of time had been within the Fangs, while they were all fighting for their lives. Sunjata and his Attuned proportions didn’t count. So when he received a name, and then more, his eyes narrowed briefly, mind suddenly filled with pictures, with depths, with fathoms he didn’t recognize. Except he too had once held illustrious skies and unwinding seas, malevolent shadows pulsing with nefarious wakes; and so with an ease, he shared proportions of memories with the beast.
Tides upon tides stretched under a silver moon, a listless, serene lull before tempestuous storms. Gull cries in the distance, bare feet racing and tracing with long strides into currents and sand. The outcry of triumphant warriors in the distance, children racing to see their parents return home from a long campaign. Blood and tranquility all in one setting.
And while he could form all of this with a fledgling, he struggled to do so with fellow humans. It might’ve been laughable, if it weren’t so melancholic, and his eyes yearned to drift downward, hide under the ease of nonchalance. They didn’t, because he’d been working hard on not falling to pieces, but he didn’t conform, couldn’t, into escalating over why his mood was somber. “Thank you.” Maybe for another time, another place, or not at all.
Better still to reflect upon her abilities and parameters, than justify anything he had to offer. The semblances were intriguing: and he blinked once or twice, thoughts rambling in their air of machinations and calculations for understanding. He’d always had his elements: not something else altogether, faceted and tucked away. “Elsewhere. And you would be able to open your own portals. Very clever.” Another small smile, before his eyes flickered upward, towards mountains and peaks. “That would be something.” Considerations, for once his curiosity was stoked he became infinitely nosier, consisted and persisted. “Does it take you long to travel to this place?”
Tides upon tides stretched under a silver moon, a listless, serene lull before tempestuous storms. Gull cries in the distance, bare feet racing and tracing with long strides into currents and sand. The outcry of triumphant warriors in the distance, children racing to see their parents return home from a long campaign. Blood and tranquility all in one setting.
And while he could form all of this with a fledgling, he struggled to do so with fellow humans. It might’ve been laughable, if it weren’t so melancholic, and his eyes yearned to drift downward, hide under the ease of nonchalance. They didn’t, because he’d been working hard on not falling to pieces, but he didn’t conform, couldn’t, into escalating over why his mood was somber. “Thank you.” Maybe for another time, another place, or not at all.
Better still to reflect upon her abilities and parameters, than justify anything he had to offer. The semblances were intriguing: and he blinked once or twice, thoughts rambling in their air of machinations and calculations for understanding. He’d always had his elements: not something else altogether, faceted and tucked away. “Elsewhere. And you would be able to open your own portals. Very clever.” Another small smile, before his eyes flickered upward, towards mountains and peaks. “That would be something.” Considerations, for once his curiosity was stoked he became infinitely nosier, consisted and persisted. “Does it take you long to travel to this place?”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
