DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Zuriel remained equally unphased; completely indifferent and above it all. Even as the young beast circled, she maintained her haughty disposition, fully intending to hit the creature in the face with her tail, if he didn’t yield. Belial, on the other hand, managed to stick his head out from between her forelegs, staring, eyes widening, at the dragon.
But with Deimos’s agreement and accord, it hardly mattered. They left the companions behind to sort out their mischief and decrees – and within the space of time and endeavors, the rime, ice, and snow gave way to similar parameters of Torchline. He was at once reminded of adventures within Safrin’s library, of being spirited away into books, into manifested portals, into peering through the vapor and vestiges for signs of mountains, rising entirely beyond reach. These seemed far more real though, and not just proportions of paper for them to glide through.
Eyes widening, the Sword took in the landscape on a held breath, waiting for clarity to sink into his mind. “Impressive,” was the first word he could surmise, and meant it, stare rising towards the stars, and then downwards, towards the sand. Tranquility in the pauses and nuances, and something in him settled, very briefly, before he broke away and sauntered, keen and observing. “Did Safrin make it for you?” Or had it been all under her own power and prowess?
Thereafter, the monolith maneuvered forward, arching a brow at the ice seemingly left for naught, towards where some treasures and trinkets seemed to linger along the dunes, curious all over again.
But with Deimos’s agreement and accord, it hardly mattered. They left the companions behind to sort out their mischief and decrees – and within the space of time and endeavors, the rime, ice, and snow gave way to similar parameters of Torchline. He was at once reminded of adventures within Safrin’s library, of being spirited away into books, into manifested portals, into peering through the vapor and vestiges for signs of mountains, rising entirely beyond reach. These seemed far more real though, and not just proportions of paper for them to glide through.
Eyes widening, the Sword took in the landscape on a held breath, waiting for clarity to sink into his mind. “Impressive,” was the first word he could surmise, and meant it, stare rising towards the stars, and then downwards, towards the sand. Tranquility in the pauses and nuances, and something in him settled, very briefly, before he broke away and sauntered, keen and observing. “Did Safrin make it for you?” Or had it been all under her own power and prowess?
Thereafter, the monolith maneuvered forward, arching a brow at the ice seemingly left for naught, towards where some treasures and trinkets seemed to linger along the dunes, curious all over again.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
