DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
For half a moment he wanted to chord off right into a mulish fixture; raise and jut out his jaw a little more, towering and colossal, massive and irritating, because he was cross and they were flailing around in the misunderstanding layers. He’d struck out because he was tired and mentally scarred and she’d apparently thought him derelict in his duty; because at some venture he wondered if it was going to be a constant monotony of brandishing his knives and watching everything still fall apart. “You made it sound as though I should be heading straight there and waging another battle immediately.” His expression didn’t change; too guarded now, contorting into the framework of all his steel, all his resolve. “We did not have the chance to gain any allies. Make defenses. Anything.” A snort stole through him. “It is like we are starting all over again. So yes, I am frustrated.” And tired, and maimed, and marred in too many inward scars. But his formidable mind was already working, churning, though whether this was from irritation, fumes, or something else altogether, he couldn’t name or pinpoint. “Halo is closed off during Deepfrost.” Unless they managed to do something about that in the meantime. But it might give them more opportunities.
He couldn’t badger and skewer in her calm and steady rationale, which was all the more infuriating, leaving him to seethe and stare outward, imagine some of the flowers nearby bursting into flame. This wasn’t what he’d come out here for.
The Sword’s features didn’t change when her hurt came into play, though there was some angling of another sigh barbed in his lungs. “How would we have reached you?” A quickly spun letter, sent off with ravens, summoning Safrin’s daughter for aid? “And what would have happened if you were hurt or captured? They were out for blood. Morgan had them attack her own home.” He didn’t deny her involvement in their ongoing strife; but having more and more citizens devastated and maimed wouldn’t have improved anything either.
He couldn’t badger and skewer in her calm and steady rationale, which was all the more infuriating, leaving him to seethe and stare outward, imagine some of the flowers nearby bursting into flame. This wasn’t what he’d come out here for.
The Sword’s features didn’t change when her hurt came into play, though there was some angling of another sigh barbed in his lungs. “How would we have reached you?” A quickly spun letter, sent off with ravens, summoning Safrin’s daughter for aid? “And what would have happened if you were hurt or captured? They were out for blood. Morgan had them attack her own home.” He didn’t deny her involvement in their ongoing strife; but having more and more citizens devastated and maimed wouldn’t have improved anything either.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
