DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
He listened, a tilt of his head in her direction, his eyes continually elsewhere, taking in the flora without actually paying attention to it. There in his senses, while his mind reeled away to other segments. He muffled a quiet snort once more at her declaration of surprising himself; he knew his charms were not for many, but at least it was somewhere to traverse and go without completely giving up. At the mentioning of returning straight to Whitebrim though, he arched his brow. “I believe they would notice something else starting up there,” especially a small pocket of rebellion and insurrection all over again. And it would probably be all the more tempting to snag and imprison him; given the opportunity and chance.
But those defiant, seditious little blades in the back of his mind conjured and pervaded.
The measures of Stormbreak, often not in his thoughts simply because he wasn’t permitted there, and it simply seemed to hold a prevailing amount of loathing, made his cranium eventually swivel towards her; the arch of his brow clear and distinct. Deimos had learnt of the contempt for Abandoned before – from her – but not about any children. “What do you mean? What is going on?” Persecution after persecution?
But those defiant, seditious little blades in the back of his mind conjured and pervaded.
The measures of Stormbreak, often not in his thoughts simply because he wasn’t permitted there, and it simply seemed to hold a prevailing amount of loathing, made his cranium eventually swivel towards her; the arch of his brow clear and distinct. Deimos had learnt of the contempt for Abandoned before – from her – but not about any children. “What do you mean? What is going on?” Persecution after persecution?
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
