DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Loren’s name instigated another snort, but he kept it muffled, quieter, more to himself than anyone else, listening, eyes roaming around the verdant atmosphere as the subject became rooted in measures and plans. The lightest smile roamed at the mention of Halos’ and Grounders’ being somewhat applicable in regards to their personalities – both hardy, enduring, mighty to a fault because they had no other choice. What came thereafter though, with legions of them flickering off into other worlds, meant the Hollowed proportions had been absorbed by the Ascended. He couldn’t really blame them. “And what dangerous things are you growing?” Taking and plucking at amusing strings, rather than circling around those other motions, as if side-eyeing the roaming ghosts again, the vocals contained a lower rumble, curious and inquiring just the same.
But that didn’t seem meant to be – not with the drawn out semblances in her voice, the rue and regret dashed amongst them. “At least they have access to King’s End now,” and more fertile fields, when they weren’t under suspicious piles of snow.
Any and all further speculation of not being snared by wraiths was completely forgotten the moment she mentioned the door. His gaze went immediately elsewhere, grin disappearing, fading, memories sliding down the breadth of his spine within the span of a breath. “But that was my doing.” His plans. His notions. His schemes, thinking only of protecting those contained inside, never dwelling on the idea that Rexanna and Clem would be wandering outside. Why had scarcely mattered in the aftermath; and while it might’ve been years since those unfurled maelstroms, and he’d stitched together broken lacerations, the Sword had no intention in re-opening the wounds. Another bite of his apple persevered, perhaps to ground the endeavors and bring back some form of normalcy, but his grip tightened over the fruit, and the fixtures in his mind conjured other factions to restore the balance and tide. “Understood. We will just have to see when the time comes.”
As for the return, he took another few breaths, steadying himself, before glancing back her way. “Halo will be glad to have you,” rumbled in all seriousness, even if he’d tilted his head to break up the pattern of complexities roaming inside his skull.
But that didn’t seem meant to be – not with the drawn out semblances in her voice, the rue and regret dashed amongst them. “At least they have access to King’s End now,” and more fertile fields, when they weren’t under suspicious piles of snow.
Any and all further speculation of not being snared by wraiths was completely forgotten the moment she mentioned the door. His gaze went immediately elsewhere, grin disappearing, fading, memories sliding down the breadth of his spine within the span of a breath. “But that was my doing.” His plans. His notions. His schemes, thinking only of protecting those contained inside, never dwelling on the idea that Rexanna and Clem would be wandering outside. Why had scarcely mattered in the aftermath; and while it might’ve been years since those unfurled maelstroms, and he’d stitched together broken lacerations, the Sword had no intention in re-opening the wounds. Another bite of his apple persevered, perhaps to ground the endeavors and bring back some form of normalcy, but his grip tightened over the fruit, and the fixtures in his mind conjured other factions to restore the balance and tide. “Understood. We will just have to see when the time comes.”
As for the return, he took another few breaths, steadying himself, before glancing back her way. “Halo will be glad to have you,” rumbled in all seriousness, even if he’d tilted his head to break up the pattern of complexities roaming inside his skull.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
