DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
His eyes narrowed speculatively, turning them on Talyson for a moment, pondering where he’d been lurking amidst waterfalls. Maybe it was an offhand comment, or he’d wandered amongst the Greatwood or the Climb – leaving the courier to his own musings, but noting the sheepish wince and flush – carefully placing his arched brow down into a more reticent expression.
Easy to do when he was searching for the right place for the lemon seed, angling it along another ending proportion of a row, committed to the cycle and pattern of workmanship. The question that came thereafter though gave him pause, because that was a long story, and not without the piles of history layered upon multiple lives, ghosts in the frame of his bones, and many furtive notations few would ever hear.
He kept it purposefully light, renewed purpose in carving out a niche for the sprout. “Ended up in Helovia, eventually, at a land called the Aurora Basin. It was remarkably similar to here.” In between wars and ice and rime and crowns, blood spilled and deaths marked, marched, upon nefarious moments. He shrugged his shoulders thereafter, placing the seed within loam. No mention of sickness, of losing everything and everyone, of traversing here, awaiting death outside the walls and halls of the Citadel. “The mountains always seemed to be home.”
Easy to do when he was searching for the right place for the lemon seed, angling it along another ending proportion of a row, committed to the cycle and pattern of workmanship. The question that came thereafter though gave him pause, because that was a long story, and not without the piles of history layered upon multiple lives, ghosts in the frame of his bones, and many furtive notations few would ever hear.
He kept it purposefully light, renewed purpose in carving out a niche for the sprout. “Ended up in Helovia, eventually, at a land called the Aurora Basin. It was remarkably similar to here.” In between wars and ice and rime and crowns, blood spilled and deaths marked, marched, upon nefarious moments. He shrugged his shoulders thereafter, placing the seed within loam. No mention of sickness, of losing everything and everyone, of traversing here, awaiting death outside the walls and halls of the Citadel. “The mountains always seemed to be home.”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
