Deimos
The wind pooled and brandished; he felt nearly none of it. Confined and rooted inward, muscles tensing, the discomfort evident as he sought to return to the refuge of shells and walls, even if they were just natural, inherent things. But that wasn’t fair to Evie, and the inquiries nestled within gave rise to greater notions, perhaps fear and terror, than just listlessly pawing his way through crowded, irritated emotions. The rumbles flickered along the beat of the breeze, colliding with his reasoning, with the unspoken, unsaid layers still wrapping around his bones. “We do not have many options.” Some had already filled in the role before, including himself, put in their time and efforts, found other means and measures more fulfilling. Some didn’t have the hours any longer. Some didn’t have the experience. Some didn’t want it, and had made their boundaries clear – even as he eyed his own, wondering how much farther and further he’d have to step. “Halo needs some consistency.” He shrugged his shoulders again, could feel the weight beginning to surge and crawl.
The Sword wondered just how many times it’d be him sacrificing – or if he’d simply been permitted enough time to enjoy the comforts of the world, and now…
He could feel his teeth beginning to grind down on one another, and he released another stifled breath. “I have led before,” a casual admittance, as if it hadn’t made him into a far more nefarious, savage, barbaric creature, ruthless to a point where not many would’ve stopped him from obliterating an enemy that crossed the line of mountain paths. Or that he’d permitted himself to drive his own soul into the ground. “I just do not want to be miserable, or make anyone else the same.” The simplicity of it – and the veracity made him incline his eyes back to hers, watching.
The Sword wondered just how many times it’d be him sacrificing – or if he’d simply been permitted enough time to enjoy the comforts of the world, and now…
He could feel his teeth beginning to grind down on one another, and he released another stifled breath. “I have led before,” a casual admittance, as if it hadn’t made him into a far more nefarious, savage, barbaric creature, ruthless to a point where not many would’ve stopped him from obliterating an enemy that crossed the line of mountain paths. Or that he’d permitted himself to drive his own soul into the ground. “I just do not want to be miserable, or make anyone else the same.” The simplicity of it – and the veracity made him incline his eyes back to hers, watching.
it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites
It's the fire it ignites
