DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
Grief and trauma had that cyclical hold; and though he’d give anything to simply lower his head and maneuver onward, the triumphs – their imminent survival – could never quite outcome all the phantoms burning their way down his spine. He’d tried in war after war, battle after battle, loss after loss, and this one, like so many before, would take the angles of time. And little by little, they’d forge on, never quite numbed enough to the pain and agony, but remembering, recalling, how to forge, how to steel, how to progress and ensure the losses hadn’t been in vain.
But gods he was tired.
A muffled sigh and forbearing wince soldiered on, and he removed the rest of his clothing, tossing them aside to be picked apart or discarded like the jacket. His gaze alternated between ghosts and wraiths and simple existence – grateful, exhausted, fatigued, drained, and just bearing it across every line in his shoulders, leaning back in return, tilting his head to grace upon hers while the water filled and the heat flooded in steam and plumes.
Mouth maneuvered over her hairline, where lips pressed against her brow, shifting guttural vocals along her skin, striving to snag at some manner of relief too, amidst all the doom and gloom. “Glad you are here,” that she lived and breathed and they were going to hold onto their second and third and five hundredth chances amidst Halo. With him. With all of them. And they’d find ways to overcome – because they always had, even if the trails seemed mottled and marred by thorns. “Knew you were strong,” and he lowered his gaze just to see if he could catch hers by way of amusement.
Before stepping in, permitting the rush of the water to flicker against his calves, hand extended and reaching out to drag her in.
But gods he was tired.
A muffled sigh and forbearing wince soldiered on, and he removed the rest of his clothing, tossing them aside to be picked apart or discarded like the jacket. His gaze alternated between ghosts and wraiths and simple existence – grateful, exhausted, fatigued, drained, and just bearing it across every line in his shoulders, leaning back in return, tilting his head to grace upon hers while the water filled and the heat flooded in steam and plumes.
Mouth maneuvered over her hairline, where lips pressed against her brow, shifting guttural vocals along her skin, striving to snag at some manner of relief too, amidst all the doom and gloom. “Glad you are here,” that she lived and breathed and they were going to hold onto their second and third and five hundredth chances amidst Halo. With him. With all of them. And they’d find ways to overcome – because they always had, even if the trails seemed mottled and marred by thorns. “Knew you were strong,” and he lowered his gaze just to see if he could catch hers by way of amusement.
Before stepping in, permitting the rush of the water to flicker against his calves, hand extended and reaching out to drag her in.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
