DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
The Sword, and the Reaper, had been so ingrained amidst battles; to see the clues, the notions, the slightest movements and motions of an opponent, an enemy, that anything else had gone by the wayside. Seen as an object of affection, while not necessarily new or foreign, given all his other experiences (of loss and loss and then nothingness), bordered on precarious lines and a confidence he didn’t have – but might gradually come to see, come to know, come to understand. His head tilted at the laughter, grin softening, rounding out the edges of exhaustion and fatigue drifting through his mind – like webs, cloudy and fogged.
His free hand wandered amidst suds and soap, down by her sides and along curves until those were clean – but it was a restless movement and motion, too distracted by alternating notions. The calloused wake of his other palm was blessed and sanctified, and he permitted a chuckle to rumble through, even if the subject matter didn’t deign such an action. Ticklish, maybe, though he didn’t bother to explain it, allowing the shudder and undulation to linger on his skin.
And would Cordelia do such a thing? He’d believed her loyalty a foundation of her character, and maybe it would rise again in the coming days, where they all had more time, more opportunities. “Up to her now,” he mirrored with a slow nod, head drooping involuntarily and then swinging back up, as if caught by the drowsiness and fighting the intensity.
His piercing eyes flickered back to hers though, and even though he was quickly snagged and caught by the listlessness forged along his own frame, the ghost of a grin remained. “And where do you want to start?”
His free hand wandered amidst suds and soap, down by her sides and along curves until those were clean – but it was a restless movement and motion, too distracted by alternating notions. The calloused wake of his other palm was blessed and sanctified, and he permitted a chuckle to rumble through, even if the subject matter didn’t deign such an action. Ticklish, maybe, though he didn’t bother to explain it, allowing the shudder and undulation to linger on his skin.
And would Cordelia do such a thing? He’d believed her loyalty a foundation of her character, and maybe it would rise again in the coming days, where they all had more time, more opportunities. “Up to her now,” he mirrored with a slow nod, head drooping involuntarily and then swinging back up, as if caught by the drowsiness and fighting the intensity.
His piercing eyes flickered back to hers though, and even though he was quickly snagged and caught by the listlessness forged along his own frame, the ghost of a grin remained. “And where do you want to start?”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
