DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
The snort at insinuations and innuendos echoed along as he left the doorway, a momentary motion as he sought Zuriel. The unicorn was in her usual perch at the hearth, curled up, head only raised when he approached with dinner in hand and apologies across their bond. Belial was there in a flurry too, and between notions of regrets, heartaches, and confusion, the mare healed his notched wounds, leaving only the circuits of scars in their place. With further promises he intended to keep, he left both to reside before the roaring, stoked fire, winding his way through the kitchen, snagging at anything within reach.
His return to the bedroom came with a large plate of crackers, cheese, and grapes, before sitting on the bed, placing the array in between them. The Sword was half-inclined to fall back against the pillows and forget the whole thing – but the rumble in his stomach, and a willing ear conjured some manner of persistence. Perhaps he thought the more he expressed outwardly, the less of the horrors would come to visit him in dreams. Maybe it was better to not internalize the trauma. Fingers prying apart a few grapes and popping them into his mouth, a long breath uncoiled from his chest – and knowing he wouldn’t be able to do the story justice, began composing renditions with enchantments too – permitting the images to slide gracefully and poignantly along droplets of water.
“The dragons came first,” and though some of it could likely be left up to imagination, the cascades drew themselves into the lizards and pockets of rain – descending, flying, hovering, embarking, fangs honed and sharpened. “We never saw the Ascended.” He could only guess haphazardly about what had become of them – as the images changed, shifted, from person to person amidst their warrior band.
His return to the bedroom came with a large plate of crackers, cheese, and grapes, before sitting on the bed, placing the array in between them. The Sword was half-inclined to fall back against the pillows and forget the whole thing – but the rumble in his stomach, and a willing ear conjured some manner of persistence. Perhaps he thought the more he expressed outwardly, the less of the horrors would come to visit him in dreams. Maybe it was better to not internalize the trauma. Fingers prying apart a few grapes and popping them into his mouth, a long breath uncoiled from his chest – and knowing he wouldn’t be able to do the story justice, began composing renditions with enchantments too – permitting the images to slide gracefully and poignantly along droplets of water.
“The dragons came first,” and though some of it could likely be left up to imagination, the cascades drew themselves into the lizards and pockets of rain – descending, flying, hovering, embarking, fangs honed and sharpened. “We never saw the Ascended.” He could only guess haphazardly about what had become of them – as the images changed, shifted, from person to person amidst their warrior band.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
