DEIMOS
Deimos would never be unaware of the avarice between the pair of them – at once inherently vicious and vehement, seizing anything they could to ensure their havens were safe. Brutal, chaotic, embellished in the bedlam, he knew better than to believe it had all been extinguished – but where his was quieter now, hers might’ve bled into the grief and anguish. He wouldn’t sacrifice communication with Evie to offer Ru a solemn promise, and the only conviction he could afford was an open discussion about the academy.
But he understood – what it meant to have and hold nothing, to want to grasp and snag and tear the world apart, limb by limb, branch by branch, for something to savor and strive and protect.
A long breath flowed through his chest, distinct in the comprehension of loss. She’d experienced more than enough, and some part of him couldn’t fathom how she’d managed to overcome each and every one – the way they echoed, resounded, and hollowed bits and pieces out. “I know,” he whispered, so that she didn’t have to persist in the doldrums, so he could at least offer the intangible threads and hands, pulling her along to the shore. A listening ear, a platitude of some mercy in the thicket of nothingness.
He might’ve snorted, eyes glancing up at the ceiling, pretending that the war hadn’t pressed its way against his throat too and called to them like a damning beacon. “I am not that easy to get rid of anyway.”
But he understood – what it meant to have and hold nothing, to want to grasp and snag and tear the world apart, limb by limb, branch by branch, for something to savor and strive and protect.
A long breath flowed through his chest, distinct in the comprehension of loss. She’d experienced more than enough, and some part of him couldn’t fathom how she’d managed to overcome each and every one – the way they echoed, resounded, and hollowed bits and pieces out. “I know,” he whispered, so that she didn’t have to persist in the doldrums, so he could at least offer the intangible threads and hands, pulling her along to the shore. A listening ear, a platitude of some mercy in the thicket of nothingness.
He might’ve snorted, eyes glancing up at the ceiling, pretending that the war hadn’t pressed its way against his throat too and called to them like a damning beacon. “I am not that easy to get rid of anyway.”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
