DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
He likely should’ve considered that first statement initially – given Sah’s predilections towards information about being human – nearly opened his mouth at the initial set, and then closed it quickly when the Abandoned continued onward.
Courting. Dating. The Sword could understand those parameters for a moment – though it took him an instant longer when the other man mentioned being a surrogate and some twins and Deimos’ eyes narrowed into small pinpoints of piercing blue in utter confusion.
And let that go – except for the wiring in his brain flatlining into a distinct what.
Time to turn the tables of the beginning awkward fumblings; and so he drew a breath, let it slowly cast away out of his lungs, and pulled the sled to fill in the sudden silence. “I am not certain I am the best person to ask about these matters,” considering Huyana in multiple lives (gone, dead, buried, lost), and then Amalia, and the eventual, swift demise of everything they’d built. “Is this concerning Seren?” A very juvenile sort of grin settled into the corner of his mouth, a tease, a taunt, to force his own insecurities and vivid memories away.
The other inquiries caused him to snort, leading their trek back to the Citadel with long strides, as if hastening quicker steps might make this less painful. “Find things they like. Not just materials or objects, but activities too.” How many times had he and Amalia danced and cajoled, incited mischief, in between all those moments of trauma? When he hadn’t even been the Sword and she hadn’t been the Shield; and he’d placed lavender in the bakery’s garden? Wished for easier things and better lives? “Simple things you can share. I did tell her about your oven.”
Courting. Dating. The Sword could understand those parameters for a moment – though it took him an instant longer when the other man mentioned being a surrogate and some twins and Deimos’ eyes narrowed into small pinpoints of piercing blue in utter confusion.
And let that go – except for the wiring in his brain flatlining into a distinct what.
Time to turn the tables of the beginning awkward fumblings; and so he drew a breath, let it slowly cast away out of his lungs, and pulled the sled to fill in the sudden silence. “I am not certain I am the best person to ask about these matters,” considering Huyana in multiple lives (gone, dead, buried, lost), and then Amalia, and the eventual, swift demise of everything they’d built. “Is this concerning Seren?” A very juvenile sort of grin settled into the corner of his mouth, a tease, a taunt, to force his own insecurities and vivid memories away.
The other inquiries caused him to snort, leading their trek back to the Citadel with long strides, as if hastening quicker steps might make this less painful. “Find things they like. Not just materials or objects, but activities too.” How many times had he and Amalia danced and cajoled, incited mischief, in between all those moments of trauma? When he hadn’t even been the Sword and she hadn’t been the Shield; and he’d placed lavender in the bakery’s garden? Wished for easier things and better lives? “Simple things you can share. I did tell her about your oven.”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
