DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
He watched intermittently, eyes coming up every once in a while from examining his lantern, into surveying hers. Iridescent and lustrous structures, pigments, flickers of paint coming across the base riddled some manifestations of a daughter lost. Then he’d return carefully to Ru’in’s representation, permitting a ghost, a hint, of dark sienna to be embedded into the metal lacquering, so that when it turned it highlighted the figments and hues. Though usually easily coaxed into silence, sometimes a preference, his low rumble started again, quiet enough so there were no echoing murmurs from the otherwise empty expanse. “You can tell me more about them, if you want. I did not know them well enough.” Before he faded into death.
And if she didn’t want to – if it was too painful, then he’d let it be. No push. No shove. No prying.
And if she didn’t want to – if it was too painful, then he’d let it be. No push. No shove. No prying.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
