DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
It fell to quiet; Evie’s incantations working their way through a body that simply couldn’t hold them any longer, Yosef’s breathing, struggling, and finally nothing else. Maybe the latter finally had some relief, after time embroiled in agony, and the Sword bowed his head for the old man who’d helped cultivate the world of Halo through years upon years.
His heart went out to Evie, slumped over and exhausted, and he did exactly as he’d claimed. Cleaning up their dishes, and patting Yosef on the arm, Deimos was an efficient beast in the wake of turmoil; knowing and understanding chaos, grief, and anguish like the callouses on his palms, well-acquainted with the expanse of melancholy. The Evergreen became his main priority, bundling her up carefully in his arms without much effort, her head lolling in the crook of his neck. Opening the door with one hand, and murmuring to the nurses about the man’s demise, promises were made with care of the body, pyres the following day, and anything else necessary. With quiet nods, and a turn of his head, Zuriel came along behind, and the promise of home rang through their minds again.
With an unfurled breath, they meandered back into the fold of Halo’s evening – dark, midnight skies, stars clustered overhead, smoke curling from chimneys, and lanterns’ warm glows - as long strides took them down familiar paths. Granting her a whisper she likely couldn’t or wouldn’t hear, his rumble still exuded, hushed, on thoughts he couldn’t voice earlier. “Life drain is about taking,” he could acknowledge often and always – snagging, stealing, coaxing strength from another until they had nothing left. He’d weaponized it time and time and time again. “But your healing gives.” Bestowals, offerings, and even those last instances of life. “You gave him exactly what he needed.” Even if it wasn’t what they all wanted, in the end.
And all the while, Zuriel bent her head, gently touching her horn to Evie's shoulder, in hopes of recuperation and aid.
His heart went out to Evie, slumped over and exhausted, and he did exactly as he’d claimed. Cleaning up their dishes, and patting Yosef on the arm, Deimos was an efficient beast in the wake of turmoil; knowing and understanding chaos, grief, and anguish like the callouses on his palms, well-acquainted with the expanse of melancholy. The Evergreen became his main priority, bundling her up carefully in his arms without much effort, her head lolling in the crook of his neck. Opening the door with one hand, and murmuring to the nurses about the man’s demise, promises were made with care of the body, pyres the following day, and anything else necessary. With quiet nods, and a turn of his head, Zuriel came along behind, and the promise of home rang through their minds again.
With an unfurled breath, they meandered back into the fold of Halo’s evening – dark, midnight skies, stars clustered overhead, smoke curling from chimneys, and lanterns’ warm glows - as long strides took them down familiar paths. Granting her a whisper she likely couldn’t or wouldn’t hear, his rumble still exuded, hushed, on thoughts he couldn’t voice earlier. “Life drain is about taking,” he could acknowledge often and always – snagging, stealing, coaxing strength from another until they had nothing left. He’d weaponized it time and time and time again. “But your healing gives.” Bestowals, offerings, and even those last instances of life. “You gave him exactly what he needed.” Even if it wasn’t what they all wanted, in the end.
And all the while, Zuriel bent her head, gently touching her horn to Evie's shoulder, in hopes of recuperation and aid.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
