no solace in idle conviction

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

A pyre; he was more accustomed to sifting through dirt, through beleaguering a cumbersome weight across his shoulders and down his arms, allowing the aches, the pains, the nuances to shuffle through muscle and marrow too, as if he’d earned the rue, the regret, of another life gone and his not. But building it likely wouldn’t be difficult, wood upon wood, a final resting ground of planks and timber, nestled amongst kindling, still and prone figures ready to be sent into the void, their souls long since gone and extinguished, just their ashes to follow. The only unknown of thereafter was how many others they might have to construct and render, burning, burning, burning into the air, after LongNight finally met its end. For all their preparations, tactics, and knowing far more than they had the previous year, it didn’t seem to have mattered much at all; they still went out, others were still left behind, and they still died. The notion of fire – life and death in this venue, in this realm, curled and coiled against him, in the sanction of his palms where freedom, liberation, and deliverance simmered and smoldered, lithe embers ready to be ignited at a moment’s notice. It represented survival, warmth, heat, molten infernos, protection, but demise too, scarred remnants, scorched earth, lives lost. “You will have it.” He nodded, before his eyes glanced back to the floor, over the hearth, along the wayward walls. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate