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Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place The Reaper was still unused to the notions of charity, of kindness; and even extending it himself, past the bounty of his family or comrades, was nearly unheard of. Benevolence was not a part of his daily life – he was immersed in barbarity, cruelty, sedition and anarchy, and beneficence didn’t hold a place in his plots, schemes, and calculations. Nonetheless, as the bells toiled and snow spiraled, he was one more beast enticed by the glimmer, by the promise, of something (he’d seen it before, on the horizon, in the distance, nestled by the boughs of a tree, giving and granting with nothing expected in return; the sentiments were difficult for him to understand, but he respected its actions, its wishes). His arrival was silent and sure, steady and quiet, a daunting, predatory venture down into the alleyways and shadows of the Thistle Meadow, ferocious and unwinding, belligerent and vicious, a predator on the prowl, a hunter lurking in the midnight veils and oils. But the warring barbs stilled, the vehement fringes ceased, as he gazed upon the tree, the reptile, and the buzzing, blinking bulbs of starlight beckoning them into the fold. The winter Lord stared for a long period of time, studying the sight, the growing throng, always a little shocked, a little surprised, at the gentle nature of the scenery, of the vivid, tranquil, serene surroundings, feeling as though his dark, tense structure simply didn’t belong. He hesitated, building up the momentum to border along the peace, the sanctum, the haven; trying not to destroy the delight pervading and billowing within the setting, for he was just one more nefarious, sinful creature lining the soil, not ever meant for the art of altruism. His history had been one lined with taking and absconding and destroying, and surely one year, this reptile gathered in its great boughs and bulbs and starlight would laugh and send him away. So while crossed the bridge, while he maneuvered, it was only to the fringe of the crowd, so no one could see when he was refused.
[Merry Christmas!] |
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary
