DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Nestled deep within their newly-finished study, the Sword had already established himself a spot, including desk, shelving, and a variety of books – though some ledgers were already spread out over the work surface, long blueprints unfurled and unrolled, paperweights pinpointed on opposing sides as he sketched and diagramed. Belial was already curled up in front of the hearth, and Zuriel was outside, tending to the flakes of hay he’d given her some minutes before. It’d be an opportunity to snag a little free time and scratch another intention off the list of to-dos, when Evie’s voice rang out.
Mildly hysterical. Slightly panicked.
The semblance of apprehension coiled deep in his chest and he was out of the room swiftly, efficiently, leaving the peryton well behind as long strides carried him down the hall. Mere seconds away it might’ve been, but it was more than enough instances for him to conjure all sorts of trepidations, imagining the worst (perhaps the Citadel was under attack), to something ridiculous (like a pair of idiots committing another foolish act), and everything else in between. Swallowing down the trail of bile already threatening his throat, he careened along the entrance, head raised –
Only to find Evie holding a cub.
Unfurling the long, slow breath he’d been holding, he simply leaned against the doorframe, arms folding across his chest, the deep rumble of his tones on the edge of amusement. “What did you pick up now?"
Mildly hysterical. Slightly panicked.
The semblance of apprehension coiled deep in his chest and he was out of the room swiftly, efficiently, leaving the peryton well behind as long strides carried him down the hall. Mere seconds away it might’ve been, but it was more than enough instances for him to conjure all sorts of trepidations, imagining the worst (perhaps the Citadel was under attack), to something ridiculous (like a pair of idiots committing another foolish act), and everything else in between. Swallowing down the trail of bile already threatening his throat, he careened along the entrance, head raised –
Only to find Evie holding a cub.
Unfurling the long, slow breath he’d been holding, he simply leaned against the doorframe, arms folding across his chest, the deep rumble of his tones on the edge of amusement. “What did you pick up now?"
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
