intention erased

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Zuriel opted to suddenly immerse herself into cold shoulder antics, ignoring Samuel entirely, chin lifted in a seditious manner. Her healing properties still maintained and remained, but she otherwise didn’t bother with the Ascended at all. It might’ve been for the best. Deimos arched a brow once more, listening to Sam’s request, his eyes narrowed in speculation for an instant. Hopeful? War wasn’t necessarily cheery, optimistic, or positive. There were methods to the chaos, the bedlam, the lives poised and at stake, the taking, the defending, the shielding; outcomes depending on retreats, on perilous, treacherous methods, on plots skimming and scheming, wreckage and ruin. Reflecting upon the ones they’d howled amidst, puncturing, piercing, lacerating, and tearing multitudes apart – the only venture he could decide upon was the first. For despite their loss, it eventually led them to the Basin. So he nodded, and instead of just storylines, he created figures along the table, a token of clifftops and raging water first, a spiral of desert next, and then one massive sable dragon. “I belonged to the kingdom of the World’s Edge in Helovia,” and his index finger pointed to the cliffs, where the raging surf rallied and beat upon ramparts, where the fog and mist curled over enigmas. “The patron deity was the Moon Goddess.” Not unlike Safrin in a variety of ways – though the Reaper had known the latter much more than the former. “She spurred Mirage, leader of the Qian,” and here he pushed the black dragon forward, “to take over the Edge.” Rampant followers, caterers to the cosmos, to the constellations, to the lunar boundaries. “Mirage gained allies in the Dragon’s Throat, and invaded us.” He glanced up, after segmenting the desert, the flying lizard, all into a segmented accord towards his once home, ensuring there weren’t any questions before he continued. “We were easily outnumbered.” The beast made no mention of how they’d worked their way through slaughter and dominion, how their hearts beat within their ribs, how hard they strived to keep their land, how no matter what they did, it scarcely mattered in the end. There he paused – opting to see if Samuel was keen on this tale, or if he’d have to pursue something else. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace