intention erased

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Busy in his musings, in the moorings and trappings of yesteryears, the Sword hadn’t noticed Zuriel’s rapt attention. What captivated her was an uncertain precipice; by bond alone she would’ve known the stories, the images, curled and contorted constantly in the back of his mind. But the unicorn’s haughty gaze had dimmed, a tilt of her head, intent in study and perusal while her horn still glowed, appealing to healing properties for the Ascended. Deimos arched a brow at the disappointment layered in Samuel’s voice; a shrug and shift to his shoulders. They’d been haunted by the poignancy of defeat too, the hollowed granules of the void, of the cold, of worlds they’d lost. “It was not.” Flattened plains only outlined by shifts of caverns, apertures that were neither warm nor inviting; a bleak outstretch of frigid land he’d eventually come to know and cherish. He missed Sam’s smile, but not the insurrection – rebellion eternally in his blood, and those belonging to the oeuvres of the Basin. It was how they’d survived. It was how they’d thrived. It was how they’d carved themselves out of nothing, the obsolete, the fallen, the broken. Their heads hadn’t been down for long – baring their teeth, their howls, their vitriol. But Samuel had asked  how, and didn’t seem to judge on the potential persecutions. “We wanted the Qian to know we were still there.” Around, as vengeful, rapacious, mercurial predators, that they were committed to existence, that they’d return and avenge. “Some were petty – trying to steal things from their kingdoms. Some attempted abduction of their citizens.” Ransoms would’ve been prolific, tidings of the bestial and barbaric. “Some snagged and clawed at information.” At throats, at forms, at citizens of glass and fog, of sand and dirt. The Reaper had been willing to do whatever it took. So had the rest of them. And now, to the hopeful stature – and in the midst of silence, he created another beacon. This one was bigger, brighter, than any of the others combined – mountains and peaks, summits and hills, vibrant with ivory and hues of the northern lights, made to blend against the backdrop of glory and power. “But all this action caught the eye of the God of Time. He bid us to come to the mountains.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace