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+---- Thread: [SE] but I mist (/showthread.php?tid=12588)
but I mist - Deimos - 03-02-2026
Were it not for a complaint from merchants and travelers alike rambling through the Tar Pits, Deimos would’ve avoided the place entirely. The Feverlands had never boasted anything fun or uplifting; if memory served correctly, most of his hours spent here had been spent fighting monsters of some ilk, which, given the circumstances of the day, he’d be doing much the same at present.
He wasn’t alone though, with Belial accompanying and hovering skyward with occasional complaints about the mist. The Sword shook his head at the usual, commonplace antics, before extending another bout of Air and Water magic cast around himself and Zuriel; ensuring they stayed dry. To anyone else, it might have appeared as though the rain was cast simply away from them, evading the bombardments.
Sighing as they maneuvered around another set of oozing tar, he wrinkled his nose. While not wholly bothered with massacring the massive, blind rats, he half-hoped they’d wandered into the pits on their own and perished for the rest of the masses. [say]“We can head this way,”[/say] he nodded to Zuriel, who stepped lighter, sniffing and snorting at the alternating path.
RE: but I mist - Colt - 03-02-2026
On foot through the hellhole of a neighboring land, Colt trudges through the tar pits. She wouldn’t much trust a mount out here anyway, but with so few left on hand, she leaves the ones they rounded up with her ranch hands. Everyone’s displaced and dispersed into the town, horses shacked up in personal stables or public barns. Whenever they could find some room for man and beast alike has been the goal, and fortunately they have some good connections in town, but no one’s able to fully house her full operation, not in one place, not for free, and not forever.
Taking it one day at a time, one foot in front of the other, they’re doing the tasks of reclaiming lost animals first. It’s why she’s out here, fighting muck and mire and the shit visibility, wondering all the while if she shouldn’t give up the trail of tracks and call it quits on the horses stupid enough to flee here of all places.
Her duster is pulled up against the wet. It’s stiff with how new it is, and it doesn’t sit as well as her old one did, which is steadily wearing on her. The only outfit to survive the fire is the one she’d been wearing, so she’d had to buy a few essentials in town, and while ordinarily most women might appreciate the chance for a shopping trip, Colt is not only minding her expenses for the moment, but missing old comforts. You never realize how much you appreciate what you’ve broken in until you’re fighting fabric to bend with every stride.
She tries to ignore it. She’s been doing that, dressing it up as focus, like now where she watches every spot she puts her feet, mindful of the greedy tar. She skirts one pit now, glancing over like she might find proof of a foolish horse. She hears Deimos more than sees him, glancing up and pausing, the pack and bow and arrows on her back shifting with the sudden momentum change. [say]”Hello?”[/say] she calls out, not immediately placing the voice from this distance.
RE: but I mist - Deimos - 03-03-2026
Threading through the muck and grime had always been a bit of a nightmare; but he poured sentiments of incantations into the mix, solidifying the ground underneath himself and Zuriel so they wouldn’t fall prey or victim to the elements. Between the three filaments and enchantments, his pulse buzzed with the strength and persistence of his calm command and control, eyes narrowing through the tiny droplets of rain flickering downward.
Belial, however, gave a note of a different sort, and his brows furrowed, turning back over his shoulder as the warning and announcement came through. For his part, the peryton hooted and hollered below when he recognized Colt, passing the message along through companion bonds and assortments, so as the call rang out over the distance, Deimos didn’t have to distrust the components. He’d come around these parts enough times to be highly suspicious of echoing bombardments, or lamplighters, who longed to lure on simple recognition and distant notions. [say]“Colt?”[/say] He queried, head tilting, magic extending a little more to lift fog and vapor away and to administer revelations instead of pending revolutions. [say]“Careful out this way. Hunting down some blind swamp rats.”[/say]
RE: but I mist - Colt - 03-05-2026
Her attention lifts towards the peryton and its calls, tension causing her to take a half step back. Soon enough though, magic parts mist, and a familiar face clarifies into view. [say]”Deimos!”[/say] Relief seizes her with a sigh and looser shoulders. [say]”Thought you might be some swamp monster.”[/say] A giant toad perhaps, with a cruel tongue and an explosive breeding cycle.
Before she can even ask what the hell he’s doing out her, a grand question for herself as well, he offers it up. Despite the dour situation she’s in, her lips twitch, amusement pulling on familiar muscles and their habits. [say]”Might be me, I felt like a blind swamp rat until now.”[/say] Her tease peters out quickly, brows scrunching in a distasteful glance to the side as she continues to pick her way around. [say]”Looking for a few horses that ran off this way. You haven’t seen any, have you?”[/say]
Her teeth pull in her lower lip, and her fingers curl in against her palms, squeezing for a moment. [say]”They uh, they got loose, when my ranch burned down recently.”[/say] She considers not saying it. He didn’t ask, she could have left it vague, horses get out sometimes. Maybe she should feel more shame for the truth, but honestly she’s looking for steady ground, and he’s always been someone who seems to know the right places to walk.
RE: but I mist - Deimos - 03-05-2026
[say]“Not today,”[/say] he warranted with a slight grin; as if there were other moments where he might feel particularly monstrous. He paused mid-step, granting her time to catch up to long strides and movement; ensuring the combination of his magic threaded through the ground, so she might find a firmer pathway too. Zuriel snorted, haughty head tossed about as if bothered by wasting the moments, but Deimos ignored her.
His eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity always beckoning in a way he’d deigned to solve potential problems and root causes – though the only equine he’d seen lately was his own. [say]“No. But I can have Belial alert if he sees any,”[/say] pointing upwards to the peryton continuing to hover overhead; now that Colt had been registered as non-threatening, the companion moved on, seeking out swamp rats and horses.
Though the explanation widened his gaze – they’d just been at the rodeo recently; the sprawl of land and barns, stables and life had been a commendable thing. [say]“I am sorry to hear that.”[/say] Just when he’d been about to compliment the amusing event of bucking people off and gallivanting around – which, he figured, she wouldn’t care to hear at present. Instead, he took a deep breath; mind circling back to all those days in midst of many worlds, reforging, striking anew. [say]“Let me know if you want a hand rebuilding,”[/say] presuming that was an eventual course of action in the future.
RE: but I mist - Colt - 03-11-2026
[say]”Ah, well, the day’s young yet,”[/say] she returns, her own playful smile lobbing back the idea of him as the swamp monster. Which, he quickly proves he could at the very least be a swamp gentleman instead, his magic quietly assisting her trek through the bog. She notices it at once, the fight of every step, the careful placement, now firming up and quickening on the steadier ground, and she eases a fraction further for it. [say]”Thank you,”[/say] she says with a glance his way, the gratitude extending onto her expression, both for his assistance with the trek and the addition of her horses added to his list. It warms her considerably, given the wet, lonely tromp thus far has whittled away all semblance of faith, leaving only raw determination left to keep her going.
She doesn’t know what to do with a sorry, not when she had nothing to forgive, not when she had anything remaining. It doesn’t strike her as pity, just understanding, but she just numbly nods in response to the offering of it. As for his offer to rebuild, that turns her gaze back towards him from the bog, surprise there briefly before she blinks it away. [say]”Appreciate it,”[/say] she sighs, shaking her head faintly. [say]”Not sure that’s the play though, truth be told.”[/say] Her teeth catch her lower lip for a minute, chewing on a thought before she continues on. [say]”Have to sell a bunch of the herd, nowhere to put ‘em while waiting to rebuild, and they’re a lot to feed and keep contained. Besides,”[/say] she shrugs, small and tired, [say]”what’s to stop it from catching fire again? Even metal melts in wildfires. Stone would be difficult to repair.”[/say] Because she’s sure there’d still be repairs, the animals are not forgiving to the borders that keep them in. Wood had the necessary give, and the low cost she needed, but it also fed the fires best.
[say]”Think my best bet’s finding somewhere new to set up shop. Somewhere that won’t burn. Build myself back up from the few head I’m keepin’. Maybe find other ways to make money until then.”[/say] It’s the first time she’s said it aloud, and she glances his way for some form of approval she doesn’t even realize she’s looking for. Her business had belonged to her parents, she just took it over. This would be the first real time she’s deciding anything major, and it could be her downfall, especially when it means leaving behind everything she knows.
RE: but I mist - Deimos - 03-12-2026
He gave a nod and a shrug; either over swamp monsters or thank yous, scarcely and hardly a burden. The steps were methodical and precise thereafter too, a calm combination of incantations unfurling before them as his focus split between enchantments, hunting, and the sudden implications behind lost plans. He could relate; how many times had they tried to forge on with nothing more than endless ambitions and hopes? Similar to the aftermath of the Ascended invasion, banished to nothing and nowhere, and trying to scrape away at plans; what was most likely to occur, what they could do to shift the balance, how they could still infiltrate from their less-than-illustrious positions. But hers was oriented around structures rather than war and territory; a catastrophe and disaster simply at the hands of misfortune. [say]“Understandable. But there is going to be risk in no matter what you decide to take on.”[/say] Whether it be farming, warrior-life, leading, demigod prowesses…not many occupations nor luxuries were considered wholly safe in the wake of Caido.
His features tried not to alter into a frown; instead his brows furrowed, mind calculating through the complexities. A place that wouldn’t hold a fire was somewhat limited; Halo always yearned to keep theirs going, Torchline could have a raucous one moment with bonfires imminent, the Greatwood would be vastly impacted…[say]”Where were you thinking?”[/say] At the very least, to snag at a few more starting points.
Overhead Belial hooted though, alerting to a commotion further down a twist and turn of bog. [say]“He found something,”[/say] and with a shift in his long strides, and a likelihood of either swamp rat or horse, he presumed she’d follow, as they skimmed along quagmire.
[FIN]