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+---- Thread: shrapnel (/showthread.php?tid=2832)
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shrapnel - Deimos - 02-18-2020
Nothingness; a grasp, a pull, a need for naught to enter his mind but the force of the wind and the salty aspects of the breeze. No earth chaining him to the ground, no mortal boundaries ripping him from the coil – a spread of wings, of feathers, of plumage, and into the spray of the sea, winding his way over beatific quandaries and parallel powers.
He’d had a home like this once, born along the coast, intertwining with shells and surf, the moon at his back and the clarity of the sand beneath his feet, pushing and pushing and pushing until there was laughter in his lungs and friends racing alongside, when worlds hadn’t collapsed, when family hadn’t fallen, when, when, when –
His beak opened and craved a primal scream; but naught came from his mouth, buried and hollowed deep in the pinnacles of his predacious soul. Not allowed to fall apart, not allowed to flicker, not allowed to bow or break. So he was just a streamlined raptor gliding over the dunes, remembering a time, a place, underneath suns, stars, fire, water, and everything else in between.
RE: shrapnel - Loren - 02-18-2020
Despite the fact that it was far from his work, and despite who he might encounter in Torchline, Loren found himself once again drawn to the tropical land. At least this time he'd taken precautions. Shifted into a goose, he had left Astra behind in Halo as he flew high above the ocean below.
It was a beautiful sight, but he didn't enjoy it, too hollowed out inside to enjoy much of anything but rare moments of stolen pleasure and the burn of alcohol. Having run out of both recently, he found himself unsuccessfully chasing other joys. His wings pumped as he flew as fast as he could, trying to drive himself into exhaustion.
However, a familiar form rose up in front of him. Although the healer had only seen it a couple of times, he knew it was Deimos. Sighing mentally (though as closed off as the Launceleyn was, the General would feel nothing), Loren angled towards the other man. [say]Deimos.[/say] It came out carefully neutral.
RE: shrapnel - Deimos - 02-18-2020
Deimos could understand exhaustion, fatigue, the wear and tear of muscles undulating beneath plumes and heartbeats; maybe he wanted it to end too, so much easier, so much simpler, to descend on broken wings and anguished edges. Then he could crash and burn in the waves, and no one would care, no one would think otherwise, finally succumbed and sunk. Swords gone and erased again.
But still he glided and hovered, flying on unwavering boundaries and filaments until the world would grow dark and gray – twisting over dunes, over gathered armaments below. The piercing depths of his eyes, still cold, still blue, still matching ocean reflections, caught a familiar shape – a damned goose, way out amongst the waves. Which meant –
His name was scrawled along the edges of his mind, the voice always the same in its inflections. Perhaps they were both that way now – barely getting by, drifting along fringes until something else collapsed and destroyed. [say]Loren[/say], an address in his own stoic qualities and tone, a rumble, a monolith waiting to fall into the sea. He hadn’t seen the man since the fateful luxere incident, flames and death (always; for an eternity, it followed and hounded). He didn’t ask how he was, because there was no way the other beast was fine. There was no sense in pretending. [say]How is your new position?[/say] floated along instead, tracing over currents and waves.
RE: shrapnel - Loren - 02-18-2020
Unsurprisingly, Loren got as little from Deimos as the healer was sending over to the General. Resisting the urge to do the mental equivalent of eye rolling, the Launceleyn just let himself fly closer to the other man. However, there was something tired in Demios' voice, something that resonated with the exhaustion within Loren.
Unfortunately, he barely had time for his own woes. [say]It's fine. As well as can be expected.[/say] Actually, being Grand Healer (and Astra) were basically the only two things he clung to these days, the only bright spots in an otherwise bleak existence. [say]How is everything in the Hollowed Ground?[/say] It came out politely, without any hint of genuine curiosity.
RE: shrapnel - Deimos - 02-18-2020
Little hints of nothing: Deimos wouldn’t know what to expect out of a healing position. He had Zuriel for any soothing, mending properties, and Helovia had plenty of those in their nursing hierarchy, mending his lacerations from battle back together again. Scars upon scars, lines and strands indicating how he’d fought and survived. How he hadn’t perished. How he’d tried to survive and ensure their kingdom continued to thrive.
He didn’t know what he was doing now. At least Loren had something to dig himself into, some essence that kept him tied and tethered to the world.
The wind lifted him up, above goose feathers, along quandaries and sea sails, listening to the question, to the polite, noble schemes skimming over the breeze. There was no right answer to it; not when Loren knew well and understood the way the Hollowed Grounds worked: for every monumental, successful moment, there were hundreds of maiming others carving it from the inside out. [say]Chaotic. Tragic.[/say] A sigh. [say]Normal.[/say]
RE: shrapnel - Loren - 02-18-2020
Loren found himself glancing towards Deimos. Not responding to the General's words right away, the healer simply found himself flying in lazy arcs around the other man. [say]Sorry to hear that.[/say] There was little sympathy or warmth behind the Launceleyn's thoughts.
Sighing mentally, letting this one echo through the bond, he stared out at the horizon. [say]Things in Halo aren't much better, to be honest.[/say] There was a weary exhaustion in his mind, one he was too tired to hide. [say]I heard about...Peter and Adam.[/say] Grief shot through him, fresh and raw, opening the wounds that hadn't even begun to heal before the latest tragedy.
[say]Want to talk about it?[/say] Despite the hints of sarcasm—Deimos' taciturn nature was nearly legendary—Loren's offer was genuine.
RE: shrapnel - Deimos - 02-18-2020
Loren had no need to apologize; he hadn’t been involved in the mess, in the circumstances surrounding the tragedy. But he knew, he knew how easily they all crumbled to dust, to ash, to smoke, to fumes. [say]I am sorry for your loss[/say] came on neutral tones too, a way of sharing the agony, of comprehending so little, and not knowing how to move past it other than forwards. Because sometimes even then, the weigh was too much and the burdens too great.
The exhaustion and the sighs were shared, and he nodded, an eagle brandishing of acknowledgment, swallowing down the what did you expect?, because this world was harsh and all the others were bound to be the same.
Peter and Adam. Adam and Peter. The subject burned and seethed in his mind, images of frozen beings and dragons that wouldn’t go away, ice shields that hadn’t protected, floating little rafts he could’ve concocted to ensure their bodies, their souls, came along too. The grief bounded against him and something in his stomach dared to retch and roll; he flew higher than the goose’s arcs, but there was no hiding. Not in the open sky. Not in the watery fathoms. [say]It was stupid. It should never have happened.[/say]
RE: shrapnel - Loren - 02-18-2020
Fighting down the instinctual way his feathers fluffed up at Deimos' words, Loren forced himself to relax. To force down the anger that rose within him, though some slid through their link on chilly fingers. [say]Thank you.[/say] It came out more annoyed than grateful, but at least he hadn't snapped at the General, as the healer was so wont to do these days.
[say]Yes it was, and no it shouldn't,[/say] he agreed, a little more sharply than he'd intended. However, he had little patience and even less sympathy for others than usual. [say]But it did. So we just have to mourn them as best we can, and live with this latest grief.[/say] Empty words, from a broken man who was unable to get past his own many many losses.
RE: shrapnel - Deimos - 02-18-2020
The words weren’t anything new; he’d tried, he’d tried, he’d tried, but between his grief and Amalia’s the tethers, the bindings, the accursed momentum had been reeling, and maneuvering forward an exhausting, fragile mess. They were all bound into these thresholds and footholds that were smaller, shifting into perilous, paralyzing circumstances over and over and over again. It might’ve been one thing if they had any breathing room – but after Fiat Lux had been temples falling, and after temples falling had been Adam and Peter dying. In between there’d been naught but grasping, clenching claws, struggling, striving, to figure out what mattered, what they could still hold together.
He almost asked Loren how, and then wondered if he’d even have the answer. If any of them did. Because long ago he’d pushed everything deep down and let it collapse on him from the inside out. Because that was easier than scraping along rock bottom, maintaining misery as the status quo. [say]Like always[/say] was all he could add, basking, gliding, over the stretch of dunes.
RE: shrapnel - Loren - 02-18-2020
Although Deimos didn't actually voice or express anything he was feeling, Loren didn't really need to guess. He imagined the General felt much the same as the healer did these days: hollowed out, broken, having been so full of grief that it had finally overwhelmed him, leaving him unable to see the life and light all around. [say]Yes. At least we have experience with it.[/say] There was something almost darkly amused about the Launceleyn's thought.
Then he sighed mentally. [say]Look I don't...obviously I'm hardly an authority on healthy decision making. But...[/say] He turned his head so he could regard the other man. [say]Despite what it might feel, not all...not all is lost. There are still those that love and care for you, and that you love and care for in return. So just...be there for them. Tell them how you feel, not matter how reluctant you might be, or how difficult it is to express yourself.[/say]
Loren paused, another hot knife of sorrow slicing through his soul. [say]Because you never know when it might be too late. And not all of us have that.[/say]
RE: shrapnel - Deimos - 02-18-2020
Experience; dual lifetimes of loss and heartache and trying to hold himself together: branching off into wild, savage, nefarious deeds because it was easier, because vehemence, vitriol, and violence were accustomed to his bones, to his marrow, to his being. Comfortable in destruction, in mayhem, but not the hereafter: when others he’d cherished took their last breaths and he couldn’t do anything about it. Worthless. Not enough. He didn’t send back any amusement, the fault lines threatening to crash and fall around him.
Loren’s last statements singed and burned though, and the beast hung his head as he circled over sands and swells, along a calm, awakening breeze, the breath knocked out of him. It was mostly because he knew better, and should’ve been better, and sometimes chances were slim. Were gone. Were vanished, vanquished in a moment – no amount of ignorance to the subject contorting and unraveling. He’d done it all before. He’d lost and lost and lost; they all had. Marred, ruined, blackened, shorn to pieces.
The sorrow ground and wound, a sigh flickering over his senses, uncertain of what to say or what to do – naught to make these moments not so strangled. Loren likely meant Abasi, or anyone else they’d had to leave behind. He wasn’t even sure he had notions of assuaging for the other man; tightening his jaw, straightening out his wings to hover. [say]I will[/say]; certainty, give and grant those instances and intervals before he couldn’t any longer.
RE: shrapnel - Loren - 02-18-2020
As Deimos' sorrow spilled over to Loren, he found himself instinctively flying away from the General. The healer had to force himself to bank back towards the other man. The Launceleyn's wings pumped furiously even if his own mind had grown dark and depressed as well.
For a long moment, he just let that be his response, a sort of sympathetic and understanding and matching sorrow. [say]You could practice on me.[/say] It came out hesitantly, the offer tenuous and fleeting. [say]I know we're not friends or close or anything, but sometimes that's better. Easier.[/say] Tilting his body and head slightly, he eyed Deimos, wondering what he'd make of Loren's suggestion.
RE: shrapnel - Deimos - 02-18-2020
Habits, despite his promise of trying, caged around him, struggled to maintain the semblance of striving, when all he’d like to do was succumb to ice and glaciers, to chilling voids. There was half a snort buried in his chest, because eagles lacked the capacity, and he didn’t funnel it through the attuned bonds, not wishing to laugh away the suggestion. It wasn’t fair, not when Loren was hurting and reaching out – attempting far greater than the Sword was. The sigh flickering through lacked its feral properties, just a subsequent turn of anguish and melancholy.
His piercing eyes flicked back to the goose; wings outstretched, plumage only ruffled by the breeze. [say]I appreciate your advice.[/say] A pause, a tilt of his head, as if studying, examining, the complexities, before trying to dive into some multitudes of humor; sadly lacking, pathetic in its intervals. [say]And willingness to get mauled during exhibitions.[/say]
RE: shrapnel - Loren - 02-18-2020
At Deimos' thanks, Loren stared steadily down at the dunes and the ocean far below. [say]You're welcome.[/say] It came out rather dully, since he felt he hadn't done anything particularly worthy of gratitude.
Looking up at the General's next comment, the healer let out a little honk. [say]Getting beat up is easy for me.[/say] It was clearly self-deprecating, but also clearly fairly true. He was more than willing to undergo any and all physical trauma the world threw at him.
It was the emotional tragedies that cut him the deepest.
As his thoughts took that particular dark turn, he found himself dropping a bit, his wings pumping more slowly. [say]Can I ask you something?[/say] It came out cautiously and tentatively, mostly because he wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask.