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[se] in the ink - Deimos - 03-23-2021
Clarity and respite, intentions on wings and parallels to coast amongst and amidst the fronds of jungles, over and along the ripple of canopies, through portals and distinction, exploration simply for the sake of knowing, of knowledge, of wisdom of the open world. Why had they been sent elsewhere before? What had caused the abrupt alteration? Had it occurred to anyone else?
And besides – the lure of mist was almost too much.
On the rapture and reverie of his plumage, the beast stared down. The fog made it difficult to parse through what lingered below, and coerced, concocted memories of other worlds. Other facets lost. Other distinctions, a forest lined and edged with an abyss, clifftops carved out of roughened seas – transitory homes and refuges, glass and moons, and more things that couldn’t, wouldn’t last. And his avian eyes narrowed at the thought, because it was a tiring, looming sort of nuance, and he wasn’t here for that train of logic.
So the eagle drifted down, down, down, until the haze revealed and unfurled ground along its embankments, and he could land, still incapable of seeing the great mass and how far it lingered. Until the ocean? A pond? A lake? The uncertainty encouraged and compelled a movement forward, but for now, he shifted back into his human form, gazing out over the water.
RE: [se] in the ink - Nate - 03-23-2021
Nate’s been walking for far too long, and it’s only at this point that he thinks he maybe should have left a note. Should have left some indication that he hadn’t simply reached the end of his rope and disappeared.
Well, it was too late now.
The haze of mist pointed a lonely portrait, isolating the banks of the lake. It had to be a lake, right? Too large for a pond, but Nate knew he was miles from the ocean still. Miles from another soul, as far as he was aware. It was peaceful, in the kind of way where it had no choice but to be peaceful, and for a single, blessed moment, Nate could pretend he was the only soul left on this cursed place.
The thought was easy, and ruined quite spectacularly by a bug, flitting too close to his face. He lifts a hand to shop it away, only to be met by another, and another. Wings pulse around him, shades of red, of deep blues, and he finally voices his frustration with a loud [say]”Fuck off!”[/say], the words doing nothing to deter the pests.
RE: [se] in the ink - Deimos - 03-23-2021
Alone; and at peace with the solitude. Deimos had spent years of intentional isolation – in and amongst his emotions, his plots, his schemes, well before arriving in Caido, and had since then been surrounded by individuals, dramatics, and his own interplay of hellish foundations. No companions, left at home to watch over the barracks, no friends near, nothing and no one to bother, he’d be permitted to at least settle in amongst the doldrums and contemplate his next course of actions.
Which he might’ve actually done, had a string of curses not volleyed and buoyed around the atmosphere. He paused for a moment in his direction, brow furrowing, then arching, but with the fog and mist distorting decibels, sounds, and nuances, the monolith couldn’t properly navigate where or who it was coming from. If it was a threat. If it was something else entirely.
Within a breath, the Sword hastened and parted the labyrinthine qualities of the mist, contorting the Air mastery with ease, watching and waiting for something, someone, to appear through the proportions.
What he didn’t expect to find was Nate of all people, along another portion of the embankments, yards upon yards away, fending off a sudden deluge of what appeared to be very brightly hued flies.
Deimos couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was so absurd and so stupid and so ridiculous that there was a moment of amusement contorted through his chest, exuding out over the rest of the billowing, murky haze. Between everything else occurring, including the recent news of Ru’s involvement with the latest Torchline drama, he wouldn’t know how to best approach the newest Voice demigod. So perhaps a round of exuberance was necessary. Eventually, when he could cease for a second to actually speak, the beast rumbled out a call over the void. [say]“Problem?”[/say]
RE: [se] in the ink - Nate - 03-24-2021
Every time he goes and tries to drown himself in solitude, he’s interrupted. Every time. Nate had hoped maybe the flies would be the only bother he’d have to face this time, not no, he can’t ever be lucky. At the least the figure that looms out of the wall of mist is familiar. Though, actually, that might make all of this worse.
The rumbling laughter definitely makes things worse, Nate’s cloud of flies flaring the scarlet that his face can’t, even as it contorts and seethes. [say]”I’m glad someone’s having fucking fun!”[/say] The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, Nate a flurry of shooing hands and clenching fists, trying in vain once more to scare away the insects.
Problem? Now it’s Nate’s turn to laughs long and loud and discordant. There’s not an ounce of joy in the sound, nothing but hard lines in his face. [say]”I have nothing but!”[/say] He manages to spit after a moment, anger on his face, though it’s not pointed towards Deimos. It just exists, wafting off him in waves.
RE: [se] in the ink - Deimos - 03-24-2021
It probably hadn’t been morally or ethically right to have a good laugh at Nate and his ridiculous predicament, but the image had been too amusing to hasten off. Deimos, with his multiple lifetimes of constant, unwinding issues could relate in some regard; but not in the current spectacle of what the fledgling demigod had encountered. Not in the same array of betrayal and deceit. The Sword knew heartbreak and abandonment, but these cords weren’t in that particular vein – not as Hotaru had described it.
So he tilted his head vaguely as Nate continued to strive warding off the insects, hastening a light shrug at the plight of the swarm; bemused likely for all the wrong reasons. Taking pity on the man for the moment, and for multitudes of things, the General reached deep into his Attuned fixtures. Recalling the way he’d insinuated and hissed at bats, at ursurs, he attempted the same with the unknown flies; a deep, ominous warning flooding through his system, through his soul, and intermingling with their senses. Leave was the only indication they’d receive.
On the shout though, he arched a brow, glanced at the hardening lines on the other man’s features. Each one could probably be harkened back to Sunjata – or it was Deimos’ own bias and animosity towards the latter forming a stronger tether. [say]“So I have heard,”[/say] and he maintained his position on the embankment, uncertain where else to go from here. His anger, vexation, and indignation were solely reserved for the Flood, and not on this individual. The tones were flat, indicating neutrality on his part, save for Hotaru’s inclinations on the subject, and the bias from years and seasons before. So instead of advancing, intruding, he crouched down, eyes downcast, inspecting the water.
RE: [se] in the ink - Nate - 03-25-2021
There’s no reason to think he’s left alone because of Deimos. Maybe the fucking flies just got sick of his flailing, maybe they had gotten their fill of whatever it was they were leeching off him. Maybe they’d be back, with more.
[say]”You have?”[/say] Again, Nate tries and fails to keep all of the edge out of his voice. His one good eye narrows at Deimos, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. Of course the Sword had heard, why wouldn’t he have? Nate is dimly aware of the connection between him and Hotaru, though not enough to connect the two pieces together. His life is a fucking soap opera though, it only makes sense people know.
He doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to acknowledge it at all.
So he doesn’t. Instead, Nate heaves a sigh, enjoying the peace of his insect free life, and looks towards the water. Without warning, he crouches down, reaching blindly for a stone that he turns over in his hand. [say]”I uh, I owe you a thanks.”[/say] A free hand tugs at the jacket by way of explanation. [say]”Worked like a charm.”[/say] The rock is thrown out across the lake, skipping a handful of times before disappearing into the mist, even the sound fading eerily.
RE: [se] in the ink - Deimos - 03-25-2021
From his crouch and contemplation of the water, peering deeper into its depths by simple curiosity alone, his eyes lifted back up to survey the Ascended. He didn’t begrudge the fringes and boundaries laden in those tones, presumed there was a line being drawn in between where to go and what to say. A tangible, off-limits thread, unseen but hovering, there along the embankments. So he offered a single nod and word. [say]“Ru.”[/say] As if that would explain it, and be the end of it. Ru had found him. Ru had explained the saga. Ru had stayed, because he’d always offered a safety net, a shelter, a sanctuary, for those he held close. But it wouldn’t go any further from his mouth – harboring the secrets at least in Halo’s adornments. He could only imagine Torchline’s proclivity for gossip.
The alteration in subjects came soon enough, and on boyish inquiry, his hands sifted through stones and pebbles along the shore. Nearly a mimicy of Nate’s movements – perhaps worlds hadn’t been so far apart after all – following through on a game that required no forethought. Finding a particularly smooth one, he held it in his palm, adjusting it length-wise along his fingertips, until the callouses found the right path. Then he flung it, watching as it skipped along the veneer several times, before coming to fall below the surface. He waited for a moment, pondering if they’d disturbed something, if some newfound monster was going to rise from the brink, and when it remained vigilant and still, the Sword’s attention went back to Nate.
[say]“Good,”[/say] he surmised. [say]“At least something was beneficial.”[/say] His gaze narrowed, not at the demigod, but at the world in particular. Conversations with Wessex echoed in his mind, and he pushed them aside for all the exasperation and frustration warring away. [say]“The monsters are all defeated then?”[/say] Another rock, another stone, pooled across the surface, and dipped thereafter to find its cousin.
RE: [se] in the ink - Nate - 03-29-2021
Deimos is a hard man to read at the best of times, but right now Nate can’t be bothered to even put in the Fort to try. He just stares, blankly, angrily, first at the general, and then, as his ex lovers name slipped from the hulking man, out towards the water, his jaw feathering. [say]”Oh.”[/say] It’s all that leaves him, simple, heavy, but not quite as final as the nod that follows it. Nate bites back the urge to ask after her, to see if she’s alright. He knows the answer to that question, knows that it’s no, as surely as it’s his own answer.
Worrying about disturbing something is a foresight Nate doesn’t have the time for right now, not as he reaches to grab another stone and skip it along the water, along himself for a breath in the game. Perhaps, if he weren’t distracted by the words, by his slow turn towards the other man, sharp eyes would spot the slow bubbles breaking the surface of the water, but he’s already turned to offer Deimos a sharp, short grin. [say]”Do you uh, think I could ask another favour of you?”[/say] The question forces it’s way in between conversation beats, between the one levelled back at him.
A shrug rolls over his shoulders like water. [say]”As far as I know, we were successful.”[/say] Of course, he’d been busy around the time the Voice would have announced it, a fact that’s not really either here or there, that’s definitely not the other man’s business. [say]”I guess we won’t know for sure until next Longnight though.”[/say]
RE: [se] in the ink - Deimos - 03-29-2021
Nothing. No inquiring about her state. No questions about how she was fairing. It caused the General’s eyes to narrow, a dangerous effect, locking his jaw into place, sealing a sort of vehemence that had nowhere to go. His eyes went to the bubbles surfacing, breaking along the veneer, and instead of mentioning it, went about his own investigations, skipping another stone across the water, and watching as the pattern work seemed to follow the wayward rock.
Maybe Nate didn’t care. Maybe there were too many other things. Other notions. Other fabrications. Other weights.
He tried to not have the presumptions stick to his mind, but they curled and coiled just the same, especially along the tilt of his head as the Ascended asked for something else. [say]“Depends on what it is.”[/say] Neither a yes or a no; and he wasn’t inclined to make a decision based on current circumstances. There was also the semblance in the back of his mind, tired, so god damn tired, of giving himself away freely, as if the world expected it. Naught in return but the scrapings of some other infernal hatred and distaste.
That there was no formal announcement surrounding LongNight left him suspicious, and to the point where he was now a coiled, taut, unyielding monolith on the embankments; waiting for some other eventuality to arrive on the heels of disaster and mayhem.
RE: [se] in the ink - Nate - 03-31-2021
No, he doesn’t ask after Hotaru. It’s not surprising that she’s gone, that she’s made her way to Halo, of all places, and it’s enough for Nate that she’s apparently safe for the moment. She hadn’t said a word to him, not about actually leaving. Not before she did it. Just a message to be relayed through Sunjata. It was fine. He understood.
Nate sighs, and rubs at his face, not caring about the stone in his hand when he does it. It’s a small, smooth rock, and it’s not like he feels anything beyond a distant chill, and some damp. [say]”I need a diamond.”[/say] The rock is launched across the surface of the water, rising bubbles cutting off its skipping early, not that Nate notices, not now that he’s turned to face the other fully. [say]”Bout yay big?”[/say] He holds his hand up, fingers circled to show something the approximate size of an eyeball. [say]”I know you can make thing, and something like that only comes around once in a blue moon in the ah, markets.”[/say]
If there was anything more he could add about the fate of the Longnight monsters, he would. Hell, he wanted to know himself, and that specific frustration is clear on his face, in the sharp pinch of his brows and the sharper downturn of his lips. He had ended up somewhat occupied when dawn had broken again.
And apparently, that occupation is going to continue, the sound of something breaking the surface of the water catching Nate’s focus, though all he sees in the water is thick mist. There doesn’t even seem to be any ripples.
RE: [se] in the ink - Deimos - 03-31-2021
He needed a diamond. Knew Deimos could make things. It would be otherwise difficult to obtain.
Except it came across as so entitled, as if the Sword was apt to provide and preside simply because he could. Because materials and figments mattered. Because the Ascended required it. All these reasons, that frankly, in the midst of the mist and exasperation, didn’t matter to him in the least.
Why should he? Why should he continue to give and give and give and remain an empty vessel, while everyone else snagged and took and carried on? The General knew in some part it’d been his own fault too – for letting it go on for so long. For being that generous, tolerant beast, for being the one so easily tossed aside.
His features didn’t round into a sneer, didn’t refute any claims, didn’t distinguish in the hostility lingering in his bones; waiting for some ignition, for some kindling. [say]“For what?”[/say] The only markings of any change might’ve been the dangerous intonations, the rumbling going deeper, unfurled and unleashed from his chest while he stared out across the water.
Fading, only slightly, when the surface maneuvered and rippled, and he extended his Mastered Air out, permitting it to take the fog, and billow over to the edges, to reveal whatever creature had managed to manifest within the threshold.
RE: [se] in the ink - Nate - 04-02-2021
Nate resists the urge to cover up the shame of having to ask for something with irritation. It never works out in his favour, and something tells him that out of anyone, Deimos will not tolerate his bullshit. Swallowing and looking away, the doctor lets his gaze sink further into the ground, his voice rough and quiet when it comes. [say]”Need it for a new eye.”[/say] A simple explanation, followed by the loud clearing of his throat, Nate shifting and looking around. [say]”I’ll pay it back, somehow. Obviously.”[/say]
The mist doesn’t seem to draw so much as it solidifies, the graceful, spindly shape of a horse growing clear. The beast is a pale white, it’s mane and tail both matted and grey where they drag in the water below it. Pawing at the surface of the water with a leg that seems too soundly to support the weight of its body, the horse turns its head towards the pair of them on the shore, fathomless black eyes standing out among all the white.
RE: [se] in the ink - Deimos - 04-02-2021
A new eye.
How and when he’d lost it again didn’t bother the Sword; just the way everything had seemed to go about the asking. Payment in return. Obviously.
The monolith snorted, hands going back to stones, because the notion of swinging them back into the water were growing all the more. Calloused fingers gripped over one tightly, until he glanced over the shoreline and embankments, pondering how to best say no.
And when had that become so difficult for him? Not as the Reaper – who’d kept nearly everyone at bay with one god damned glance.
That he was exhausted from proffering and extending and offering until there was nothing in retribution? Until it was as if he owed them all the world? He ground his teeth together, a clench of his jaw, vision stuck to the pebbles at his feet while the fog billowed. [say]“There are gems in the Climb.”[/say] Nate could journey there, pluck them out of the walls as the General had done before. [say]“Then you would not owe anyone.”[/say]
Then he wouldn’t have to be pulled any further into whatever games this void was trying to play.
Eventually though, his gaze lifted back over to the water, and the image managing to reflect over the surface. A horse – but not like his favored companion – but something else entirely, born from the essence of the veneer with pale entities, black eyed and feral. And from being in this world for so long, the beast wasn’t even remotely surprised by the outcome. His features flattened, and another feral sigh whipped through. [say]“What do you suppose that is?”[/say] Waiting, on the bizarre eventuality, that it would either hasten towards them, regard their existence as a threat, and start another dangerous multitude.
RE: [se] in the ink - Nate - 04-05-2021
No good answer comes from so much silence, and this is no different. Though, something about it feels different, feels harsher, feels like maybe he's taking it more personally than he really should. [say]"The Climb, huh?"[/say] Nate laughs again, the sound nasally and cold, matching the hard set of his jaw. It's funny, right? A joke, from the normally stoic man, as much as it is a sound message. [say]"Don't you think it would just be easier to tell me to fuck off?"[/say] It would save a breath, at least, would have saved them from whatever it is Nate's mind has twisted the words into. [say]"Fuck, it'd be nicer than telling me to walk face-first into a fucking oven."[/say]
Fine, its fine, its all perfectly fine. He'll figure something else out, crash himself against softer walls to make himself whole again. Asking for help had been stupid anyway. A hand grips tighter around a rock, the last one he manages to whip across the surface of the water before some fresh horror emerges, the ascended too exhausted to even pretend to be surprised.
Leaning back on the bank, Nate drinks in the misty horse, the pale spectre of death, and sighs. [say]"It's obviously a horse."[/say] It's the simplest answer, he knows that, but the only one he can offer and still be right. The beast stamps a hoof towards them, clapping against the surface of the water and not leaving a ripple this time, though one does mar the surface of the water when it takes it's first step towards them.