DEIMOS
His eyes narrowed briefly, stepping back only slightly to watch her; studying, scrutinizing, all the unsaid actions and the weight lingering underneath. This was an alteration from her original facets – either in stunned proportions or a new bout of growth; branches, brambles, and stems shooting anew from portions cut and slashed. But Ru didn’t typically go for safer options. She was brimstone and fury, maelstroms and tempests. And sometimes she hid, laid low for spells, until strength resurged and she found another bout of momentum for the churning, burning haze. Her edges presently didn’t have their malicious hinges and fringes, and he could see where the wounds festered amongst and amidst the indecision. A learning curve for all, perhaps, to not see the clarity after the dust settled; a path not so concise, pinpointed, or secure. It’d been easier in some of their pasts. Overthrowing corrupted officials. Biding time in exile. Fiendishly plucking away at enemy defenses until moments were right, sure, and certain.
The Sword had rarely been without a plan, but he couldn’t decipher and enable one for the Valkyrie. He had every hope and thought that she’d do just that – whether it be through desert means or something else caught and snagged, a piece for her to have and hold and cherish that didn’t seem so transient and temporary.
He smiled nonetheless, gave a small bout of laughter at her notion of never playing advisor. “You likely have so many times before, you hardly noticed.” They all gave and granted advice in some capacity. “All depends on if you are willing to impart more of your wisdom,” at that he wrinkled his nose, because even that would be quite a sojourn, “and if she wants to listen.”
The other implications of Sunjata though left some dirges behind. Precarious truces. Notions on asking Frey, and the lack of trust in making such a decision. He took another long breath, permitting his glance to go elsewhere, across horizons and pools, before settling back to her features, glancing downward and tilting his head. Ru’s decisions had sometimes been for love and for pieces she’d desperately yearned and craved, and then others had seemingly been in those avaricious, impulsive glows. They’d all had them – but somehow hers had become tangible and mercurial so often it was difficult to tell what truly embossed and embedded. He could feel that cluster of emotions bridging there – a cloak and a dagger in its own right. “Caido seems to have a way of making us all feel like that, at one point or another.” Gods knew he’d made his litany of mistakes. “But you should give yourself the chance to try again.” If that was with the desert, Frey, or something else.
Though her last response had him snorting, loudly. “Gods forbid you ever get bored,” and he playfully tweaked her nose, meant to break apart that light shrug and mask threatening to compose itself again. “And who said you had to do it by yourself?”
The Sword had rarely been without a plan, but he couldn’t decipher and enable one for the Valkyrie. He had every hope and thought that she’d do just that – whether it be through desert means or something else caught and snagged, a piece for her to have and hold and cherish that didn’t seem so transient and temporary.
He smiled nonetheless, gave a small bout of laughter at her notion of never playing advisor. “You likely have so many times before, you hardly noticed.” They all gave and granted advice in some capacity. “All depends on if you are willing to impart more of your wisdom,” at that he wrinkled his nose, because even that would be quite a sojourn, “and if she wants to listen.”
The other implications of Sunjata though left some dirges behind. Precarious truces. Notions on asking Frey, and the lack of trust in making such a decision. He took another long breath, permitting his glance to go elsewhere, across horizons and pools, before settling back to her features, glancing downward and tilting his head. Ru’s decisions had sometimes been for love and for pieces she’d desperately yearned and craved, and then others had seemingly been in those avaricious, impulsive glows. They’d all had them – but somehow hers had become tangible and mercurial so often it was difficult to tell what truly embossed and embedded. He could feel that cluster of emotions bridging there – a cloak and a dagger in its own right. “Caido seems to have a way of making us all feel like that, at one point or another.” Gods knew he’d made his litany of mistakes. “But you should give yourself the chance to try again.” If that was with the desert, Frey, or something else.
Though her last response had him snorting, loudly. “Gods forbid you ever get bored,” and he playfully tweaked her nose, meant to break apart that light shrug and mask threatening to compose itself again. “And who said you had to do it by yourself?”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
