DEIMOS
Ignorant to the apprehension, there was only the slight sigh informing, obliging him with her foundations of trepidation – the missing pieces coming together. He hadn’t known any names attached to the Arbiter back when Hotaru had informed him of who’d struck the beloved companion down. Hadn’t been a witness. Hadn’t seen the crackle of lightning. Only the end results; Ru’s rage, striving to cull the murderer, and the General being made aware of the woman’s continued existence. The Torchline turnover, given to the women (Maeve, whom he’d never met) and Aurelia hadn’t struck him as anything more than a well-timed event. It might’ve made things easier had it taken place much, much sooner.
But with it all clambering to fruition, Deimos insinuated his own heavy, long-suffering sigh. “Aurelia? She was the one that killed Atlas?” Craving the confirmation on a wrinkle of his nose, on the furrowing of his brow, and the slight frown washing away any trace of prior humor. He hadn’t had any issue with her prior to the unfurling circumstances; they’d explored and trained together. She’d been strong and capable. He wasn’t sure what to think now – but maybe that could be said for him as well. He’d certainly disappointed many people.
He withheld the second sigh threatening to unwind from his chest, turning his sights back to obliterated pumpkins, dropping again when the assault gleaned from her bow. “Perhaps, though this is a precarious situation.” Having known the Valkyrie for two lifetimes, there was potential to go either way. They’d assembled politics in the blink of an eye, on the perils of war, setting differences off to embankments when necessary with other lands – but this was a far more fractured cause. “If they came to some terms, arrangements…,” the Sword shrugged, uncertainty in his bones. “But I will not speak for her.” Presumptions could only go so far.
Restless now, he lifted the gourds higher and higher, so they squawked when they neared the ceiling of the chamber, and then he brought them back down, as if they were riding along a breeze. On other notes and factions, he emblazoned another magic, sending a range of stones and rocks in bursting, contorting whims, laying waste to one pumpkin; decimating and flickering to pieces along the ground.
But with it all clambering to fruition, Deimos insinuated his own heavy, long-suffering sigh. “Aurelia? She was the one that killed Atlas?” Craving the confirmation on a wrinkle of his nose, on the furrowing of his brow, and the slight frown washing away any trace of prior humor. He hadn’t had any issue with her prior to the unfurling circumstances; they’d explored and trained together. She’d been strong and capable. He wasn’t sure what to think now – but maybe that could be said for him as well. He’d certainly disappointed many people.
He withheld the second sigh threatening to unwind from his chest, turning his sights back to obliterated pumpkins, dropping again when the assault gleaned from her bow. “Perhaps, though this is a precarious situation.” Having known the Valkyrie for two lifetimes, there was potential to go either way. They’d assembled politics in the blink of an eye, on the perils of war, setting differences off to embankments when necessary with other lands – but this was a far more fractured cause. “If they came to some terms, arrangements…,” the Sword shrugged, uncertainty in his bones. “But I will not speak for her.” Presumptions could only go so far.
Restless now, he lifted the gourds higher and higher, so they squawked when they neared the ceiling of the chamber, and then he brought them back down, as if they were riding along a breeze. On other notes and factions, he emblazoned another magic, sending a range of stones and rocks in bursting, contorting whims, laying waste to one pumpkin; decimating and flickering to pieces along the ground.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
