I carried my own ashes to the mountains
It was a trio across the Tundra in the morning; the Sword desperate to find his routines again after most of the season spent elsewhere. Plotlines and plans were a necessary framework, but so was tending to his own region, and by the time he’d settled back into the Siberian bliss, the restlessness urged him onward, across the plains of ice, rime, and snow, head upwards to the wind; embracing the hardened angles of his favored world. Beautiful, treacherous, and illustrious, a fitting backdrop to every single damned thing over the last several cycles and revolutions.
Zuriel and Belial lingered alongside; the unicorn snorting when they eventually found themselves directly outside the Citadel walls, conversing with trackers and what they’d seen over the horizons for the past few days. The latter opted to linger upwards, chasing the breeze as his wings unfurled and he screeched overhead – a welcome lookout, and clearly spotting someone in the distance.
Zuriel and Belial lingered alongside; the unicorn snorting when they eventually found themselves directly outside the Citadel walls, conversing with trackers and what they’d seen over the horizons for the past few days. The latter opted to linger upwards, chasing the breeze as his wings unfurled and he screeched overhead – a welcome lookout, and clearly spotting someone in the distance.
DEIMOS
