remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
The barracks were a balm in all the restless eaves tucked between his bones. The clatter of steel resounding, arrows notching, bowstrings taut, or the general cacophony of instructions shouted amidst maneuvering footwork was enough; something familiar, something resounding, something less trivial, more understandable. It etched the lines of his form and carved new foundations – swiftness and prevailing defenses, assaults and sieges, machinations and plots, pulled together to form muscle memory and new tiers, new legacies.Pulling his hair back into a messy fragment of a bun, he passed over each round of spars, one after the other, watching and informing. Warriors adjusted their stances or altered their line of sight, until targets were matched or training blades plunged – to either be followed by gritting teeth or resounding laughter.
And after motioning through he rotated again, until they’d all been subjected to some kind of education, and he’d burrowed his way over to an open section, taking a long, deep breath, and gazing towards newfound targets he’d placed upon pillars. A high target for anyone with a quiver, or perhaps air incantations – which he unleashed, warping and turning and twisting them until they were more than puffs of the elements around them, surging and searing towards the looming effigies.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
