and the only solution was to stand and fight
Given that Deimos had been in their warpath, and part of the teams purposefully waylaying the individuals at opportunities, he could nod and appreciate the sentiment. “Agreed.” He’d taken the precautions, ensuring the Citadel wasn’t a target of their constituents and Family-based affiliations, but even then, there’d always been the multitudes of threats across other regions, or even the Tundra once more. At some point, eventually, he’d likely be able to think of them without the impending dread or trepidation, but it’d be a while yet, immersed in some sort of repose and peace for more than a few weeks.
He figured the dragons would make an impact, but he’d been truthful – in the course of history at his disposal and experience, beyond their own kind, those semblances of creatures had been the most destructive. Not to say they hadn’t deserved the damnation thrust upon them, they’d gone looking for that exact trouble, but the trauma laden around it had been something not easily spun away. Zuriel snorted and he countered with a vague wrinkle to his nose, as if trying to put it out of his mind. “A decent conclusion,” he offered at first, tossing more kindling portions into the sled and then moving it upwards again, spying another log laying in the distance, long since fallen. “Probably both. I do not think any of us knew what we were getting into. Dragons then had been nothing but those stories.” At least to Grounders and Outlanders, ignorant to the tales outside of three-hundred-year-old barriers, or in his case, uncertain about the inconsistency of such parameters and tales. It’d been a vicious, harsh, and unrelenting lesson.
Though, he didn’t quite expect the question – thinking the insinuations of horrors and terrors were enough. Reliving the notions made his jaw clench, eyes flickering upwards over the plain of woods and snow, streams and valleys, with a long-drawn sigh and as little words as possible. “Lost two of our friends and their companions.” Four deaths in a series of moments, there one instant and gone the next – Amalia’s sudden stillness, his shield ensuring the rest of them lived – his gaze narrowed, and then he took some longer strides, using the log as a distraction.
He figured the dragons would make an impact, but he’d been truthful – in the course of history at his disposal and experience, beyond their own kind, those semblances of creatures had been the most destructive. Not to say they hadn’t deserved the damnation thrust upon them, they’d gone looking for that exact trouble, but the trauma laden around it had been something not easily spun away. Zuriel snorted and he countered with a vague wrinkle to his nose, as if trying to put it out of his mind. “A decent conclusion,” he offered at first, tossing more kindling portions into the sled and then moving it upwards again, spying another log laying in the distance, long since fallen. “Probably both. I do not think any of us knew what we were getting into. Dragons then had been nothing but those stories.” At least to Grounders and Outlanders, ignorant to the tales outside of three-hundred-year-old barriers, or in his case, uncertain about the inconsistency of such parameters and tales. It’d been a vicious, harsh, and unrelenting lesson.
Though, he didn’t quite expect the question – thinking the insinuations of horrors and terrors were enough. Reliving the notions made his jaw clench, eyes flickering upwards over the plain of woods and snow, streams and valleys, with a long-drawn sigh and as little words as possible. “Lost two of our friends and their companions.” Four deaths in a series of moments, there one instant and gone the next – Amalia’s sudden stillness, his shield ensuring the rest of them lived – his gaze narrowed, and then he took some longer strides, using the log as a distraction.
DEIMOS
