Damien
you are the storm before the calm
and the ache after the silence
and the ache after the silence
Aria didn’t hesitate once Deimos took her—her body went loose and comfortable in his massive hands, like she’d already decided he was safe. She climbed up his chest with surprising confidence, tail curling for balance, and pressed herself into the breadth of his shoulder. For a moment she nestled against the warm line of his neck, small purr rumbling like a distant storm. Then curiosity got the better of her. She mouthed at the edges of his hair, caught a strand of beard in her tiny teeth—and immediately jerked back with a disgusted shake of her head, sneezing once for good measure.
Damien tried not to laugh, but his eyes softened at the sight. It struck him that Aria had no hesitation with this man, where she might’ve clawed at another. That kind of instinct counted for something.
His gaze shifted, sharpening as Deimos spoke of Zuriel’s origins. The stripped-down words, the blade, the torn arm—it all set itself in Damien’s head with stark clarity. He tried to imagine it: blood on the ground, a landshark’s teeth closing fast, and a unicorn—proud and untouchable—choosing to bow her head for a man who’d thrown himself between her and death. A trade. A bond. One saved, one savior, and the line between them blurred into something deeper.
Damien’s mouth pulled tight, thoughtful. “Makes sense,” he said finally. “You saved her, so she saved you. A debt paid both ways.” He paused, thumb brushing along the cuff of his jacket as if worrying over an old seam. “More honest than the way most bonds are made.”
The weight of it settled in him, and he glanced at Aria curled along Deimos’ shoulder, her bright eyes half-lidded with drowsy trust. Frey’s task wasn’t just about proving himself to a god. It was also about proving himself to her. To earn her loyalty the way Deimos had earned Zuriel’s—not through luck, not through entitlement, but through survival shared.
His voice dropped, quiet but certain. “Seems right, that it’d take something like that. But.. worth it.”
For a few quiet heartbeats, he turned and observed the palace walls and windows before them. He could spot a few areas in need of some TLC, and wondered aloud, "So, where would you like to start?"
Damien tried not to laugh, but his eyes softened at the sight. It struck him that Aria had no hesitation with this man, where she might’ve clawed at another. That kind of instinct counted for something.
His gaze shifted, sharpening as Deimos spoke of Zuriel’s origins. The stripped-down words, the blade, the torn arm—it all set itself in Damien’s head with stark clarity. He tried to imagine it: blood on the ground, a landshark’s teeth closing fast, and a unicorn—proud and untouchable—choosing to bow her head for a man who’d thrown himself between her and death. A trade. A bond. One saved, one savior, and the line between them blurred into something deeper.
Damien’s mouth pulled tight, thoughtful. “Makes sense,” he said finally. “You saved her, so she saved you. A debt paid both ways.” He paused, thumb brushing along the cuff of his jacket as if worrying over an old seam. “More honest than the way most bonds are made.”
The weight of it settled in him, and he glanced at Aria curled along Deimos’ shoulder, her bright eyes half-lidded with drowsy trust. Frey’s task wasn’t just about proving himself to a god. It was also about proving himself to her. To earn her loyalty the way Deimos had earned Zuriel’s—not through luck, not through entitlement, but through survival shared.
His voice dropped, quiet but certain. “Seems right, that it’d take something like that. But.. worth it.”
For a few quiet heartbeats, he turned and observed the palace walls and windows before them. He could spot a few areas in need of some TLC, and wondered aloud, "So, where would you like to start?"
