seas the day

DEIMOS

the resurrected sword

Watching as Erebos listened, sometimes far better than the soldiers in his command, Deimos gave a light snort, letting the snowflakes chase after their compatriots as the same elements bolstered and heightened. Only when his had potentially surrounded the tight cluster of frozen particles did he ease up, brow arching at the inquiry. “Depends. You are young, and if you just came to master it, you may have anywhere from a few minutes to a couple of hours at a time.” The Sword knew the aspects of limitations too, had felt them pulse and twitch down into his very soul like moments in the Spire, back when everything felt far too new and he’d wanted to do so much more than his form had been capable of. While it wasn’t a problem now, for him, he knew he’d have to keep a careful watch on his son, and many others, who yearned and craved to unfurl until they couldn’t anymore. It was important to know when to stop, and when to go; and hopefully they all understood those aspects well before danger and destruction were near.

Making a corporeal, watery snare around the miniature ramparts, he mused, nose wrinkling slightly. “And what you are using it for. Times like these, it probably does not drain you too much. In battle, while wielding it against enemies and striving for damage? Takes a lot more concentration, focus, and drive.” Until his fortitude and endurance could holster and bolster.

The mere thought of his son ever being in that sort of situation chafed and ground at him too; because he knew better. That was how Caido was. But he didn’t want the youth to end up in a situation like Ru’s son, Enzo, obliterated, a spark gone out before the flame even had a chance.

under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed