[RE] the bleak

Deimos the Reaper master of nothing place, of recoil and grace The call came, erupting over the sanction, and the unicorn followed, a creed, a conviction in her heart and lungs, pride and superiority a foregone conclusion, but not so readily apparent now. Not when she was needed, not when she was required. She moved on fluid shadows and intervals, a divine thing of the forest, of the wind, of the earth, pulsing and persisting her way through the eaves and corridors – the first stings of many causing the slightest widening of her brilliant, blue eyes, kneeling, kneeling, kneeling before the woman, horn extended, healing attributes bristling, trying. Deimos slid behind, at a greater distance – narrowing his eyes and wondering just how Roana was here, when he’d left her in a jail cell, when Loren was supposed to have been watching her, when the world tilted on its axis and split apart her screams. No words were necessary, not now.

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