[seasonal event] fell to the top

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

When opportunity came, the Reaper frequently dove straight into it, and with their recent excursion into the heart of the Fae village (and despite Delah’s incriminating, don’t you dare stares), he opted to make the most of it. Relief had scattered the remains of his vehemence, insolence, and abhorrence, and gave way to his meticulous inquiry and curiosity. He knew next to nothing about the Fae and their world, which made sense, given their duplicitous, specious designs (sacrifices, but with memories, not monsters, everything still and tranquil, as if naught had happened), because that was the way they’d orchestrated it. With their chance to skulk and slink around, however, he intended to soak up the nuances, the sentiments, the customs, and the culture; not to assimilate, but to know and understand, to try and comprehend the hows, whys, overriding the complexities of his form to simply resist, as he always did. It was a habit to rebel and seethe – it was a new thing to breathe in worlds and fathom their depths. A marketplace came into his view as he wandered, more meandering steps rather than his usual, menacing, minatory strides. He was intrigued by the river nearby at first, completely clear, rocks at the bottom, tranquil and serene, and then he swung his head to the hustle and bustle of the crowd. The stalls reminded him slightly of the Fiat Lux’s shops, but instead of a heady aroma of foods, there were glistening fabrics and jewelry lined up as wares. He didn’t get any closer, presuming his massive frame was a dead give-away that he didn’t belong (Outlander he would eternally be; no matter where he seemed to roam or go), and though he’d return a stare or two with his own piercing glance, there weren’t any intentions to antagonize in his stance. They were wandering notions, making careful, scrupulous notes in his memory, adding them to his schemes, ruses, and contemplations. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate