[SWE] Into the Cloister

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts Between every other event circumventing the world, he’d almost forgotten about the one he’d signed up for. It seemed almost miniscule in effect, but he rendered himself ready regardless; taking to the autumn chill with his collection of swords and knives on his belt, invocations and enchantments simmering in his skin. A beast, a warrior, a monster, eager and fervent for the chaos, the unknown, to come their way – used to it, familiar with its potency, with its precision, with its art. Zuriel stepped beside him as they traced grounds he’d known what felt like months before, the rockslide evident along the Drop, catering to hollowed hell and bits of treacherous memories scathing within, how he’d nearly died there too – a pattern he really should’ve ceased repeating so often. They proceeded down and down, into a cavern, and the splintering images of the past slid against his spine. He clenched his jaw, but said, uttered nothing; the unicorn already knew what was in his head. She said naught either, two beings tracing over a network of sentiments, nuances, and possibilities. The latter was endless and eternal. Then they maneuvered in front of a stone door, carved, sculpted, shaped like old ruins and quiet devastation – and he wondered if this was to be a colosseum, a place where everyone was entertained by whatever came upon them, by whatever menace or might shattered the realm. It was like a battlefield. He could hear his heart hammering into drum beats and havoc. He could feel his predilections simmering, seething, smoldering between veins, marrow, and bone. The infidel inhaled one sharpened breath, glanced to Zuriel, and nodded as the aperture beckoned, sliding up, up, up, revealing everything and nothing all at once. the last of a line of lasts