DEIMOS
Loren apparently enjoyed talking in circles, but Deimos did not – not a being to procure words and arguments simply for the sake of expelling them out into the open. By the time the fellow Abandoned had supplied the latest tendencies in martial prowess, the Sword had been finished with that portion of conversation, too tired of mulling around the differing expressions for the same exact thing. He shook his head and simply said naught more on the matter, his investments and predilections reserved for Long Night preparation (which shouldn’t have required a single act of violence; competency without some flames and fire). If some were inspired by their notions of protection and defensive measures, then so be it – they’d be free to join. If not, then recruitment and some other way of enticing fellow soldiers back into the fold could come in the spring, after recovering from ominous, foreboding doom and gloom.
Discussions with Wessex would be forthcoming (noticeable absent in the discourse was Ronin – likely blighted and meandering down a far different path, which made him clench his jaw again, the notions of their failure with the plants a harsh course of reality once more – that sometimes, no matter what they did, they’d been damned from the start). At least he could concur on the soon portions. “Agreed.” His eyes fell to the ground again, mind already scheming and reeling on the contortions and measurements – needing to discuss possibilities of the Artisan’s Guild with Remi, ensuring there were multiple places for everyone to go, feel safe, tucked away, out of harm’s clutches. They couldn’t have a repeat of last year.
More discussion of the blighted circumstances had him immersed in fraying multitudes. On one hand, the diseased were an absolute danger upon society: scalding, hunting, preying upon those with roses (or simply cherished beings). On the other, it wasn’t so simple when they were compositions of their own flesh, blood, and family, beneath the layers of pestilence. What was to become of them when the disease grew even more rampant? Would they damn everyone else too? Was oblivion simply around the corner, and their efforts would be in vain? And how coldblooded did it make them, to be promising imprisonment? He sighed, a sign of his misgivings, as his gaze settled back upon Loren. “It is worth a try.” They had so few options as it was. “At least in the prison, we could ensure their safety and ours. Someone could feed them, give them water…” Lock them in a cage. He shuddered. “But would they be safe during the Long Night? Would the monsters come for them too?” Or would they be a part of the mass, the multitude, the hungry, clinging, bestial disasters?
Discussions with Wessex would be forthcoming (noticeable absent in the discourse was Ronin – likely blighted and meandering down a far different path, which made him clench his jaw again, the notions of their failure with the plants a harsh course of reality once more – that sometimes, no matter what they did, they’d been damned from the start). At least he could concur on the soon portions. “Agreed.” His eyes fell to the ground again, mind already scheming and reeling on the contortions and measurements – needing to discuss possibilities of the Artisan’s Guild with Remi, ensuring there were multiple places for everyone to go, feel safe, tucked away, out of harm’s clutches. They couldn’t have a repeat of last year.
More discussion of the blighted circumstances had him immersed in fraying multitudes. On one hand, the diseased were an absolute danger upon society: scalding, hunting, preying upon those with roses (or simply cherished beings). On the other, it wasn’t so simple when they were compositions of their own flesh, blood, and family, beneath the layers of pestilence. What was to become of them when the disease grew even more rampant? Would they damn everyone else too? Was oblivion simply around the corner, and their efforts would be in vain? And how coldblooded did it make them, to be promising imprisonment? He sighed, a sign of his misgivings, as his gaze settled back upon Loren. “It is worth a try.” They had so few options as it was. “At least in the prison, we could ensure their safety and ours. Someone could feed them, give them water…” Lock them in a cage. He shuddered. “But would they be safe during the Long Night? Would the monsters come for them too?” Or would they be a part of the mass, the multitude, the hungry, clinging, bestial disasters?
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
