Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
The inevitable seared and simmered with warrior footfalls and militia endeavors. These were not his usual modes; his preference was laden on battlefields with scorched earths and swinging blades, with swords thrust into chests, with armor brandished across shoulders, with glory and triumph sizzling in their minds, with catacombs and sepulchers behind them, awaiting the ominous depths of their pulsing, pervading predilections. Instead of bestial wrath and clinging abhorrence, instead of vehemence and contempt, there was only the notion of the warrant in his pockets, the Queen’s scrawl of detailed offenses and crimes, and a calm, composed motion from the General – as if he were composed, sculpted, and carved from steel, from iron, forged from the ramparts of fortifications of ice, living, breathing weaponry and upheaval, now only gone to spread a sovereign’s sedition.
Between his calculating efforts and Machiavellian irreverence, he could understand both sides of the situation. For whatever reasons or motives Roana had surmised, the comprehension was clear as to why she’d been seeking to prey upon the Ascended: the rumors had been heightened and slashing through the tides of frustration when the blighted individuals grew steadily worse, pinpointed on the particular species. Had it been to cease the torment? Had it been to punish those believed to have spread the pestilence, to have caused so much hurt, harm, and despondency across their grounds? The woman had seemingly always been a person surmised in action; but some had consequences. Unfortunately for her, Wessex, an Ascended, was in power, contorted and controlled the throne, and had reasons to surmise the impending arrest – protecting her people, her kin, her comrades. Rexanna was amongst and amidst those too – extended family for the Sword. Though he knew she could take care of herself, and quite well, a portion of it rankled in his skin, in his flesh, in his blood.
So he chose no side but the document and writ along his person, the necessity and notions collected in their movements. The beast’s stare settled on Loren briefly, conducting some sort of plan in his skull along the way. Deimos was already aware of Roana’s weapon, capable of taking his Life Drain enchantments and riddling them in a reverse of power and prowess; there would have to be other measures taken if worse came to worse. He swallowed his sigh too, as they strode closer and closer to the house, to children likely playing within, to pieces and portions of life he didn’t think he’d have to encounter again. With another glance to Loren, upon their ascent to her doorstep, he raised his fist and rapped his knuckles along the aperture.
Between his calculating efforts and Machiavellian irreverence, he could understand both sides of the situation. For whatever reasons or motives Roana had surmised, the comprehension was clear as to why she’d been seeking to prey upon the Ascended: the rumors had been heightened and slashing through the tides of frustration when the blighted individuals grew steadily worse, pinpointed on the particular species. Had it been to cease the torment? Had it been to punish those believed to have spread the pestilence, to have caused so much hurt, harm, and despondency across their grounds? The woman had seemingly always been a person surmised in action; but some had consequences. Unfortunately for her, Wessex, an Ascended, was in power, contorted and controlled the throne, and had reasons to surmise the impending arrest – protecting her people, her kin, her comrades. Rexanna was amongst and amidst those too – extended family for the Sword. Though he knew she could take care of herself, and quite well, a portion of it rankled in his skin, in his flesh, in his blood.
So he chose no side but the document and writ along his person, the necessity and notions collected in their movements. The beast’s stare settled on Loren briefly, conducting some sort of plan in his skull along the way. Deimos was already aware of Roana’s weapon, capable of taking his Life Drain enchantments and riddling them in a reverse of power and prowess; there would have to be other measures taken if worse came to worse. He swallowed his sigh too, as they strode closer and closer to the house, to children likely playing within, to pieces and portions of life he didn’t think he’d have to encounter again. With another glance to Loren, upon their ascent to her doorstep, he raised his fist and rapped his knuckles along the aperture.
DEIMOS
