habits have teeth and words have knives

Change everything you are and everything you were

Your number has been called

Perhaps she’d known it was coming, one of those unavoidable tangents thorned into her motivations and aspirations. Under a different sovereign, maybe it would’ve gone ignored; much like some of Helovians and their antics, sometimes events gone by the wayside, either by political maneuvers or used as means for diplomatic dramatics. Where there’d been theater in some of the dimensions, it wasn’t lingering here, and he was surprised to find Roana accepting of her charges, of the pending imprisonment. She didn’t shake. She didn’t fumble. She didn’t quiver. The beast respected the threshold of composure, indicated a modicum of respect for the gestures, listening to her quip about Wessex. It was an intriguing bit of knowledge; he hadn’t known the Wraith had once absconded the massive claymore, but it would grant and explain the undercurrent of abhorrence and contempt the women had for one another. “Understood,” nodding again in acknowledgment, easygoing compliance, potent and powerful measures longing to be kept out of an adversary's hands. He didn’t mire himself in the murky currents, and Loren offered to take the blade, so they waited for the agreement, for the passing of wares and munitions. If necessary, Deimos could provide the fellow militia man with a bag to carry the weaponry and anything else she was required to hand over for a time.

The beast glanced at the trio of boys again when Loren called to them, waiting to see their reactions, not intending to draw their mother into handcuffs or gesture for her to maneuver towards the prison in their sights. It was a waiting game, but he could appreciate the nuances of calm, the acceptance, the tolerance, the lack of melodrama.

DEIMOS