DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
It was messy, the great, gaping unknown, where there were things he’d had and conjured and thought for eternity, only to be ripped away from him in the blink of an eye. It was what had always buffeted and instigated his actions along the Basin – fear of loss, of more and more and more kin and country flickering and falling apart – the close-knit ties all unraveled and falling to nothing but mere, forgotten strands. He watched the birds continue their search, another sigh broadening and unleashed from his chest, Amalia’s confidence the only thing he could rely upon.
He didn’t want to go to the Guild though – not without Zuriel.
The Sword’s jaw clenched once more, fighting the onslaught of stubborn, obstinate, tenacity pulsing and pervading through his form. Jigano having the staff was another series of vexations, the frustration rampaging along his blood, his form, his outreach. But he couldn’t do anything here, not now, not beleaguering efforts or contemplating some other indistinct action honed in repressed anger and exasperation. We can try was all he could conjure or give, attempting to snag some calmer waves, striving to occupy the space of composure Amalia and Jyoti seemed intent to reel him within. He glanced over his massive shoulders, awaiting for them to follow as he padded along, movement and motion better for him than stewing and brooding.
He didn’t want to go to the Guild though – not without Zuriel.
The Sword’s jaw clenched once more, fighting the onslaught of stubborn, obstinate, tenacity pulsing and pervading through his form. Jigano having the staff was another series of vexations, the frustration rampaging along his blood, his form, his outreach. But he couldn’t do anything here, not now, not beleaguering efforts or contemplating some other indistinct action honed in repressed anger and exasperation. We can try was all he could conjure or give, attempting to snag some calmer waves, striving to occupy the space of composure Amalia and Jyoti seemed intent to reel him within. He glanced over his massive shoulders, awaiting for them to follow as he padded along, movement and motion better for him than stewing and brooding.
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
