DEIMOS & KIADA
your name will be known
a promise, a dare
Oh, he wouldn’t need to be reminded about the Greatwood misadventures – loss and treachery had a way of carving its exploits into his skull. This didn’t need to be an act of impulsivity – he’d never been entirely drawn to those aspects. It could be emboldened, it could be chaotic, it could be orchestrated with Machiavellian tendencies in mind, given time, given resources, given known contortions. Perhaps a portion of him simply wanted to savor the land outside those portal halls and mystic void, appreciated clarity out of the darker fumes and plumes; a promise, a conviction, a certainty, a platitude, that had served them well before, before, before. Before Kiada was born. Before Hotaru had traced over the Aurora Basin. When they’d lost the Edge, when his violence wasn’t enough, when walls were toppled and the moon-lands were no longer theirs, when they spent their winter as refugees within the Steppe, biding the hours, rattling at bones. He was patient. He was calculating. He was every bit the Reaper in those infernal moments, the beast who swarmed grounds of infidels and fiends and learned exactly what it meant to wait, to wait, to wait, for the right opportunity, the right moment, to strike, to unfurl, to unleash.
Not forever. I would like to see them try.
Maybe it was an eventuality. Maybe they would sear and smolder, brew and brood, beneath the halls, corridors, and summits that weren’t theirs. It wouldn’t be the Basin, it wouldn’t be the auroras, cast in gradient lights. It wouldn’t be the twin monoliths, staring down intruders at the borders. It wouldn’t be the unfreezing lake, a refuge even in the harshest of glacial voids and winds. It wouldn’t be the hot springs, a world of soothing, assuaging tones over maimed muscles and rippling scars.
But the resurgence of predacious smirks, of minatory endeavors, was enough – a recollection so deep in the pit and pendulums of his memories, renewed, reborn, in the pinnacles of his nefarious, avaricious mind. “So we shall see,” he commented, because they would, they would, they would.
Not forever. I would like to see them try.
Maybe it was an eventuality. Maybe they would sear and smolder, brew and brood, beneath the halls, corridors, and summits that weren’t theirs. It wouldn’t be the Basin, it wouldn’t be the auroras, cast in gradient lights. It wouldn’t be the twin monoliths, staring down intruders at the borders. It wouldn’t be the unfreezing lake, a refuge even in the harshest of glacial voids and winds. It wouldn’t be the hot springs, a world of soothing, assuaging tones over maimed muscles and rippling scars.
But the resurgence of predacious smirks, of minatory endeavors, was enough – a recollection so deep in the pit and pendulums of his memories, renewed, reborn, in the pinnacles of his nefarious, avaricious mind. “So we shall see,” he commented, because they would, they would, they would.
they'll speak of my name,
of my battles and wars
but here's the thing,
what's my name without yours?
