after fury
what do you do
Solidified determination chiseled and churned its way through his lungs, through his bones, through his marrow, a formidable icy sanction sculpted on the schism of his fortitude. It was a tenacious fissure of resolution and purpose, a steadfast desire to not be useless and inept along the interludes of bedlam, repose, and chaos. Otherwise, the frustrations would remain paramount and complex in their rise, stifling into his throat and barreling within his chest, desperate to be productive in the straining wails of midnight mayhem. Because he wasn’t invited to go out into the gloom – not with Amalia, not with Kiada, not with any of the others who’d pressed convictions into the seams and strands of the forbidding, the ominous. He knew they were capable. He knew they were strong. He knew they were mighty, stalwart, and formidable; and for whatever reasons, they’d deigned he stay behind.
It hadn’t been the same in Helovia. He’d been on the frontlines, leading charges, brandishing blades and roaring into the maelstroms, potent, inveigling, deadly, and lethal. Perhaps he was less now, and they could see it, could sense it, not enough, not enough, not enough the constant anthem in his mind.
But he could do something other than soak his vexation, ire, and ineffectual accord into the threshold. The Sword had chosen a table close to some of the blackened windows, along the fanning flames of hearths and flickering candelight, Zuriel nearby, waiting in the wings for the inevitable. Power seared and snapped, like a crackling, gilded plume along his hands, rapidly releasing upon his request, upon his urgency, upon his need for power – it rushed and exalted, more and more and more, and his brows furrowed briefly, at the notion, at the ability he suddenly had. When had everything changed?
In his palms rested a charm, another starlit wonder to add to Amalia’s necklace – but adorned along its surface were pieces of constellations and argent awe, magic coiled in its sanction, far better, far brighter, than any other pieces he’d concocted.
with the remains?
DEIMOS
