that bashes and breaks you

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

Considering how often Deimos was readily ignored by gods as a whole, he had no place to put thought and machinations into their ruminations and patterns – accepting the quest with only the Shield in mind. Were it another, besides Safrin, he might have been hesitant, but he sincerely doubted the being had any harmful inclinations towards one she considered her own. He on the other hand might not be so fortunate, but he’d cross that bridge if and when it came. His brow arched a fraction upon Jigano’s inspection of the jar, giving pause to the notion of more magical artifacts and the possibilities reigning from within. A container to ensure something remained fresh likely wouldn’t be too difficult, and maybe when all of this was over, calm for half a second, he could concentrate on such properties. “I can do that.” A firm nod, indicating the potential for such things – pondering if he was just supposed to have a line of them in the bakery or Loreseekers hall soon. He kept it tucked along the back of his mind, safekeeping after storms and tempests, after disasters and mayhem. Then they followed, Zuriel sulking from behind, which would’ve induced an eye-roll from the Sword if it were any other time, if he wasn’t pressed for specific layers and lacquers, if there weren’t a thousand other notions spiraling along his cranium. He hid his grimace and discontent when Jigano’s sightings materialized in a disappearing act, numbed in his disappointment, stoic and grave, reserved once more. Jigano replicated it, however, healthy and vivid, verdant and green. The notion of seething it with his magic was poised, and he nodded, kneeling near, striving to render only the slightest of invocations, despite the lacquer bounding behind it. A particular stretch of control and composure sufficed and immersed from his essence, like a slow, steady pulse, a held breath, as the magic sought to merely touch, trace, and stroke the leaf. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate