DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
It was only control, composure, and time that ensured the rancor, the bitterness didn’t sink into tempestuous or mercurial layers. Too many days spent in stoic intervals ensured it was his neutral tendency, that the natural loathing, abhorrence, and vehemence didn’t simmer within his vocals; impassive takes, careful, conspiring, taking into consideration the ministrations of others’, the machinations of their ruses and schemes. He didn’t want others to know of his hatred until it was too late – when he was upon them and stoked for the kill, overpowering, overwhelming menace and malice, an unattainable, unreachable figment of disaster and ruin. Maybe one day Zariah would overstep again. Maybe these warnings would be enough for those in Halo. He’d never known the Merciless to be content though, building, building, building up her mantles and status, powers and prestige. “I do not know much about the family.” Save for Loren, who’d been subsequently disowned anyway. He hadn’t been amongst her sort, overtaking, overreaching, ready and eager to bend and break every living thing daring to bombard his path.
He made no comment upon reigning or thrones. Those days were gone too; crowns heavy, summits proud. The Arcane Academy though was something to be aware of, pondering how many Zariah could plunge within its walls, coming out with the army she’d always dreamed of. “But we can imagine.” Nothing good for whatever stood in her way. How many would flock to those thresholds, where instruction would be prevalent where power could be earned and maintained? He understood the implications and why someone would yearn to achieve, grow stronger, mightier, but the one running it couldn’t be trusted. He arched his brow at the notion of shoe apparel, not fully comprehending the comment (or ever caring about what someone was wearing on their feet), his eyes lifting back towards the sun and shadows. “There is always rebellion.” Like an afterthought, like they hadn’t been plotting it since the moment she’d forced her rule into their world, like they hadn’t dug their heels in and refused to break or bend.
Because they could always do it again.
Unite and spread the heart apart
