DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
As they arrived, Deimos was setting up a pile of wood, several different lengths of lumber off to the side, hoping they’d be useful for the rotted contortions and covering an abundance of holes left over from some animals likely finding their way inside. His eyes regarded And then Sunjata. The General’s jaw clenched, shutting tightly, eyes narrowing – nodding at the man’s insinuation, but the warning, the preamble, the prelude to contempt and loathing were already imbedded therein.
But as a majority of them entered the threshold, they brought in a somber, restrained mood; his mind recollecting the note near his: details upon details, scrawls upon scrawls, of Maea’s death and the corresponding names, descriptions, and goodbyes that went alongside them. Which meant another hollowed out contortion in the grounds, one more of their number gone by some haphazard event. For all her attempts at gaining strength and platitude, maybe it simply hadn’t been enough – and the sting of that had settled its roots into their terrain. Maybe cleaning out the prisons would serve as a distraction; a time not warped or sculpted in grief. He traced an inaudible sigh, gaze sliding over the ramparts and construction around them, before addressing their assembled crowd.
“Thank you for coming.” He didn’t look at Sunjata. “We have not used the prison in some time, and with LongNight approaching, the Queen thought to render it functional again.” A shrug through his shoulders; they could always guess as to why, though the ruminations usually ran straight for Ascended quandaries and indiscretions. “I thought we could start on the holes,” and here he nodded towards several in the ceiling, and on the side, where the light gaped through. They’d find tools and lumber for it nestled nearby, and a ladder leaning along the outside walls. “There also appears to be a rat and bat problem.” Evidence of it across the floors, within the cells, amongst nests clustered in corners or encroached upon the ceiling.
And something else positioned, silent and quiet, in the furthest, right-hand corner, but none of them would notice it yet – too drowned, veiled, and shrouded in shadow.
The depths of his stare fixated on the warped bars too, some bent, oddly misshapen, and he wasn’t certain how it had happened, just that they needed to be adjusted. “I will be reworking the metal.” Then, with a nod of his head, he presumed they would get to work.
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We need two for solving the bat/rat problem, and two for patching up holes! You’ll find all the tools you’ll need over by the pile of wood!
No post order!
Unite and spread the heart apart
