DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
The Sword and General again; rarely ever ceasing in his soldier, warrior figure, true to form with blades on his hips and harpooning measures in his grasp. But there were days where he’d crave nothing more than a segment, a second, of repose, of a sanctum without strife, melancholy, or woe, where the regrets left for minute periods of time, and he’d recall what it was to like to walk without the burdens placed upon his brawn. It was lost to him, to all of them now, as they began the next march towards alternating horizons, towards brewing, brooding tempests, towards oncoming shadows and storms they couldn’t predict, barely fathom. He swallowed down the length of frustration, of disappointment in himself, eyes catching on the rubble, the ruin, the pictures of a world once not so withered and gone. “Restoration and defenses of the Grounds.” How to best deal with potential repercussions, because this wouldn’t be the first incident; tensions would escalate, fear would heighten, and he was apprehensive about what else they could lose in the interim.“And the potential of next LongNight.” Another year awaiting, but they came swiftly, in between every other damned, doomed motion. “Amalia told me the Ascended could have fought the monsters this past year.” But obviously hadn’t; and he let the implications, the information fall there, where Evie could contemplate their actions.
