DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The figments of mirth, light merriment in a familial setting, remained for some more instances. Back and forth chides at one another, playful absconding of food and drink, a few snorts given as Amalia thought to render his glass empty. As he went to refill it, with an arched brow in her direction, he nodded at Samuel’s first response, understanding the meaning, starting slow, copying over materials so there were more – similar, perhaps, to the bookshop he’d left behind in the Grounds.Then, all the easygoing filaments seemingly died – driven straight into the floorboards, decimated mid-air. The tension in the monolith’s limbs coiled into rigid, impassive things, his features taking on a stony countenance as he drank more of the wine, prepared himself for the onslaught. It took him a moment to contemplate the range, and sudden rage, circumventing through Samuel’s claims. They’d had the chance, and he’d been the one to cease it.
His jaw clenched – because how many times had they all put their lives on the line, to ensure everyone else was safe?
And the monsters had been allowed to carry on, to destroy and distort, to thrive in their darkness one more season, one more year. There could’ve been ways – providing shelter for ones not strong enough, cooperating and working together, not everyone coming apart. Perhaps that was an idealistic view, and given his previous attempts at safeguarding, he couldn’t much. The Sword stared down at his plate, resisting the urge to curl his fingers around a knife, letting them grasp the wine glass a little too hard instead. The voice following the response was a hardened rumble, a controlled, composed tone, not allowing for the disappointment and fury to become immersed in its coiled vocals – but his piercing stare was reserved for the Ascended. “And this year? Will it be more of the same?” Putting it off, putting it off, putting it off while the rest of them died?
Unite and spread the heart apart
