[se] chaos is all they know

Deimos the Reaper master of nothing place, of recoil and grace At the very least, the banter between them comprised a sense of normalcy, essences of before vanquishing and despair, yearning ways to instill protection, and the misguided detriment to them all. She’d earned another arched brow for her remark, a slight chuckle echoing, bounding, from his chest, and then movement and motion, diving down behind a pair of reeds to snag at a cluster of purple flowers. If only we could all claim the same. He took the humor for what it was worth; because there would always be days where they were marked as fools, as idiots, as cretins, as ignorant – he’d simply had more than his fair share lately. The monolithic hound grabbed the florets, depositing them beside its companions, before hastening off to another set, uncertain how many would truly be needed and required. Dying for variety made him raise his head, think back to all the measures he’d offered and instilled within the Grounds. As of late, it’d been weapons, magic, Attuned accords, and then a hastening of all of them strung together, on games and upheavals, of conquering one another without devastation and ruin. Emphasize working together. He wanted that carried through, somehow, someway, because it had a resounding theme throughout these worlds, and hardly any of them seemed to remember, recall, those motions when the terror, trauma, and devastation arrived. Then he permitted the pulse of gratitude to traverse through, etched along as his maw settled over more ivory petals, hastening the entire root system along with it. Thank you. For he was obliged, that she’d been eager to take on the role, and that he’d have an opportunity to do something other than sink into the mire of his own making.

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