Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Grim for grim then, stifling down the suffering because everyone else was worn around the fringes too, waiting to retreat back to their boundaries, their shackles, their tethers. Deimos didn’t ask what kept Bastien afloat – the man had seemed chipper regardless of circumstances, and had a child to maintain, to raise, look after; a portion of Rexanna still left in the world. Perhaps responsibility made him remain tied more to the earth, than drowning under the weight of it, like the General was doing – gnarling his duties in knots over the back of his shoulders, down the length of his spine, and waiting for the noose to tighten just a hair more.
The mention of Azrael made him tilt his head, not expecting the subject matter at all. Children hadn’t been something steadily in his gaze – appreciated, noticed, for the potential – but usually not sought. Kiada had been a welcome exception, a bold, audacious little thing in Helovia, something honed and ready and eager while the rest of the world lingered on wisps of listlessness. Was Azrael the same way, being of Rexanna’s blood and soul?
His heart hurt, and he looked around the room, before settling back upon Bastien, striving to pay attention to where the request was going. He blinked in surprise when the answer and explanation finally came around; since he mostly finessed weaponry, magical adornments, or some other necessity when it was required. Though he’d once made them secret gifts, blankets and a…rattle shaped like a dagger, he hadn’t ever gained the proclivity, wherewithal, or general knowledge of amusements honed. “I can try,” he mustered though, a firm nod, as he maneuvered near the table, and withdrew some parchment leftover from earlier defense designs and designations. “Can you draw what you had in mind?”
The mention of Azrael made him tilt his head, not expecting the subject matter at all. Children hadn’t been something steadily in his gaze – appreciated, noticed, for the potential – but usually not sought. Kiada had been a welcome exception, a bold, audacious little thing in Helovia, something honed and ready and eager while the rest of the world lingered on wisps of listlessness. Was Azrael the same way, being of Rexanna’s blood and soul?
His heart hurt, and he looked around the room, before settling back upon Bastien, striving to pay attention to where the request was going. He blinked in surprise when the answer and explanation finally came around; since he mostly finessed weaponry, magical adornments, or some other necessity when it was required. Though he’d once made them secret gifts, blankets and a…rattle shaped like a dagger, he hadn’t ever gained the proclivity, wherewithal, or general knowledge of amusements honed. “I can try,” he mustered though, a firm nod, as he maneuvered near the table, and withdrew some parchment leftover from earlier defense designs and designations. “Can you draw what you had in mind?”
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
