Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
The monolith did permit a single laugh to erupt from his chest, loud and booming, allowed to fill the broken, whittled domicile at the summation of his discourse and speech, a smile managing to etch its way into the corners of his mouth. It faded abruptly at the note of other voices, because the Ascended was still ill, and Deimos knew all too well about vocals, about ghosts, drowning out the rest of the world. The affliction sinking and slinking down his spine, tracing over filaments and wraiths, particles he’d seen years and years and years before, either coming to haunt, taunt, or uplift. Somehow the Sword doubted it’d been the latter for Amun. “What do they say?” In efforts to appease, to extend the bare bones of comradery in this hell-spun world and void.
The Ascended’s motions towards his shoulder, and subsequent backlash of the maneuver, left him with an arched brow and a tilted head; but he seemed righted quickly enough. The words thereafter stung, for Deimos wasn’t certain if he would return. He had never been someone to leave things behind. He stayed. He rooted and planted himself into the ground. He threatened to tear apart realms, kingdoms, and sovereigns that wanted to do the same to his own. He stubbornly persisted, persevered, and endured.
But then, everything had crumbled, had died, had whittled, had withered, had left. If he stayed here, wouldn’t his figure do the same? Had he finally learned when it was time, when it was okay, to move forward, instead of remaining still, stagnant, and static?
“Thank you. You are doing me a great favor.” Another grin, hard-edged, as if it didn’t know where to go, before he gestured to the thickened tome laden on the table. “This is a book of blueprints to leave at the guild. If you place an item on the book, it can automatically add the design and schematic to the pages.” Helpful, useful, for those who tinkered, utilized, and created.
The Ascended’s motions towards his shoulder, and subsequent backlash of the maneuver, left him with an arched brow and a tilted head; but he seemed righted quickly enough. The words thereafter stung, for Deimos wasn’t certain if he would return. He had never been someone to leave things behind. He stayed. He rooted and planted himself into the ground. He threatened to tear apart realms, kingdoms, and sovereigns that wanted to do the same to his own. He stubbornly persisted, persevered, and endured.
But then, everything had crumbled, had died, had whittled, had withered, had left. If he stayed here, wouldn’t his figure do the same? Had he finally learned when it was time, when it was okay, to move forward, instead of remaining still, stagnant, and static?
“Thank you. You are doing me a great favor.” Another grin, hard-edged, as if it didn’t know where to go, before he gestured to the thickened tome laden on the table. “This is a book of blueprints to leave at the guild. If you place an item on the book, it can automatically add the design and schematic to the pages.” Helpful, useful, for those who tinkered, utilized, and created.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
