like salt in the sea

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Actions waylaid, promises forgotten, notions of thoughts upon thoughts rendered into a lackluster haze of lunacy and delirium, had at last come to a cease and desist. The Sword could breathe without the hint of affliction rampaging down through his lungs, across his flesh, tarnished and torn, feverish and deranged. He could move and maneuver without the thought, the notion, of carrying healing water to ensure he remained mobile and upright. He was alive, and slowly, ever so slowly, striving to become whole once more. A slow, unwinding, unfurling process, where some of the pieces were jagged and didn’t fit quite as well as before – but steadily gaining the platitude to become more than a wandering, burdened fool. Even if this particular errand only gave him pause, a chiseling, sculpting, carving reminder in his bones that he’d been the cause of all of this. If, in the back of his mind, the weight of Rexanna’s words, spoken in a dream, held any merit., any ties, any considerations (he did – he thought about them daily, along and alone on the tundras, imagining worlds where the Penumbra and the Sword could coexist again, reapers and thieves alike). A time to honor and uphold then – and a note had been sent Bastien’s way, that he’d be there to fulfill the role of memorial making, of casting Rexanna’s memories to better light. He wasn’t certain if Bastien was ready any more than he was, but Leafchange was Ludo’s jurisdiction, where lanterns were hung, where traces of those lost came to pass once more. Eventually, he peeled his way through the Grounds, parsing through familiar paths, branching and bridging along avenues and routes, touching and embarking over shadows, until he came to the notable building. Zuriel followed, a tilt to her head, apparently not used to leaving him out of her sight (for fear of yet another sickening trial; and he really couldn’t blame her) – and upon the approach to the door, the heathen raised his fist and knocked. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace