Rage, maybe rage would lift me up
They all dangled along knife edges; stepping back, jutting forth, eventually winding their way back to falling rocks and daggered boundaries. Because perhaps the Fae trials were a mere distraction from everything else threatening to engulf, persist, and pervade, a blip on the horizon along humanity’s smaller scales, when they might’ve been damned and doomed to become beaten down, broken, and succumbed to another far larger crisis. Where people stood, where they dreamed, where they drifted, might not matter. It might be everything.
He paused in the midst, wondering if the inquiry had dug in too deep, but it was too late to back out now. Sunjata always seemed to have a way in acquiring information, and though Deimos did too, the Flood likely had farther reaching roots and routes in his threads. The Sword harbored secrets and information, machinations and calculations, furtive notes until the time was right – the Governor seemed to allow them to spill over, and make do with what came. So he only meandered along the surface, watching more schools of fish pass and flicker by, while the dragon answered.
The Sword embodied nothing – stoic and reticent at the news, but the inward cringe recoiled and clenched, demigods (where he wouldn’t reveal Amalia’s newfound status), placements and adornments of strategy honed in, and then down to Nate. Deimos could think of the hordes of other Ascended, some he was entirely indifferent to, and some he’d call his friends.
And where on earth was everyone going to be fitting into this.
The only statement he could quantify was a blunt notion. Sounds like he will need more than a fang necklace.
He paused in the midst, wondering if the inquiry had dug in too deep, but it was too late to back out now. Sunjata always seemed to have a way in acquiring information, and though Deimos did too, the Flood likely had farther reaching roots and routes in his threads. The Sword harbored secrets and information, machinations and calculations, furtive notes until the time was right – the Governor seemed to allow them to spill over, and make do with what came. So he only meandered along the surface, watching more schools of fish pass and flicker by, while the dragon answered.
The Sword embodied nothing – stoic and reticent at the news, but the inward cringe recoiled and clenched, demigods (where he wouldn’t reveal Amalia’s newfound status), placements and adornments of strategy honed in, and then down to Nate. Deimos could think of the hordes of other Ascended, some he was entirely indifferent to, and some he’d call his friends.
And where on earth was everyone going to be fitting into this.
The only statement he could quantify was a blunt notion. Sounds like he will need more than a fang necklace.
DEIMOS
