cover you when the sky comes crashing in
The Sword had spent a greater part of a morning within his apartment fine-tuning plans, orchestrations, and means, studying sketches, highlighting particulars, paying fine attention to detail. Only when he was satisfied with the preamble, did he finally make way in regards to creation adornments and tangible threads, honing in concentration and efforts into the hollowed structures eventually taking shape. Between palms, the familiar gilded outlines cloaked and daggered in precision, ensuring the framework was substantial, before applying the outer indications, pulsing incantations into the metal taking shape, and finally, the fragments of a pendant. It became a healthier distraction, application and absorption into a task, into motions, rather than sinking very quickly into the semblances of anguish and rancor again.
Thereafter, Deimos permitted himself the slightest of breaks, a few rounds of swordplay and honing in on targets below in the training grounds, before returning for the item, Zuriel accompanying, and threading his way through the Citadel. The artifact rested neatly and safely in the pocket of his heavy coat, and while the unicorn traced her way through newly-fallen snow, the beast stalked and presided towards the Council Hall, trying to remember he didn’t need to hang his head here. That these routes and pathways would eventually become known and habitual too.
Eventually, the Sword found his way to the Warden’s office, forgetting he had one too, lifting a hand to knock on the sides of panels and wood, announcing his presence, uncertain if she’d be busy at this particular hour. “I have what you requested,” rumbled and resounded, blunt and to the point, and then he waited, patient and composed.
Thereafter, Deimos permitted himself the slightest of breaks, a few rounds of swordplay and honing in on targets below in the training grounds, before returning for the item, Zuriel accompanying, and threading his way through the Citadel. The artifact rested neatly and safely in the pocket of his heavy coat, and while the unicorn traced her way through newly-fallen snow, the beast stalked and presided towards the Council Hall, trying to remember he didn’t need to hang his head here. That these routes and pathways would eventually become known and habitual too.
Eventually, the Sword found his way to the Warden’s office, forgetting he had one too, lifting a hand to knock on the sides of panels and wood, announcing his presence, uncertain if she’d be busy at this particular hour. “I have what you requested,” rumbled and resounded, blunt and to the point, and then he waited, patient and composed.
DEIMOS
