[Seasonal Event] free of the coliseums
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1

Deimos the Reaper
You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this
long and lonely road to hell
the throne must be such a sad and lonely place

Deimos never really thought much of his new house. The fact that he’d even managed to settle here was enough of a shock; but the rest of it remained in his same habitual form. It was plain, outfitted with the essentials and naught more, perhaps just as reticent as he, away from the legion of other clustered homes, slightly on the outskirts. It suited him just fine, a means to a shelter, but lacked all the warmth, all the fineries, all the delicacies he’d shared with family amidst other worlds. Perhaps that was well too; because their constant reminders, their bombarding memories, still haunted him in his sleep, and when he awoke to the simplistic, wooden arches and beams, to the dull, conventional panes of glass, he knew he was still alive, still existing, not yet dragged down into his destined hell.

It’d have to be secured for winter and the rumors of Longnight. He’d thought about restocking supplies on weaponry as well, made a mental note as he went about the outer walls, lingering along the perimeter, eyeing the jumble of wood he’d brought back from the forest. It remained where he’d left it from the day before, resting on top of his sled, a good amount but not enough. He’d have to return another time. The piercing slate of the Reaper’s eyes meandered slowly along the apertures and armaments of his refuge, gesturing back to the sun as it rose steadily through the sky, then dipped a little, flattened on a thin line of winter’s ridiculous gestures. He could pile it here, where it could dry further from the sun’s rays, provide more nourishing warmth in the weeks to come.

The beast took off his top fur layer, hanging it off a beam, before getting to work. His hands grasped hold of two logs and maneuvered them towards his chosen spot, placing them accordingly so they lined up parallel, as neat and scrupulous as he could be. The piling was meticulous, born from his attention to detail, so that he may fit more and more logs with one another, so that they wouldn’t fall in some ridiculous, stupid, asinine fashion, so that all his hard work would pay off. Warms you more than once was a notion in his mind, causing a smooth smile to dip along the corners of his lips, recalling one of his grandfather’s favored sayings. His father had always embodied fire anyway; to which all the generations gathered together would shake their heads and laugh, but Deimos’ gifts hadn’t been towards the flames. It’d only been death and demise, the withering of souls – so he strayed here, lost in the confines of repetitive motion, pushing down the weight on his shoulders, consigning it to his stockpile.


Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary

Amalia <3


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[Seasonal Event] free of the coliseums - by Deimos - 01-21-2019, 02:32 PM

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