DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
He maintained his stoic visage, head tilted to listen, every inch the mountainous fortress, a bestial, barbaric fathoms when necessary. For now, he was the calculating Reaper once again – the shadow who’d often examined new recruits, who’d asked and scrutinized and wondered over potential – but shifted more into Sword parameters when Aisha spoke. There was no over-arching war here. Not yet. There were no invasion to plan. No enemies to run through. This was a potential member of the guard, and they were determining whether or not she should stay.
“I had similar thoughts,” he arched his brow, low and muted, under the roar of the braziers, of the fire building and brewing, providing heat and warmth across the stones and open elements. Whether or not it happened to be fortune, a rapid acquiring of sagacity, or a compelling ability to soak in new information amidst experience, it scarcely mattered. “And she is determined. We want those with ambitions.” Something to aspire towards, to reach for, to have a perception of why they were growing, changing, becoming stronger, better. Deimos would much prefer someone with goals over those who picked up an armament with nothing attached to its means and measures. “We are in agreement then.” He nodded, maneuvering forward from where they’d stood and conferred, returning back to a waiting Elide.
Mostly as a joke, an unnerving move, the impassive disposition had yet to yield. His features gave nothing away; blank slated, appearing utterly indifferent, cast in a solemn stretch of piercing eyes and formidable structure. Only when he held out his hand, extending it towards the Ascended, did anything alter or change, bestowing the smallest of grins. “Welcome to the Deepfrost Shields.”
“I had similar thoughts,” he arched his brow, low and muted, under the roar of the braziers, of the fire building and brewing, providing heat and warmth across the stones and open elements. Whether or not it happened to be fortune, a rapid acquiring of sagacity, or a compelling ability to soak in new information amidst experience, it scarcely mattered. “And she is determined. We want those with ambitions.” Something to aspire towards, to reach for, to have a perception of why they were growing, changing, becoming stronger, better. Deimos would much prefer someone with goals over those who picked up an armament with nothing attached to its means and measures. “We are in agreement then.” He nodded, maneuvering forward from where they’d stood and conferred, returning back to a waiting Elide.
Mostly as a joke, an unnerving move, the impassive disposition had yet to yield. His features gave nothing away; blank slated, appearing utterly indifferent, cast in a solemn stretch of piercing eyes and formidable structure. Only when he held out his hand, extending it towards the Ascended, did anything alter or change, bestowing the smallest of grins. “Welcome to the Deepfrost Shields.”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
