DEIMOS
the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times
for I have burned too many times
Figments, goals, and aspirations to keep them aloft, grounded, circumventing towards the other side. For strength, for precision, for might; and they couldn’t conquer any of those assembled plans if they were dead.
While he tended to the rest of the scattered armaments and effigies, categorizing which ones needed repairs once more, he caught her staring over the variety of weapons. The Sword had his own preferences – but each armament was justifiable in its own weight, merit, and prowess. Some were for speed, like a rapier’s quick, slash, some were for power, like a warhammer, and some were rendered and regarded in between. At her inquiry, he glanced over his shoulder, a firm nod following without hesitation. “Take what you need.” Though, the notion of them slipping through the cracks made him narrow his eyes – recalling the warnings within the Monster Hunter’s Guild before they’d set the shelter ablaze.
Finishing up, brushing his hands together, he pulled back his long mane of hair, pondering over the rest of the aforementioned weaponry at their disposal. There’d be more available further into the barracks, where he kept up a steady supply. “We can go look in the armory.” And he maneuvered through the long hallway, expecting her to follow towards one of his favored rooms – comfortable and expansive, shelves of organized shields, metal, and serrated edges of viable, worthy contortions. Once they’d crossed into the area, he maneuvered to the side, allowing her to explore the region – settled into its remnants, having long since memorized where each went. “Some are fast. Some are cunning. Some might require more power behind your efforts than others.”
Deimos’ eyes went to a hatchet, or an ax nearby, pondering how many Elide would be willing to carry on her belt.
While he tended to the rest of the scattered armaments and effigies, categorizing which ones needed repairs once more, he caught her staring over the variety of weapons. The Sword had his own preferences – but each armament was justifiable in its own weight, merit, and prowess. Some were for speed, like a rapier’s quick, slash, some were for power, like a warhammer, and some were rendered and regarded in between. At her inquiry, he glanced over his shoulder, a firm nod following without hesitation. “Take what you need.” Though, the notion of them slipping through the cracks made him narrow his eyes – recalling the warnings within the Monster Hunter’s Guild before they’d set the shelter ablaze.
Finishing up, brushing his hands together, he pulled back his long mane of hair, pondering over the rest of the aforementioned weaponry at their disposal. There’d be more available further into the barracks, where he kept up a steady supply. “We can go look in the armory.” And he maneuvered through the long hallway, expecting her to follow towards one of his favored rooms – comfortable and expansive, shelves of organized shields, metal, and serrated edges of viable, worthy contortions. Once they’d crossed into the area, he maneuvered to the side, allowing her to explore the region – settled into its remnants, having long since memorized where each went. “Some are fast. Some are cunning. Some might require more power behind your efforts than others.”
Deimos’ eyes went to a hatchet, or an ax nearby, pondering how many Elide would be willing to carry on her belt.
the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life
for I have been drowning all my life
