DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Onto more pleasant things, perhaps – even if it the apprehension behind it built and stewed, brimming under and over the surface – the Sword intended to make the most of the time they had. No more lingering in the catacombs of waiting, waiting, waiting, borrowing and burrowing into hours of scrupulous intentions, wondering if something were to alter. The present, instead of the burdensome past, instead of the ominous future. In this world, they couldn’t stand idle. They couldn’t hold fast. His apartments had seldom seen anyone else, save for Zuriel. Still Spartan in design, each surface was purposeful – not much altered from his previous home, where one could find suitable weapons their disposal within a moment’s notice. There were some ornamentations – mementos and artifacts – like Rexanna’s portrait, with her lantern hanging underneath. The one he’d created for Kiada hung beside it, if only to keep the Penumbra company. The hearth was a blazing fire, warming and heating the stone walls and floors, the rug massive beside its wares – Zuriel situated nearby, content, pleased, perhaps, that Deimos now had others to extend invitations to.
That family was still there, still close, still a piece of his life.
He’d already long since prepared the food, even if Kiada wouldn’t be able to taste it – portions of one of the ursurs they’d felled from along the tundra (he figured serving Chulane ningos would’ve been poor manners, despite the flicker of amusement solidified in his mind). Drinks could be managed and manifested upon request, and he left the desserts, sides, and particulars to them – notes sent along on a previous day, when he could clear his plans.
For this was a time not meant to be wiling away hours in the council halls, or mauling another guard in the training grounds. This had been designated for kin and brethren, and he was no longer permitting these instances to go to waste.
Unite and spread the heart apart
