this is the reckoning
His impassivity and stoicism had ensured plenty stayed away in Helovia. His magic likely had its own hand in the matters too – but it’d been far more difficult to maintain any semblance of friendships beyond Rexanna, Hotaru, or Kiada – those he considered family – in the regions where he orchestrated war and demolition. Caido had an air of acceptance that felt impervious and hard for him to fathom, once so used to being relatively ignored, avoided, or intimidating the rest of the world. Sometimes that was exactly what he wanted. Often though, he merely appreciated the world’s patience, in permitting him to find ground that didn’t always erode under his feet.
She still didn’t back away, and instead continued in the consistent trend of hoping for education, sagacity, wisdom, and training. The beast stifled a sigh, glancing upward, towards Belial, and then sidelong, at the unicorn. There only appeared to be the sweeping grounds of greenery here, at least for now, and it would probably be best to leave before something else discovered them. He was still half-tempted to say no, to instill some boundaries on a sovereignty that still asked a lot of him with very little in return. But he was also a General, and understood the measures in which many yearned to understand. Deimos had been the same, and it still persisted in the notches of his mind, in the bellows of his soul. “Fine,” he obliged, shaking his head, as if it were a mistake.
But then he snorted at the goading, at the challenge, and it was as if she knew exactly how to read him in that moment.
The Sword hated to be outdone.
“Doubtful,” came on a snicker, on a grin, before shifting entirely. His companions responded to the conforming paws and the hellhound expanse with dual notations of speed – his muscles bunched, coiled, in canine impact, before hastening off in remarkable, swift, quiet interludes – leaving enough impact in the land for her to follow the path. Sights and smells would instill the familiar route back to Torchline.
{FIN}
She still didn’t back away, and instead continued in the consistent trend of hoping for education, sagacity, wisdom, and training. The beast stifled a sigh, glancing upward, towards Belial, and then sidelong, at the unicorn. There only appeared to be the sweeping grounds of greenery here, at least for now, and it would probably be best to leave before something else discovered them. He was still half-tempted to say no, to instill some boundaries on a sovereignty that still asked a lot of him with very little in return. But he was also a General, and understood the measures in which many yearned to understand. Deimos had been the same, and it still persisted in the notches of his mind, in the bellows of his soul. “Fine,” he obliged, shaking his head, as if it were a mistake.
But then he snorted at the goading, at the challenge, and it was as if she knew exactly how to read him in that moment.
The Sword hated to be outdone.
“Doubtful,” came on a snicker, on a grin, before shifting entirely. His companions responded to the conforming paws and the hellhound expanse with dual notations of speed – his muscles bunched, coiled, in canine impact, before hastening off in remarkable, swift, quiet interludes – leaving enough impact in the land for her to follow the path. Sights and smells would instill the familiar route back to Torchline.
{FIN}
DEIMOS
