It's taken a lifetime to lose my way
All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand
So she was fine (for now – a thread threatening to clamber over and through his mind – more to come on promises and omens of the past, in murmurs, in whispers, in moments aching to be spread apart). He still breathed, walked, lighter, swifter, realizing she’d likely be keen to return to the Citadel, and Chulane. The Harpy was one less figment for him to agonize over. One less moment of devastation. One less brutal, cruel swipe of disaster and deluge over the brim of his entity. Chimes and echoes, pictures of yesteryear in the flames, in the ice, in the rime. Returned, for minute instances, something to cherish and reflect upon and have before everything else shattered.
The uncertainty of the details surrounding the quest was a little questionable – but he wouldn’t put it past Wessex to not have shared anything surrounding the success. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps it did. Perhaps they could find other ways to overcome monsters in the dark. Or let them be, and no longer go to the damned Grounds in the baleful cry of LongNight.
Her attention deviated, wandering back to the deer, who seemed intent on making himself a display anyway. Despite his nuances and abilities to blend into the surroundings, for Deimos had seen him disappear multiple times now, in between nooks and crannies, in and amongst the stark ivory – he apparently yearned for attention. “Belial.” Library research, old books and texts, a mannerism of scholarly intuitions and intentions rather than experience this time, had brought forth the knowledge of just what the animal was. “A peryton, apparently.” A shrug followed through. “Found him by following a scream in the night.” A way to lure him – which was both stupid and unsurprising. “Turns out he was hunting and eating a ningo.” Carnivorous deer was a new concept, but there it was. Bound and tucked into his soul, shared again.
The uncertainty of the details surrounding the quest was a little questionable – but he wouldn’t put it past Wessex to not have shared anything surrounding the success. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps it did. Perhaps they could find other ways to overcome monsters in the dark. Or let them be, and no longer go to the damned Grounds in the baleful cry of LongNight.
Her attention deviated, wandering back to the deer, who seemed intent on making himself a display anyway. Despite his nuances and abilities to blend into the surroundings, for Deimos had seen him disappear multiple times now, in between nooks and crannies, in and amongst the stark ivory – he apparently yearned for attention. “Belial.” Library research, old books and texts, a mannerism of scholarly intuitions and intentions rather than experience this time, had brought forth the knowledge of just what the animal was. “A peryton, apparently.” A shrug followed through. “Found him by following a scream in the night.” A way to lure him – which was both stupid and unsurprising. “Turns out he was hunting and eating a ningo.” Carnivorous deer was a new concept, but there it was. Bound and tucked into his soul, shared again.
I'm fine in the fire
I feed on the friction
