DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
That hadn’t been his intention – not with these series of statements otherwise – but he was half-tempted to let them remain there. Safrin’s words echoed and spun in his ear again, mountains and pebbles, and a vicious sort of sigh built in between his ribs and collided with the rest of the misty air, all while he stared out across the expanse. “It was your sense of entitlement, and disregard for Ru.” That was why he’d offered an alternative. That was why he’d hastened towards other directions, instead of acting as everyone’s personal item maker. Perhaps a majority of the world saw him in that light, and he was just now capable of focusing in on it, of seeing where he really fell in between the cracks and seams.
The rock crumbled in his hands, in force and incantations, spun back into dust and demolished quarters, and he brushed it off, back into the shoreline. For a moment, his piercing gaze flickered away from the bizarre horse making its way over, slowly, and straight to Nate and his hollowed laughter. “Why should I give one to you?” Deimos had to wonder if this was how Remi had felt, all those years and seasons and cycles ago, constantly asked to churn out elements and fragments for greedy, avaricious hands. Maybe the Sword had simply gone on too long in the same mannerisms, and the result was here – exuding a level of boundaries with those reaching, grasping, covetous and self-indulgent, offended they’d have to do something for themselves.
As for the Climb, that earned a distinct eye roll. “Have you not gone there before?” In all the hustle and bustle of sickness the past year? “Best use your jacket then.” A dangerous, hostile sneer rankled over his features – a warning perhaps.
Otherwise, there was this god damned equine to either deal with or ignore. Reaching inwards, plucking at Attuned factions and capabilities, the beast called out to its fellow cretin, a gesture of impatience and irritation. What do you want?
The rock crumbled in his hands, in force and incantations, spun back into dust and demolished quarters, and he brushed it off, back into the shoreline. For a moment, his piercing gaze flickered away from the bizarre horse making its way over, slowly, and straight to Nate and his hollowed laughter. “Why should I give one to you?” Deimos had to wonder if this was how Remi had felt, all those years and seasons and cycles ago, constantly asked to churn out elements and fragments for greedy, avaricious hands. Maybe the Sword had simply gone on too long in the same mannerisms, and the result was here – exuding a level of boundaries with those reaching, grasping, covetous and self-indulgent, offended they’d have to do something for themselves.
As for the Climb, that earned a distinct eye roll. “Have you not gone there before?” In all the hustle and bustle of sickness the past year? “Best use your jacket then.” A dangerous, hostile sneer rankled over his features – a warning perhaps.
Otherwise, there was this god damned equine to either deal with or ignore. Reaching inwards, plucking at Attuned factions and capabilities, the beast called out to its fellow cretin, a gesture of impatience and irritation. What do you want?
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
