death, you bring death and destruction to all that you touch
How very like Sunjata to scoff at the notion of learning. It almost made him laugh – but they were too far gone into the midst of all the tethers and lines now, eyes affixed, watching, waiting, taking his time in measures and details. “That is between her and I.” And he certainly wasn’t about to unravel notions of a conversation that had yet to occur to the Flood.
And then there was more and more and more – concepts the Governor of Torchline seemed to be sorely lacking. Deimos had long since offered his apologies for the lightning rod incident, a slip of a hand that had clearly been far beyond that. So he remained seated throughout the tirade, reticence intact, callbacks to Reaper predilections and Basin outcries; withstanding the deluge of ridiculousness as he’d done so many times before. Stone and steel, relatively unmoved by the temper tantrums – save for Peter and Adam’s ability to forgive. The Sword certainly lacked the clemency trait; he wouldn’t have survived all these years and lifetimes if he constantly granted mercy.
Another breath and then there were more, until he furnished his own eye roll. “That is not what I said – but I see you are past the point of reason and listening.” Twisting and turning, words upon words, empty and vacuous, heedless and insipid, and he rose to stand, having said all he needed to. Well, save for one parting gesture. “Then leave my brethren out of your stupefying decisions, and we will be fine.” One could only hope this would be one of the few times he’d have to deal with the dunce again anyway.
Sunjata could have his armored plates, his draconic shift, his multitude of dilemmas and problems. The Sword had said his piece, and with a wave, and motioning the glass towards the sink with his Air incantations, he shook his head, and left with only a passing glance out into the storms. “Good luck.”
{FIN}
And then there was more and more and more – concepts the Governor of Torchline seemed to be sorely lacking. Deimos had long since offered his apologies for the lightning rod incident, a slip of a hand that had clearly been far beyond that. So he remained seated throughout the tirade, reticence intact, callbacks to Reaper predilections and Basin outcries; withstanding the deluge of ridiculousness as he’d done so many times before. Stone and steel, relatively unmoved by the temper tantrums – save for Peter and Adam’s ability to forgive. The Sword certainly lacked the clemency trait; he wouldn’t have survived all these years and lifetimes if he constantly granted mercy.
Another breath and then there were more, until he furnished his own eye roll. “That is not what I said – but I see you are past the point of reason and listening.” Twisting and turning, words upon words, empty and vacuous, heedless and insipid, and he rose to stand, having said all he needed to. Well, save for one parting gesture. “Then leave my brethren out of your stupefying decisions, and we will be fine.” One could only hope this would be one of the few times he’d have to deal with the dunce again anyway.
Sunjata could have his armored plates, his draconic shift, his multitude of dilemmas and problems. The Sword had said his piece, and with a wave, and motioning the glass towards the sink with his Air incantations, he shook his head, and left with only a passing glance out into the storms. “Good luck.”
{FIN}
DEIMOS
