remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
“Sticks and leaves,” he spoke of the prized possessions; back when times weren’t so distraught and miserable, back when families had been together instead of stranded, stretched, abandoned, or desolate. Some other scattered proportions he still had, tucked away in Halo. But then there was no more of Wessex, and he could breathe the night air, varnish the sea through his lungs, listen to her rant and rave with little care – eyes flickering into the evening swells, listening to the puncture and juncture of the current racing onward. He maintained several paces behind her charging figure, anticipating some barrage of incantations, and having no need to be in the crossfire.
Sure enough, upon her words (and here he shook his head), the lightning shuddered, immersing light and heat into the array of twilight. Like any soul, his eyes went affixed to it, watching, waiting, until it twisted and turned, the siren call of its enchantments bristling, snapping, and crackling down into the sand, composing a bramble, a branch, of glass. Nothing ornate, nothing adorned, just sheer, raw power; the threat of more and more. It caused another slight smile to eclipse in the corners of his mouth; whether or not she could see that within the folds of darkness hardly mattered. He did manage another huff at her distinction.
Thereafter, he compelled his own – the Sword’s undulations disturbing the sea, calling, presiding, as its master in the current wake and vestiges, warping, tracing, taking until the waves were driven around the sanction of glass, swarming, surrounding, and bombarding; twisting and turning until he could manifest a miniature cyclone, Lilliputian tempests. “So what is truly troubling you?” Mustered over the rallying of powers, as if it was nothing but everyday happenstance; if she was capable of seeing all the angles of an element, and not plagued by being a monstrous fiend herself, what was driving the onslaught?
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
