who we are and all that we're trying to be
Not all; but a majority. The Sword avoided the other proportions of Frey like the plague. While Sah seemed to speculate into silence, the monolith fell into the same accord, though it was only to meander through his bag, ensuring everything was in place. When the Abandoned prospered more filaments, the monolith gestured with one hand to some nearby boulders jutting out of the tundra, because this was likely to be a long session. A lot of history. A lot of dominions. A lot of proportions designated in all directions.
Once settled upon his own, the beast looked across, back to the other. “Nature Frey seems very obliging. They have twice permitted for Halo to prosper: once with the Citadel’s temperature alteration, and now with the greenhouse.” Of which they had all benefitted: keeping the Deepfrost chill out of their veins, and now the proper adornments for their own supplies. He leaned forward, prospering one elbow on his knee, pondering forth more of the preambles, the justifications for why - understandable, given his status as one of those who were detested too. Deimos had simply never cared about the weight of shame he was supposed to have carried – utilizing his emblems and enchantments for protection, for shielding, and only the occasional derision. “Safrin is vain, but willing to listen. She Attuned me. And has, on many occasions, reminded me of exactly where I need to tread.” In the back of his mind, a living coming to herald like a blade once more. To get out of his own head, and out of his own way. To take, rather than meander haphazardly, complacently, in a world where too many did the same.
As for those snared and gnarled towards the New God? He could cherish: had done so, with Rexanna, with Kiada, and with comrades in arms. It hadn’t been about their status or what ran in their blood; but who they were. Their choices had been their own, just the same as his. A quieter tone settled, but the rumble across the rime was still there, postured for Sah. “Some of them are family. Or friends. They are all individuals, just the same as those not tied to the Voice.” He loathed some that were close to the Old Gods (Sunjata, specifically, came to mind). His fury and wrath weren’t upon them, but the way everything else had proceeded.
A deep sigh flickered through on the last inquiry, because there was much to say, and conversation had never been one of his favored duties. “The monsters at LongNight were once her experiments, that she allowed loose to prowl. They tortured, tormented, and killed off several comrades, and should not have been allowed to persist in the first place.” Why allow them to remain? Why permit them to continue beseeching the world? Demons, to wound, to maim, to rip, to tear? Deimos blinked, memories circulating and cycling back through. “The Ascended attacked the Mathair, one of the Fae’s god trees, in order to access a portal. When some of the Fae intervened, they were killed.” For defending something of their own. For striving to uphold their prowess, their land, their home. “She also caused the blight, which was a sickness, and some of my closest friends were affected.” Kiada, drawn into attacking and assaulting him. All of them trying so hard to piece together the mystery, to cease and desist the distress. “I have reason to believe she instigated the last one too, where many of us, including myself, were ill.” Because it had hallmarks of her work – even if her own had been affected. What better way to hide it in plain sight, than to ensure some of her brethren contracted it too? “Her latest happened to be the raising of the dead – and while I am grateful that some were allowed the choice to return, they are now under her tether.” And would never be able to return to what they once were. “I am not certain if it was to increase her army, for the inevitable fight, but that is my guess.”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
