who we are and all that we're trying to be
And Sah was right – in at least the worlds Deimos had lived within. Keen to do what they wanted with mortals, with parallels, with aspects of maneuvering pawns, and each one of them was damned and due to be one, regardless. Where they were pitted against one another, where one would topple, one would yield, or if the cycle would persist and continue once more: some of them locked away, trapped, inside a bubble for hundreds of years.
So the beast nodded and listened, his stare resolute. The echoes and reverberations were things he’d conspired and calculated too, but he didn’t have the right answers. He wasn’t certain anyone did. They could strive for peace, but for how long? Until the Old Gods had enough? Until the Voice orchestrated something else to level the playing field? “I do not know. It has been something I have mulled over for a long time now.” He sighed, chin resting in the palm of his hand, gaze now gesturing towards the ice, the rime, the snow; figments far less complex than the realm shaping around them. “Many have come to the same conclusions. What do we do?”
Did they permit the Voice to continue her escalations? Did they warrant other proportions, as Juniper had strived to do in her trial? “I have tried to come with ideas for items, or means to ensure some survival without the Voice. Others have bargained, and it has not gone well.” There within was the crisis: Sah had reached the points and fixtures of convictions within multitudes, and where they were supposed to be drawing the line. “Because in a way, that is manipulation too. They are a shield before her.”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
