who we are and all that we're trying to be
The explanations were curt and satisfactory, and constituted why he hadn’t been able to place her. Gone; caring for family, the leave palpable but the skills likely not truly diminished. If her next round of words (you were the General) stung, he didn’t show it. The notions peeled away on the inside though, conforming to the rancor, the bitterness, and the weight of decisions bathed in unholy fire. So he nodded, clenching his jaw, not glancing back at those who mulled around the braziers, whose eyes were fixated on them regardless. Even if his role had been significantly altered, his abilities, his experiences, and his tactics had not.
He could pretend for a moment that it was nothing more than a title once attached to his name.
“Deimos Ignatius,” he offered in return – though only an arch of a brow and a sliver of a worn smile tucked its way along his mouth at her response. Thereafter, the monolith resumed a stance, taking his blade back into the confines of his calloused palms, where it sang of home. A call to arms and legions – even without the confirmation resuming from his low rumble. “Your move.”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
