A pause to hunt

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

“Life Drain,” by simple way of explanation – the peeling away of forces, of breath, of blood and bone and souls. “I have had that magic since I was born.” Long since instilled, understood, in its complexities, even if as a youth he shied away from what it all meant. It took training and war to blend and sway the ferocity into his lungs and heart; and there it had stayed for lifetimes now, lodged, forged, pieces of steel and weaponry. A piece of armaments, much like himself, pulsing, waiting, coming alive on pervading intricacies to snag, steal, and unwind its nefarious, sinister properties. It had given him a title in Helovia, and it merely existed in him now; just one of the many threats under the surface of his skin.

But he was not the Reaper now, and so he managed a grin, waiting out Sah’s cutting, and eating of the heart. No grand ceremony to follow – if Deimos had been in hound form, perhaps he might have howled – instead there was the peryton gliding over Sah’s shoulder (infinitely nosey) and the accomplishment the other Abandoned would have. “There you are. A true hunter of the north now.” Nodding at the inquiry, so that Sah could begin prepping, he went back to grab the sled, motioning it over so that they could cart it back home when everything else had been taken care of.

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I