DEIMOS
The finality silenced him into brooding; eyes glancing over flailing gourds but not truly seeing them. Too many platitudes, multitudes, anarchies, and menace rested between those unsaid sentiments. Deimos would be the first to admit to his own capabilities in pettiness, judgment, and grudges; but he could set them aside. His ferocity was patient, could come in other moments. Ru was an entirely different being. “I am capable of working with an adversary.” Had done so several times over, with those like Wessex and Sunjata; agreeing to disagree to ensure tasks were accomplished. Nor did he have any intention of ruining Seren’s quest – and he wasn’t an individual to admit to his multitudes of power, or how much prowess came in their footholds of control and precision. The arch of his brow said as much. “Do what you must,” came with a nod; for he couldn’t fathom any other alternative at the moment. The tipping point would be with Ru.
Contemplating reaches of incantations to utilize next – wielding, experimenting, plunging – he didn’t expect the sudden outburst from the demigod. The Sword ceased movement entirely, except for the widening of his eyes, the pumpkins still remaining in the air frozen in place – as he watched the unleashing of screeches, screams, howls, and kicks. Took it all in, from smashed gourds to hollow sounds, to the pummeling, decimating, seeds and pulp – a veritable bloodbath but in orange.
Still standing atop the knoll, he withheld a laugh, because it really wasn’t terribly funny; he loathed politics just as much as the next person, despite being involved in them multiple times in multiple lives. It was tempting to join in a rally of unfurling composure; but he kept his so under wraps and so bottled up that the monolith only exuded a calm might over the rush of Seren’s storm. “And who said you were any of those things?” As for getting along – there might’ve been a time. When they first entered, plucked from their worlds, forced into this one; precarious faultlines, generosity, and acceptance, before everything went to gods and repeated renditions of history. “We all tried once. But people hurt one another, or disagree, and then the cycle repeats.”
Contemplating reaches of incantations to utilize next – wielding, experimenting, plunging – he didn’t expect the sudden outburst from the demigod. The Sword ceased movement entirely, except for the widening of his eyes, the pumpkins still remaining in the air frozen in place – as he watched the unleashing of screeches, screams, howls, and kicks. Took it all in, from smashed gourds to hollow sounds, to the pummeling, decimating, seeds and pulp – a veritable bloodbath but in orange.
Still standing atop the knoll, he withheld a laugh, because it really wasn’t terribly funny; he loathed politics just as much as the next person, despite being involved in them multiple times in multiple lives. It was tempting to join in a rally of unfurling composure; but he kept his so under wraps and so bottled up that the monolith only exuded a calm might over the rush of Seren’s storm. “And who said you were any of those things?” As for getting along – there might’ve been a time. When they first entered, plucked from their worlds, forced into this one; precarious faultlines, generosity, and acceptance, before everything went to gods and repeated renditions of history. “We all tried once. But people hurt one another, or disagree, and then the cycle repeats.”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
