DEIMOS
There’d been another time when the same inquiry had been asked, and it knotted in the back of his mind like a petulant twist and turn. One look from the unicorn centered solely on him, and he nodded, ensuring the memories dissipated away. “Zuriel. It was her own. Means strength, a rock of faith.” And she’d proven that in multitudes and abundance; namesakes lingering in more than rooted grace and auras of dignity.
Partaking in another slice of cheese to ward off any melancholy threatening to strangle, he mused quietly as she uttered her statement about the gods. Abandoned, much like himself, all seemed to carry those similar dispersions – convictions over lack of worth, apprehension, trepidation, presumptions built up from the nuances of Caido’s history. Except there’d been some who had proven the distinctions wrong. “Having magic does not make you a fool.” He grabbed another smaller piece of bread, then rose, dusting the sand off his pants, before stepping towards the fire, and checking on the roasting Hels. “It took me a long time to see one. Not until I wanted to Attune.” His eyes drifted away from her for a moment, inspecting the birds, rotating the spit while Belial maneuvered around his feet.
The soldier’s eyes flicked back over to her as she snagged at the food, distracted momentarily, and it took a moment for her words to sink in. “Fat?” And then he laughed, and it was another echoing, bounding measure this time, unfurling from his chest before he could even think to stop it. Not in his line of work – which was consistent with training, hunting, gathering, running, chasing down other plotting, calculating efforts, or hastening off to another land. The Sword shook his head, before deciding the Hels were fine and cooked through, and beginning to take them off the spit.
He chanced another glance at her from his vantage point as the question pinpointed back to the true heart of the matter. “We want Halo for the Old Gods,” which she would’ve known given the dramatics of the previous year. His head tilted, and incantations conjured plates to place the birds within, carving off pieces with a hunting knife he extracted from his belt. He purposefully took his time in all measures, considering ramifications and possibilities, before handing her the plate, and then started feeding his companions – oats for Zuriel taken from his bag, and another one of the birds for Belial, not touching his own quite yet. “I was curious on where you stood.” For Old, for New, or for the fabled neutrality.
Partaking in another slice of cheese to ward off any melancholy threatening to strangle, he mused quietly as she uttered her statement about the gods. Abandoned, much like himself, all seemed to carry those similar dispersions – convictions over lack of worth, apprehension, trepidation, presumptions built up from the nuances of Caido’s history. Except there’d been some who had proven the distinctions wrong. “Having magic does not make you a fool.” He grabbed another smaller piece of bread, then rose, dusting the sand off his pants, before stepping towards the fire, and checking on the roasting Hels. “It took me a long time to see one. Not until I wanted to Attune.” His eyes drifted away from her for a moment, inspecting the birds, rotating the spit while Belial maneuvered around his feet.
The soldier’s eyes flicked back over to her as she snagged at the food, distracted momentarily, and it took a moment for her words to sink in. “Fat?” And then he laughed, and it was another echoing, bounding measure this time, unfurling from his chest before he could even think to stop it. Not in his line of work – which was consistent with training, hunting, gathering, running, chasing down other plotting, calculating efforts, or hastening off to another land. The Sword shook his head, before deciding the Hels were fine and cooked through, and beginning to take them off the spit.
He chanced another glance at her from his vantage point as the question pinpointed back to the true heart of the matter. “We want Halo for the Old Gods,” which she would’ve known given the dramatics of the previous year. His head tilted, and incantations conjured plates to place the birds within, carving off pieces with a hunting knife he extracted from his belt. He purposefully took his time in all measures, considering ramifications and possibilities, before handing her the plate, and then started feeding his companions – oats for Zuriel taken from his bag, and another one of the birds for Belial, not touching his own quite yet. “I was curious on where you stood.” For Old, for New, or for the fabled neutrality.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
