DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Progress was progress, though it came in waves and undulations it seemed, much like the tides themselves. In between discussions with those still living amongst Halo, the back and forth plotting and calculating between next maneuvers, and then the guild itself, Deimos had found opportunities here and there to strive forward, onward, in multitudes of directions.
Taking hold of the morning, he’d been up well before the sun settled into the sky, training first within the grounds and along the shoreline, and then returning to labor on matters for the Monster Hunter’s. A few other members had already been delegated to working on the pantry, whose shelves had been lopsided as of late and needing repair, while he chose to remain outside – creating and concocting a sign.
While Belial made a nuisance of himself on the roof, hooting at passersby, the Sword had settled along a bench and table in the shade, paintbrush in hand, swiping it over a previously natural portion of wood. Ivory and distinct, for the moment, before other hues would take its place, some proportions already landing on his nose by way of haphazard distraction.
Taking hold of the morning, he’d been up well before the sun settled into the sky, training first within the grounds and along the shoreline, and then returning to labor on matters for the Monster Hunter’s. A few other members had already been delegated to working on the pantry, whose shelves had been lopsided as of late and needing repair, while he chose to remain outside – creating and concocting a sign.
While Belial made a nuisance of himself on the roof, hooting at passersby, the Sword had settled along a bench and table in the shade, paintbrush in hand, swiping it over a previously natural portion of wood. Ivory and distinct, for the moment, before other hues would take its place, some proportions already landing on his nose by way of haphazard distraction.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
