Deimos
Unaware of the treachery lurking far beyond mountains, of dangers emboldening, or rampant deaths scouring the surface (other than the Warden’s), the Sword took the opportunity for stillness and serenity. A moment of archaic denizens, where he could stand and stretch and glance towards mountains – revel in summits, breathe amidst the splendor of the frigid wind. A transfiguration of peace, thing he’d always taken for granted in the midst of chaos and bedlam, layered in pieces and pockets of the realm, hidden, tucked away.
By primitive habits, Deimos took to the Citadel wall. First on wings, and then as human again, content in furs, gazing out over the horizon. Below, along the wild tundra, were the tranquil movements of luxere, maneuvering beneath the wide open sun and sky. Multitudes and layers of ice. Measures and incantations lurking beneath the surface. Caverns and Fangs beyond, beyond, beyond, with furtive, secretive lacquer of their own.
Overhead, Belial drifted, content to be back in something resembling home. Nothing official, but scattered, until other political ties were made. Zuriel made her own sanctity below, pawing through the snow, finding weeds nestled against the stones.
So there he sat – momentary relief chiseled into the parts of his soul that remembered those emotions.
By primitive habits, Deimos took to the Citadel wall. First on wings, and then as human again, content in furs, gazing out over the horizon. Below, along the wild tundra, were the tranquil movements of luxere, maneuvering beneath the wide open sun and sky. Multitudes and layers of ice. Measures and incantations lurking beneath the surface. Caverns and Fangs beyond, beyond, beyond, with furtive, secretive lacquer of their own.
Overhead, Belial drifted, content to be back in something resembling home. Nothing official, but scattered, until other political ties were made. Zuriel made her own sanctity below, pawing through the snow, finding weeds nestled against the stones.
So there he sat – momentary relief chiseled into the parts of his soul that remembered those emotions.
it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites
It's the fire it ignites
