Deimos
Zuriel casually inspected the dog, stopping beside the sled when the two men had ceased to do their timber drop off, dropping her head and breathing in a loud snort – slightly dragonic. From his place on the seats, Belial did nothing but wag an obnoxious fluff of deer tail.
The bundles were placed, and eventually the already-made supply ran out. “I have some more at home,” he acknowledged, intending to drag the sleigh back down the road and to his house, then start again at the top of the street, where they’d left off. It would’ve been easier to continue and disperse without the flicker of ominous, traumatic memories, and maybe that was why his strides were so extended and the pace a bit unrelenting for something that should’ve been a simple walk.
The inquiry blistered and his eyes fell downward, along snow, stones, and previous tracks, jaw clenching for a moment as his hands tightened over the sled’s rope and line. “They might be capable of reading thoughts. Memories. Images.” Taking fears and dreams and hopes and whatever else lingered in the crux of an individual’s head. He swallowed down a multitude of things, boots driving deeper into the powder. “But they cannot replicate the person perfectly.” A shrug of his shoulders lingered there, at the base of his neck, as if he was trying to shake off or repress the shudder threatening to coil down the length of his spine. “I tried to use the Attuned bond to talk to them, and they could not do it.” The only way he’d been able to ensure it wasn’t Amalia outside those walls.
The bundles were placed, and eventually the already-made supply ran out. “I have some more at home,” he acknowledged, intending to drag the sleigh back down the road and to his house, then start again at the top of the street, where they’d left off. It would’ve been easier to continue and disperse without the flicker of ominous, traumatic memories, and maybe that was why his strides were so extended and the pace a bit unrelenting for something that should’ve been a simple walk.
The inquiry blistered and his eyes fell downward, along snow, stones, and previous tracks, jaw clenching for a moment as his hands tightened over the sled’s rope and line. “They might be capable of reading thoughts. Memories. Images.” Taking fears and dreams and hopes and whatever else lingered in the crux of an individual’s head. He swallowed down a multitude of things, boots driving deeper into the powder. “But they cannot replicate the person perfectly.” A shrug of his shoulders lingered there, at the base of his neck, as if he was trying to shake off or repress the shudder threatening to coil down the length of his spine. “I tried to use the Attuned bond to talk to them, and they could not do it.” The only way he’d been able to ensure it wasn’t Amalia outside those walls.
we exhume our enemy's bones
we are battling, hungry beasts
we are battling, hungry beasts
