Deimos
Information came scouring through via Attuned bonds and the natural order, and Deimos stood along the house’s deck, brows furrowing. “Noah has found the wagon destroyed. Ru discovered oxen, but no humans,” informing Darkeye as he came to his own drawn conclusions. Whether it was a trap or not, there were signs that these individuals had been here. Conducting his own notions through the bonds and to the Accepted simultaneously, he shook his head. “Found evidence people have been through the house too.” But no sign of Mildew. Darkeye found tracks by the road.
All at once though – it may not have mattered.
The fog rolled in, yellow and putrid again, rising up to meet whomever happened to be around, twisting along to snag at Hotaru, to meander along Noah, to thread amidst Deimos and Darkeye.
Then the memories started – little bits and pieces of songs and horror and trauma, stinging on the inside and slashing at age-old wounds.
For Hotaru – it would be painfully obvious where the images would go. To death and damnation and the losses of children, no matter how far, how recent, how long it had been since they were taken, swarming around, anxious to greet her once more.
For Noah – times of brethren, of brothers, of loved ones by fires, of Halovian citizens grasping hands and laughing together, all gone and perished by the time the notes hit his ears.
ForDarkeye – moments of friends and family, before everything vanished without a trace, a time before Outlander regards – wars and gods he knew, and understood, from the past.
For Deimos – threads of melancholic notions spurned and spun by family, by cherished and beloved people, all sinking and slinking back into his mind, grasping and toying, playing with the machinations.
He immediately stilled, staring ahead, ramrod straight as the warning was delivered. Do not be fooled, he uttered to Ru and Noah, already beginning to make his way towards them. Turning his head over to Darkeye, his jaw clenched. “There is something causing this.”
And all the while, the memories lingered, coaxing, enticing, yearning for everyone to join them, out into the swamp, into the murk, into the grime.
--
What will you do? No post order!
All at once though – it may not have mattered.
The fog rolled in, yellow and putrid again, rising up to meet whomever happened to be around, twisting along to snag at Hotaru, to meander along Noah, to thread amidst Deimos and Darkeye.
Then the memories started – little bits and pieces of songs and horror and trauma, stinging on the inside and slashing at age-old wounds.
For Hotaru – it would be painfully obvious where the images would go. To death and damnation and the losses of children, no matter how far, how recent, how long it had been since they were taken, swarming around, anxious to greet her once more.
For Noah – times of brethren, of brothers, of loved ones by fires, of Halovian citizens grasping hands and laughing together, all gone and perished by the time the notes hit his ears.
For
For Deimos – threads of melancholic notions spurned and spun by family, by cherished and beloved people, all sinking and slinking back into his mind, grasping and toying, playing with the machinations.
He immediately stilled, staring ahead, ramrod straight as the warning was delivered. Do not be fooled, he uttered to Ru and Noah, already beginning to make his way towards them. Turning his head over to Darkeye, his jaw clenched. “There is something causing this.”
And all the while, the memories lingered, coaxing, enticing, yearning for everyone to join them, out into the swamp, into the murk, into the grime.
--
What will you do? No post order!
we exhume our enemy's bones
we are battling, hungry beasts
we are battling, hungry beasts
