[RA] ravines below

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Eternally careful, Deimos only stepped aside from lanterns and lights for a moment – ensuring Erebos was close at hand, even if occupied with another youth nearby. The laughter was enough to reassure, though rapid glances were constant, in between opening his bag of holding and snagging at the remnants of ice as Sunjata made his way over. “This one does not seem as cheery,” he gestured, dark and dry humor infused, with his jawline to the general periphery of lightning overhead and darker shadows; perhaps an omen as to why his trepidation lingered tight in his chest – between waiting for Evie and the festival itself, he remained steadfast, on guard, and spine straight, a constant reeling alert as if anticipating something monstrous and disastrous. He’d often thought they wouldn’t have to live like that after the Family; but the weather and other extenuating circumstances meant he’d be a dutiful hound hovering over his son and guaranteeing they wouldn’t be here for too long.

Regardless, as the youth roamed nearby under bounding curls and an innocent outlook on asinine weather, he snagged at the bits of ice, waiting for Sunjata to do the same with unicorn proportions and the inevitable exchange.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

Luckily, Sunjata isn’t really prone to stepping away too much either. So focused as he is on the lanterns and little company he harbors these days, his own bag of holding sits in his hand as he and Deimos step to the side for the already agreed upon plan they’d just made. “Yeah.” He admits, wrinkling his nose as he reaches into the bag and pulls out a jar filled with multihued shavings of unicorn horns, glittering with the potential of healing at hand.

“I wonder if it has to do with the screaming rain?” He asks, glancing at the jar before he reaches over to hand it to Deimos, prepared to take the chilled jar of ice in return to place back in his bag of holding to take back home to King’s End.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

It seemed some of the humor was lost, and any lighter portions Deimos intended to extend, especially for his own benefit, dimmed and fell off into the eaves. He sighed and shook his head, snagging at the jar of materials, half-watching Erebos fill his plate and start talking to another child. “I would not be surprised. Moreso glad when it is over.” The swing of the melancholic-ridden skies, anyway. Whether or not Deepfrost had more intentions would remain to be seen, and LongNight always had its own parallels and issues.

Regardless, he handed over the ice, the glass cold upon fingers, exchanging for unicorn proportions. He wouldn’t be showing it to Zuriel, but the healing gestures might be enough, eventually, to solidify some weight on another’s sojourn into danger. “Thank you. Need anything else?” If not, they could likely return to the festivities, one more highlight for their regions taken care of and decided.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

SUNJATA

the flood

'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading

“Gods, same.” Sunjata says with a soft laugh, a small smile tugging on his face at the mention of the scream rain. It had been jarring each and every time it happened while unexpected, which had only made it harder for him to sleep despite the circumstances. Either way, he hands over the jar of unicorn shavings, scooped up from the usual haunts of the unicorns in his region sharpening their horns and leaving them behind like little dust shards.

He takes the ice jar in return, the chill against his hand extremely noticeable before he’s tucking the jar away into the bag of holding and straightens up to hoist it back over his shoulder. “Thank you, too.” He offers, shooting Deimos a small yet lopsided smile of gratitude. “No, I think I’m good on my end. Do you need anything else?” He asks, figuring it was only fair he ask in return in case Deimos did need or want something else.

you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do

A sleek shape slips between the trees, barely disturbing the undergrowth as it moves. A Cat Sith prowls the forest edge, body low and fluid as it circles the area with measured intent.

Its eyes catch the light briefly before vanishing again behind a trunk, only for its silhouette to reappear moments later from a different angle. Every movement feels deliberate, practiced, as though it is mapping the space as much as watching it.

It does not rush to approach, nor does it retreat, content to stalk the perimeter and observe from the shadows, waiting to decide whether engagement is worth the effort.

---

Cat Sith Areas Found: King's End, Greatwood — Uncommon A terrible omen in the woods, the Cat Sith takes the form of a black feline with a white spot upon its chest. It lingers nears the gravemounds of the freshly buried. Fae myth dictates that the creature will try to steal a soul away from its intended route, so that it might never reach the gods. Challenge Rating: Moderate | Mythical HP: 422 | To Hit: +50 | Dmg: 18 Movement: Walk 40 ft.; Climb 30 ft.; Leap 20 ft. SPECIAL SKILLS Omen of the Barrow: its presence chills the air and unsettles the living near fresh graves; Soul Lure: attempts to draw a departing spirit off its path with mesmerizing circles and purring; Shadow Meld: slips into surrounding darkness, becoming difficult to notice unless directly watched

TRAITS Silent Paws: moves without sound across leaf litter and stone; Night Eyes: sees cleanly in moonlight and gloom; Gravewatcher: patiently stalks grave mounds and burial paths, alert to any disturbance; Soul-Scent: seems to “smell” fresh spirits and recent deaths ACTIONS Silent Pounce: springs from concealment to pin and threaten a target; Gravebound Hiss: a piercing hiss that saps courage and compels retreat from the grave site; Spirit Snatch: lashes at a newly freed soul, trying to divert it from the gods’ road; Moonstep: darts from shadow to shadow to reposition without breaking line of sight

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Taking the container, he nodded, sliding it gently back into his bag of holding. “No. Thank you.” His eyes caught briefly on movement nearby; and eternally on high alert, he watched for a few moments, maneuvering his gaze between steadfastly watching Erebos, and then the other semblances. Only upon realization that it was a cat sith, and not something intending to harm (rather, just as curious and nosey as the rest of them), he snorted, shaking his head. “Enjoy the rest of the festival.” With what they could anyway – and he began to walk back to Erebos and any other company the youth had snagged in the interim, business conducted and finalized.

[FIN]

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same