the rest will fall in line

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts Perhaps fortune favored the bold, or he’d finally managed to swindle some amount of luck his way. His fractious appeal had earned himself a lurker, on a puff of bizarre glitter, and his eyes glanced upon to encompass what else came along with the sparkles. Maybe this creature was a Fae (he wouldn’t know, he’d never seen one), flowers amidst the decorum, which had been customary only some time ago, lost in the petals and amusement of Fiat Lux (that was dead and gone too, the diversions once aplenty now scattered back into remnant ashes). The obvious difference between this woman and so many others were the wings, and the beast nearly smiled at the sudden kismet. Nearly. What do to thereafter though, because this would be a game of idle manipulation, was on the cusp and weight of his shoulders. Deimos only wanted, craved, needed information. Weren’t they known to be tricksters, deceivers, themselves? Could they see through lies? Or would honesty be the best policy, the quickest way to ensure victory, sagacity, and wisdom over a world, a series of whims, he knew nothing about? The warrior went with the former, shrugging his shoulders, picking up a few more sticks and carrying them to his pile. He struggled to appear indifferent, when the depths of his puncturing gaze measured her stance against the tree. “Lost some friends in the forest.” The Reaper tilted his head, scrutinized, examined, pondered how far he’d have to go to acquire anything, half the journey already over. What if this was already a mislaid cause, and the stranger had no idea of what went on those deep, enigmatic woods? But what if they did haunted him; made him proceed, unclench his jaw, nonchalant fixtures attempting to appear on his face, but perhaps that was an unfurling thing too, because desperation clawed at his rib cage. “Do you know anything about that?” the last of a line of lasts