[PQ] Long may you run

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts There was some underlying tension simmering beneath the leaves and eaves, and had Deimos not been so damn preoccupied with the notion of friends being offered to some monster, he might have latched and snagged onto it. Instead, he found his head swiveling back and forth between the two Fae, waiting for fangs to erupt across lips and for talons to extend, blood smoldering and echoing in his ear drums, dreading the inevitable, pondering where he’d have to go from here. Destruction was the first and only notion that sparked, despite Jigano’s calm voice piercing through the apprehension, asking if there was anything of anyone to bring back, and he’d have to bury another one. Something choked down the back of his throat and he attempted to smother the growl burrowing its way into his chest – and then Arduinna spoke again. Hale and whole. Gentle creature. Time to share a memory. A story. His eyes glanced over to the other Fae warrior, and he could feel some portion of his clenched fists shaking, uncurling his fingers to let the trepidation fade away. Should they trust any of them? Was it true? Were they truly unharmed? Were the boasts simply exaggerations and overstatements, meant to distort, meant to deceive, or were there other things at play? The calculating junctures of his mind sparked and seethed; emotions dragged over the muck and mire of the endless forest. They were guests. They could go get their companions. The warrior breathed in and out, biting down the thousands of howls and roars and riotous defiance pervading his essence; saved for later, not for the present, when everything had screeched to a halt, when for some, bizarre reason, they were permitted to grab and seize what was theirs. The depth of his piercing eyes slid over to Arduinna, his head offering a nod, an acknowledgment of gratitude, and while he couldn’t convey it as deeply as he would’ve liked, it was still there, out in the open. “Thank you for help and kindness.” Because she certainly could have led them elsewhere, into more traps, into more furies; and he would’ve questioned her further (why did she do it?), had he not been far more attentive towards Kiada and Amalia again. He heard Jigano’s reassurance towards flicker through the air, paid heed and homage to it, arched his brow at it, because a part of him wanted to return the mischief and disaster – but for now, he wouldn’t press. His companions were too important. Instead, he proffered the glimmer of a smile, long since gone the moment he’d been told about their capture, reinstated with success. He nodded again, no words capable of forming along his tongue now, and simply followed, heading towards the village. the last of a line of lasts