[seasonal event] fell to the top

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

Deimos may not have been a master orator, but he certainly learned; capable of meticulous, machinating efforts and attempting not to follow any transgressions some previous inhabitants concocted (instead; they’d be new mistakes, trial and error), or when he saw chaos, dramatics, he wasn’t immersed or involved in, he merely witnessed. He’d stuck his foot in a wasps’ nest only the once, and was almost entirely ignored amongst the riot, the din, the throng of gnashing teeth and impending blows, while the Spire Demon lashed out one last time. Though he didn’t recall Jigano’s latest meeting not going well, Deimos had just been another figure absorbing information and brewing, brooding, amidst the columns of hushed, quiet platitudes. The bard even readily admitted others may not arrive if the entire thing was associated with him, which earned a light chuckle, a sideways glance to the ground, then to the sky, loitering on a softened sigh. But when you have something worth saying; he’d apparently earned some sort of gravitas simply because he didn’t always ruminate aloud, kept everything quietly tucked and within, until it was necessary. Perhaps it carried more weight. Maybe it meant nothing. It would all remain to be seen – if some even came, if some even knew who he was, if some even cared. But they should’ve, since, in the end, the events might eventually involve them all. “There is plenty to discuss, but we shall see,” he mumbled, determination forging and firing its way through his throat, but everything else mixed and melded into the same trepidations as before; they couldn’t survive one more blistering congregation. They’d all break and fall apart again. He didn’t want to be the provocateur, the instigator. Which was such an odd thought to process, when it had been a massive contortion to a past life. With Delah though – they hadn’t required even a semblance of agitation to incite and kindle. Inquiry and inquisition had done its part, and fortune had not favored the bold, leading them straight into ire, misery, and a collective set of enigmas the Reaper had yet to fully process. “True. Maybe the meeting will provide some ground rules, or at least a starting point.” He rose from his chosen stump, leaning down to grab ahold of his basket again, fingers fumbling along the snowflake sigil embedded there – cold and chilling, glacial and irreverent – and now he was sliding somewhere in between, uncertain of when and where and how he stood along this world, carving out another niche. But they had their friends back, and for now, for now, for now, that might have been all that mattered. He nodded, ascertaining agreement with the notion of leaving, of winding their way back through to home. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate