[KQ] stonewall

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts Deimos had once been able to resist calls for help – avaricious and mercenary, defending things, people, places, that were his; firmly capable of detachment, of nonchalance, of complete, utter reticence. No one mattered. He didn’t matter. The world didn’t matter. Then, he changed. A massive rumbling ricocheted along the earth, a telltale sign of treachery, of disaster, of ruin. How many times had he been a part of something mountainous and deplorable – the layers of devastation, the demolition, the scaled pinnacles of mayhem and bedlam. Sometimes he’d caused them. Sometimes he’d took part in them. Sometimes he looked at the end results and pondered how much further they’d all have to fall. The cries for help leapt and clawed at his ears, at his senses. He could’ve easily walked away, committed to achieving nothingness again – letting the world rot and wither, decay and ferment, cluster and fester. But his head raised, listened, to the intonations, to the pleas, and another piece of him took hold, beyond the icy king and his isolated, detached throne, beyond the beast who’d chosen to be secluded and wait for death to come take him. So he followed – arriving at the site of the rock slide, eyes taking in the scene. Individuals could’ve easily been caught and trapped beneath the boulders, and he loosened an inhale, an exhale, before proceeding on, staring at the others gathered (Remi, bandaged but clearly not incapable with his unicorn), someone named Phoebe and her infant dragon. He had just himself; armed with weaponry, with conviction, with assurance and fortitude, lined in enchantments and invocations. “I am Deimos,” he ushered to them. “I can try to help.” Deimos has arrived! the last of a line of lasts