With dirt on your knees and blood in your teeth

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore

that you are ruined

The shock of watching the unicorn mend her friend, her family, gives the girl enough of surprise and shock to keep her on the ground. Her hands are covered in blood now, but if you happened to stumble in now you’d have no idea where it came from. She watches, wide eyed as she catches her breath, seeing Deimos thank the creature and watching the unicorn pause as though they were deciding something. Slowly, so slowly, she finally stands and ignores the blood on her hands and her clothes, but she doesn’t approach yet.

She sees the unicorn press its nose into Deimos’ palm and she wonders if perhaps this is a similar instance to her and Auni (though the Luxere seemed so sick and weary when she retrieved him, she could feel him in her bones and her heartbeat as she picked him up, told him Isla’s death wasn’t his fault directly, and carried him back to the Rathskeller). Her brows pull together and she slowly approaches Deimos, eyes flickering from him to the Unicorn to see what he says or does, if anything.

and you wonder why he lets you

the butcher

touch him,

the sun

Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

They stared at one another – savage beast and noble creature – and there were suddenly snippets contorted in his chest that he couldn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend – a blur of mountains and flames, light sizzling and blurring behind his eyes, maw in his palm as an inferno pulsed and pervaded into his gloom. There were glens and meadows, copses and canopies, stretches of clifftops and the rush of the ocean against his ears, echoing and bounding towards summits with their icy crowns, blue upon blue upon blue, matching skulls and embittered, broken dreams. It was an invasion of his heart, his mind, his soul, but he did nothing to prevent it, a comforting weight resting there, beckoning. It roared again, then quieted, not havoc, not bedlam, not menace, but her; the unicorn, gentle in her persistence. The Reaper was silent, in awe, touching upon something that was enthralled and wrapped around his essence, his presence, like so many others – Jyoti, Auni, Isuma, Isla…his chest ached and his breath fizzled. The fatigue was gone, but the confusion wasn’t.

He'd always been alone. That had been the pattern. That had been the ritual. That had been his habit.

What was this world – to continue giving him chances, opportunities, to be amongst others?

His eyes slid over to Kiada as she landed, the striking, penetrating gaze surrounded by ignorance, by bewilderment, by the touches, the fringes of apprehension. “I do not know what to do,” he murmured, quiet and uncertain, a plea for help in the shadows of the Spire, along the depths of shrines and newfound pledges, vows, and assurances. This wasn’t an experience he’d ever wandered amongst – there were no swords extended, no daggers drawn, no knives thrown – heart in his throat, despite feeling complete.

We are bonded, you and I the mare curled and coiled in his mind, like a dream, like a stupor, like a haze.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore

that you are ruined

She watches the realization settle, but doesn’t realize the small half smile that ghosts on her lips as she watches the exchange. She doesn’t recall if he’s ever had one before, but there’s a part of her that appreciates being there for him. It’s a transition, and one she rebelled against with Auni (afraid the deer would take the vulture’s place) but she knew the signs. Knew that she couldn’t force him out, that he was there to stay.

She approaches slowly, eyes still on unicorn and man, until she looks to Deimos and his own gaze meets her own. Wiping her blood covered hands on the rest of her clothes, she steps up beside him to look at the unicorn. “Is it bonded to you?” She asks quietly, tilting her head as she inspects the companion. Provided it was, she looks back to Deimos with a small half smile. “It feels weird, I know. But they’ll share in your emotions, and have their own for you too.” She begins, reaching out to press a gentle hand against Deimos’ good shoulder, the one that hasn’t recently been repaired.

“You’ll never have to be alone again.” She says quietly, eyes turning back toward the unicorn with that same soft smile. “It takes some getting used to, though.”

and you wonder why he lets you

the butcher

touch him,

the sun

Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

The Reaper had always seen others with their companions: dragons, kitsunes, hellhounds, connections he’d never thought to forge or even attempt to understand. Here, they did the same, a seemingly symbolic ritual, a coming together union of intertwining minds and souls – Amalia with Jyoti, Kiada with Auni, Jigano with Isuma, Remi with Isla – and didn’t consider himself likely to be a part of it. Kiada approached, closer and closer, perhaps recognizing his apprehension as the unicorn stared him down, became a part of him, sequestering a piece of his warren, labyrinthine mind and everything that came with it. She could wander amidst the dread and the delusions, the desecration and disasters, the convictions and the carefully contorted malice, where he’d been alone, where he’d been content, where he’d been stuck in miles and miles of mire and muck. She might’ve been even now, staring along the fringes and edges, as if she’d been transported to some decadent consignment of hell, and was left unimpressed with her lodgings. “I think so?” He answered with an inquiry of his own, stare rooted to the unicorn’s features despite Kiada’s question; he wouldn’t know, a first time for everything, caught and snagged on something life-changing and altering. He swallowed down the consternation and found no bile, no poison, no vitriol coating his throat.

“Share in my emotions,” he blinked rapidly, then a dry response joined the bizarre onslaught. “I do not have much to portion out,” ending on a wry flicker of something he couldn’t name or fathom. Her hand raised to his shoulder, pressing into his charred clothing, as if she were aware this was difficult for him to experience, that he had no idea what he was doing – his commitments had always been in militia, in violence, in vehemence, in protection and preludes to persecution – not in proffering kindled lives, never alone again munitions. “Now what?” He whispered, completely baffled – the mare maneuvering her regal expression to Kiada, much of the same address; the unknown barreling down around him.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore

that you are ruined

Deimos utters quietly, a question for a question. He’s not certain she’s bonded, but from Kiada’s point of view, she thinks they are. It’s the only explanation. And when he takes in her extra bit of information, digests it and reiterates it, Kiada sighs with a small smile. “You’ll feel theirs too.” She answers as if it’s more than enough. When Auni is anxious, she can feel it. When he’s happy, it influences her that way too. She recalls the way Khairi acted as well, and it’s all basically the same.

But when he looks back at the unicorn and questions everything, what to do now, Kiada smiles at the unicorn and approaches, arm outstretched for the mare to sniff should she wish to. Her gaze flickers toward Deimos with a small shrug and gentle smile. “Well, now you keep living your life the way you did before. Only you have company now.” She says easily, as though it’s the only thing that makes sense. It doesn’t change your life and how you have to live it if you don’t want it to. She just hopes he understands that.

Her gaze remains on Deimos with that same soft smile, despite her hands and body being covered in blood. “Do you want to go back to the Settlement? See if the others have returned?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

and you wonder why he lets you

the butcher

touch him,

the sun

Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Another’s emotions hasn’t been a quandary he’d considered: but there was a flood of calm in between his apprehension, parrying away the unknown, and he swallowed, trying to rationalize everything all at once. His own sentiments were scattered and muted at best, tucked, hidden, cast aside in the heat of moments, when they weren’t required, when he was afraid of how they could be manipulated, twisted, or found lacking. His eyes maneuvered from Kiada to the unicorn, even as the mare outstretched her soft maw to Kiada’s arm, blowing gently, absorbing scents and familiarity; he was still so stupid, so ineffectual, so bewildered, standing there in the shadow of the Spire.

Only you have company now.

If a steed could arch a brow, the mare certainly had, staring back at him through the reel of his considerations, studying, examining, gliding her way through the spiderwebs of his skull. Protection, she offered, quiet and calm. You have my protection. He blinked, silent, incapable of looking anywhere else but at the gray slate and the blue eyes and the horn rising towards the sky; uncertain what it meant to be protected, when that’s all he’d ever done for anyone else.

No – there was a change. This was entirely new and terrifying.

I am Zuriel she proffered, and then said no more.

He swallowed it, Reaper and mountain, absorbed everything as best he could while the world spun beneath his feet and the actions of friends murmured in the distance. They were all bloodied and ruined and marred, but he nodded towards Kiada, incapable of uttering anything else: drained despite the healing, exhausted despite the soothing, assuaging pulse of mended arms and stitched lacerations. Then he could only hope the others had returned: without him, and not into crypts and catacombs and sepulchers.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts