[KQ] i wanna give you back the open sky

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The beatific red light curled and formed in his hand, and there was a moment’s reprieve – an unwinding of pain, soft, not so biting, not so grating, down his forearms, along his shoulders, respite before the next oncoming storm. His eyes ghosted to Amalia, purveyor of the staff, and his heart ached. Lord – when and where did all of them learn how to care so deeply for so many things? Vai pushed the smoke away, and the toxins flooded again, but he breathed through his mask, puzzled and toyed with what to do next. His magic was waning, a warning sent beforehand, so he rose, a little tremulous, leaning heavily on the staff, swatting at the insects thinking to land and bite on his flesh again. Then there was a song. It reminded him of Jyoti, and for a moment, as he raised his head and his gaze rambled in all directions, he thought it was the little starwhale, come to rescue them all with its constellations, galaxies, and sonnets. But it seemed to echo from beneath the knoll, haunting, poignant, calling, beckoning to them? Was it a siren’s wake? Was it a warning, an ultimatum? Or was it something crying and keening for help? He couldn't hear or see anything else though - no hint of what was going on beyond the cluster of dirt and soil. Were they safe? He shouted over to Vervain, hoping to confirm she was safe and sound, as well as they could be, in the void of gas and tunes. "You all right?" Meanwhile, he utilized the staff again, drifting it along some of the more devastating wounds that hadn't been completely mended. Then he grabbed ahold of one of his daggers, slashing at whatever insects happened to come near. -- Deimos tries to use the staff on himself again, and then attempts to attack any insects coming near him with his dagger. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace