[KQ] i wanna give you back the open sky

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame It didn’t end. None of it did – the eerie tunes, the unrelenting insects swarming, attempting to gnaw at his flesh, sink into his wounds. He growled and hissed, but he doubted that would deter them. Vai managed to make it over, closer and closer, so her wind continued to snap along the room, but she could only last so much longer. “How is it going?” He shouted over the gale, the snapping breeze, the masks striving to keep the poison slipping into their lungs; striving to get the hovel occupants’ attention, incapable of seeing what was going on inside, while they were struggling outside. “Could use some help out here,” the Reaper managed to grumble and shout back to them, head tilting, desperate for some sort of answer, swatting at the insects, picking a few off his skin, trying to slam their bodies into the nearby wall, longing to hear a satisfying crunch. He’d had enough of the ongoing nonsense, of not being able to understand or comprehend what was going on. Were they successful? Did they need assistance? Because in this section of the ruins – The dimming light of Amalia’s staff (yet another great sign that he might be steadfastly doomed) caught along the fringes of his net. He grabbed ahold and put it back to use, aiming to toss it over an assemblage of the swarm. Instead of his deadly magic though, because the strain behind his eyelids was just one more damned reminder of how much this quest had cost him, and could continue to maul, he simply tried to stomp on them all. His footfalls were heavy, focused, intending precision in the ferocity, a way for his frustrations and anarchy to remain vivid and clear. -- Deimos attempts to shout to those in the hovel. He finds his net and tries to cover some of the insects, then stomp on them. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace