With dirt on your knees and blood in your teeth

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

(Continuation from KQ)

He ran.

It wasn’t coordinated or swift, a hitch in his stride from the wounds seeping, lacerated, torn open again as he embarked, lungs quaking, sputtering, wild coughs bounding from his chest as his body desperately tried to expel the poison lingering in its depths. His clothes were ragged, just as flayed as his skin, eyes burning, Amalia’s staff in his hand, occasionally lending him a moment of respite, leaning upon its antlers as he charged his way from the Spire.

He really didn’t care who saw him limping into the sanctuary – his gaze were on the shrine, his mind on the promise and pledge he’d made down in the venomous crypts. It’d been audacity and boldness to even believe they could accomplish their goal; he’d done his best, and even that hadn’t been good enough.

But he could try. He could try to plead to Safrin for them.

The Reaper crashed into the relics, upending some of them, hands shaking, quickly kneeling at the altar – the antlers’ red glow lighting his way, his voice shattering and gasping, clawing and wishing, dreaming and hoping, between the entreaties and appeals. “Safrin,” he started, not knowing how to invoke a deity’s name, not knowing if she’d even bother to glance at him, but if it were for the ones she cherished…”Those in the Spire need you. I think they found the tulmhainar.” His chest heaved and his body ached, quivered, shook, the lacerations grinding across his skin and flesh, but their anguish, their melancholy, could wait – his eyes shifted to the shrine, to the pieces of offerings. He didn’t have anything left to give except the blood pooling in his palms, down the length of his sides. What would the stars want with a broken, ineffectual beast? “Please go help them. Please let them be safe.”

DEIMOS

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

Perhaps no answer is a good answer... For a moment Deimos is covered in a thin veil of starlight, appreciation raining down upon him. There is no time to heal his wounds, no time for words. If Safrin is to answer his pleas, it is not with him that she can afford to spend her time...

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore

that you are ruined

Amalia and Deimos are gone again, Jigano too, and Kiada finds herself venturing out in the winds to try and get a birds eye view as to the whereabouts that they might have gone to. At first she sees nothing, the same old things over and over again from her flight path. But then after her wings grow tired and she begins her descent, that’s when she sees him. Deimos, running like his life depended on it yet she cannot see anything else behind him. And she follows him up above until he nears the Shrine, her head tilting vulture form at the complete “that’s not like you at all” confusion she feels.

Yet as she descends toward him, shifting into herself as she touches the ground, she sees the blood and the scratches, the red in his eyes and face and she immediately rushes to him at the last end of his prayer. She doesn’t know if he has enough of it in him to call for her, and she quickly drops to her knees as well to help, not knowing the cause of the fright. But as she does, there’s starlight that sprinkles down over him to heal his wounds, and no voice beyond that. Concern lies within her eyes and she turns her attention from the Shrine to Deimos, chewing on her lip.

“What has happened?” “What is so bad that you call upon a god for help?”

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

There was the weight of silence pressed over his spine, crackling and distorting while his lungs heaved, while the pain ricocheted throughout his frame. Then there was starlight, flickering against his eyes and over his shoulders, but nothing more, and he was afraid it meant he’d failed again – worthless and inept, ineffectual and stupid. There weren’t any Destined here, in the shadows of the glade, in the haunted doldrums of his mind, cast away and aside. He’d only bothered because of Amalia and her piety, because he thought he might be able to save them in a different way, because he couldn’t stay in that sullen valley of death. The only luck he’d had was that he still remained, existed, even as his rib cage heaved with the effort, even as the blood curled down his wounds and onto the grass, even as his entire form shuddered and shook. But that wouldn’t be enough for them; and he should’ve known, after all his other experiences, that the gods would never glance upon him with anything but distaste, apathy, and reticence – the same way he’d glanced at the world for what felt like centuries.

He could hear the slide of feathers, the depths of plumage near his ear, and for an instant, he turned toward it, hackles raised, a predator cornered, bent, and broken. The depths of his eyes shifted as he recognized Kiada, and then a new shame coiled over him, for he was worthless once more, with an audience to note his failures. He wanted to fan, curl, run away from her concern and apprehension, didn’t deserve it, not when there were others to save and venom in his veins; chest puffing from the effort of simply inhaling and exhaling, a choke, a gasp, ichor staining over the remnants of any once-closed injuries, gashes, and cuts. The only thing he held onto was the staff, like a lifeline, like a current, striving to swallow down the bile cloaking over his throat, resting in the back of his mind, a disease, potent and deadly. “Amalia said there was a tulmhainar in the Spire. So we went in after it.” Then there’d only been smoke and fumes, insects and marks, burning flesh marking its way down his shoulders and sides, reminding him of mortality, of waning strength, of how useless he’d become. He’d tried, and for some precious moments, it had mattered. Just as quickly, it didn’t. “There was poison, fire, and insects. I had to leave. She told me to summon Safrin.” He gasped and clawed for air again, eyes looking up towards the shrine, one hand managing to make a fist and slam it into the ground, frustration peeling away all the nonchalance, all the acrimony, leaving only remorse and disgrace in its wake. Fear made itself known too, in the depths of his heart, pulsing and pervading, tired and torn. Then he struggled to stand, pushing and shoving all his energy into his arms, into his legs. “I have to go back.”

I have to go get them. Even uttered quietly, it sounded so stupid, so inept, so baffling. But determination was all he had left now.

DEIMOS

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

From somewhere to the duo's left there comes a thrashing sound, accompanied by the thunder of hooves. Panic snorts, teeth that flash crimson and tear at the earth. The most unlikely of scenes: an infant landshark trying to attack a unicorn.

Neither appear real, so strangely coloured and formed at they, but quite real they are.

Small or not, the landshark's teeth erupt from the earth, dragging and tearing at the soft soil as the unicorn kicks and lashes out. Her hooves, like daggers of flint strike the young shark's nose but it does little good to dissuade its viscous earthen attacks. Blood speckles down her flank, a panicked foam sprayed against her chest as if the ocean has somehow risen to meet her.

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore

that you are ruined

“Amalia said there was a tulmhainar in the Spire.” He begins and Kiada’s pale skin shivers, goosebumps raising with the understanding of it all. She hears him say that they went in after it, and for a moment she feels like the mother, wanting to chastise her children for going so recklessly into danger without at least consulting her first. What if they didn’t make it out? Did anyone else know they were gone? She has so many questions, but her lips remain tightly shut, a firm line of disapproval as he continues on.

Poison. Fire. Insects. Amalia telling him he must go summon Safrin. And while Safrin hasn’t appeared, she has healed his wounds. But that doesn’t mean he’s healthy. She watches his blue gaze slip toward the Shrine, listened to him as he gasped and slammed a fist into the earth. And then, when he tells her he has to go back and tries to get up, she gets in his way. “No.” She says, the most firm and commanding her voice had been to him yet. “No, you will not go back.” It hurts to say it, but Amalia is a smart woman.

She trusts the Leopardess to be able to make it out of there alive.

She opens her mouth to say something else when suddenly there’s movement – a thrash and trees that drift and sway with whatever is causing it. And when her gaze slips toward it, she notices it’s a unicorn and her stomach sinks when she views what’s attacking it. “Deimos.” She says, head not leaving the direction of the poor unicorn before she shifts into a vulture and tries to use her talons against the landshark.

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

By the time he’d managed to stand, Kiada had become a wall in front of him – defiant and commanding. If he hadn’t been irritated, exasperated, apprehensive, and wounded, he might have been appreciative and commending the girl’s seditious efforts. He ignored the way his entire body ached, the way his lungs rattled in his chest, the way blood continued sliding down the length of his arms, the way his eyes stung and burned – turning that piercing, vicious gaze on her. “Let me pass,” he growled, still a menacing, daunting force, even within his vulnerable state, intending to either ram into her or merely outpace her (not necessarily a given, with how much his figure yearned to collapse). Jigano was more important than standing idly by, waiting for something to happen. He didn’t even let the thought of losing Amalia rush to his head (already there, really, churning and burning within his mind, barbaric and wrong, not intending to repeat past mistakes).

Then there was something else ahead – catching his attention, giving him a moment’s reprieve from any further movement except the rough intake of breath. Thrashing gave way to the intriguing set of hoofbeats, rushing across the grass, a unicorn, like Isla, and he stepped forward the slightest bit, trying to rationalize the occurrence. Some other shape made its presence known, chasing after the equine, teeth snapping, ivories flashing, like a shark but conformed to the earth instead of the sea.

Something coiled in his chest.

He advanced, slowly, steadily, watching ichor linger on the beast’s flank, predator instincts snapping back into him, even if he was mauled, even if he was brutalized. Kiada permitted him to move only because she was in the air, hovering, intending to save the creature.

A part of him pondered if this was his chance. If he could just utilize this opportunity to head straight back into the Spire, get them all out, everyone safe and secure.

But then there was a pulse raging in his mind, a rising need to assist, and he turned away from the Spire, stare occasionally cast in that direction (hope lingering in his skull; that silly, stupid emotion that did nothing), slowly meandering in the landshark and unicorn’s direction. He’d have to time his strike perfectly – his speed was gone, his mobility severely decreased. One hand grabbed hold of a throwing knife still left on his belt, the other still enclosed over the staff, fingers positioning carefully, precisely, on the sharpened edges. He drew his arm back, and then let the stiletto fly, hoping to catch the predator off-guard, penetrate, lacerate its side, ceasing the chase.

DEIMOS

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

Landsharks are not particularly known for their cunning when it comes to strategy or defense. They are, after all, gargantuan creatures that defy physics and biology by living somehow beneath the surface of the soil and breaching it to devour creatures whole.

So there is no effort made on the part of the youngster to avoid Kiada's claws as they rake down its side, nor to dodge the blade suddenly flying towards it. Striking the creature right in the eye, the young landshark snaps its teeth, moving away from the unicorn towards the man lit by blood-red light from the staff. The harpy is too high a target, the unicorn not quite so interesting as this brute of a man.

Burrowing through the earth and leaving it churned like organic waves, the creature lunges directly for Deimos.

Coding base by Sky!

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore

that you are ruined

For a moment Kiada wonders if she’s going to have to fight Deimos for him to stay. Usually, she doubts she’d win, but in his state she thinks she actually has a chance. He told her to be a protector, like she’s always been, and she takes it to heart as her icy gaze devours Deimos whole. Yet the distraction occurs, and she shifts while silently praying that the man wouldn’t bolt on her. She wonders if he’s contemplated it, the way she soars toward the landshark and feels her talons connect with the side of the creature. She relishes quietly at the blood that drips down the points of it, coating her tail feathers in a scarlet hue.

She zips upward, aiming to dive back down on the creature but as her gaze snaps to where it had been, she realizes it's gone now; swallowed up by the earth beneath as it churns and heads toward Deimos. A croaky, gruff screech leaves Kiada’s beak and she diverts her course toward the creature — hoping perhaps both Deimos and her can pin it between each other, talons and sharp bone breaking beak open and ready to clamp down on the back of it should it jump out toward Deimos.

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

There was only the smallest inkling of smug satisfaction as his blade struck the creature straight into its eye. He was too fatigued, too weakened, to feel anything victorious, especially as the knife didn’t stop it – turning towards the crimson essence of the staff, disappearing down below the earth.

Perhaps that would be enough. Perhaps he could move on towards the Spire. Perhaps he could be done with everything, crawl into the terrain, loam, and soil too, become a part of its darkening denizen. Enough, he wanted to whisper, I have had enough. The fatigue pulsed and drained at him, his body hissed and recoiled, every movement, every gesture, a pull at some wounds, a draw for blood and death. He didn’t welcome it – but knew its chords, its factions, its threshold.

Then the landshark returned, launching from the dirt, and he didn’t move – barely inhaling, exhaling, breaths softened while underneath he was barely anything but savage and feral, an acrimonious beast waiting, waiting, waiting, for desecration, for disaster, for ruin. He could see Kiada’s harpy talons reaching; his life drain magic wouldn’t be applicable, not with her in such a range, not with his strength barely keeping him upright. So, on naught more than trained, honed impulse, first a warrior, then an untamed, wild behemoth, he slid a sword out of his belt, and despite every protest in his arms, slashed at the incoming creature.

DEIMOS

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

Caught and caged, too young to know better, too wild and powerful to think it had anything to fear. Irreparable damage was done to it by the harpy's talons, its one eye an oozing mass of blood with a dagger still protruding from it. Still, even between a rock and a hardplace as it was, it chose to dive. Chose to attack. Chose the rock.

Deimos swipes left the mouth of the young shark and utter mess of flayed skin, but momentum would not be dominated by steel. Up to the reaper's elbow the thing flew, teeth grinding downwards and pulling skin and muscle away until bone could be seen. That of course meant that the steel of the Reaper's sword had penetrated low into its throat, cutting and gorging, stripping life-giving components away from its body.

It tried to rally, tried to bite harder, further, higher, but could not. With one eye, glaring and shocked, the surprise of youth a dying spark, the creature succumbed to its wounds.

The smell of blood was hot and tangy, catching in the nostrils of the unicorn as her tulip-like ears flickered forward. The uncertainty was not out of fear, but a weighing of options. Whatever internal thoughts were had, with eyes narrowed ever so slightly the midnight creature approached. Be still. She said into Deimos' mind, her words like steadfast iron. A lodestone for the living. Lowering her horn to the ruined mass of his arm, her eyes closed as a blackened aura trickled forth, knitting back together the damaged flesh, ridding the man's heart and mind of the pain, and infusing him with the energy lost beneath the spire.

---

*** this healing ability is too strong normally, but hand-waving it for cinematic purposes ;)

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore

that you are ruined

She aims for the landshark, spotting Deimos as he raises his sword, and for a moment she thinks she’ll get it until the blade swipes through the creatures mouth and Kiada banks hard to avoid colliding with Deimos. She beats her wings, flecks of blood slipping from her tail feathers as she spreads them and turns back to land upon the soft earth. But in the few moments it had taken her to turn back around, she misses the main attack. She spots blood and bone and she croaks loudly as she lands upon the soft, blood spattered ground. She shifts into herself, watching the landshark fall away before she tries to rush toward Deimos.

But she trips in her attempt, slipping against the blood in the grasses, she slides to the ground with arms that are tinged with blood. And when she rises, trying to rush to him to figure out how to help him, the ebony Unicorn approaches him, head bowed and horn into his mangled arm.

And she watches with wide eyes from the ground on shaky arms as he’s patched back together, as if nothing had happened, not here nor what came before it.

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

There was half a second where he thought he had it; the landshark would be decimated, the unicorn safe, and he could move on with his life, with his brooding, with his foreboding, ominous essence. Steel hit and sliced; but then more and more came upon, teeth sinking into flesh, into skin already lacerated and torn, muscles suddenly pulled away from marrow and bone – his lungs choked into a deafening roar, a guttural groan, an audible twist of pain and anguish, nothing more to do but loosen a primordial howl. Exhausted and drained, he presumed that was the end again, his finale, his curtain call, not by the poison seeping into his veins, not by the fire scorched over his frame, not by the insects’ and their gnawing fangs, but from some random circumstances. All he’d wanted to do was run back to the Spire. All he’d wanted to do was help.

And now all he was doing was falling apart, piece by piece.

He could see Kiada coming, but it hardly mattered – no matter her protective efforts, he’d already kindled and incensed his own mortality. His breath rasped down the burning wares of his throat and could do more, not in the blinding terror, not in the blistering agony. Even as the landshark perished, still entangled along his arm, it didn’t matter. He’d likely be joining it sooner rather than later, when his blood pumped dry, or when gangrene set in, settled over his roots and ate him whole.

He didn’t cry for help. He didn’t do anything but bow his head and wonder when he’d succumb.

The Reaper didn’t expect the unicorn in front of him, the narrowed eyes, the sudden command echoing through his skull. He raised his head as best he could, staring straight into its gaze, softening into its demand because there was naught else he could do but wait for a scythe to cut into his own life. Her horn lingered near his decrepit arm, with its bones sticking out, with its ichor draining, with its ruined, decrepit eaves and arches. Perhaps he’d never swing a sword again. Perhaps he’d never hold a shield properly. Perhaps he’d sink into the stones and the earth, never awaken, poor Kiada left to tell everyone he’d perished for being a colossal, ineffectual, useless, vile coil of ash and dust. Useless, his tempestuous mind echoed. For all his strength, he’d truly become nothing.

Then the unicorn was doing something, and he watched, eyes widening, as Stygian auras and sable endeavors bled into the scene, as his flesh was knitted back together, whole, renewed, as if it’d never been touched, and his frame, his figure, surged back into vitality, as if he’d never been marred, ruined, or touched by the prowess of fire. It’d been like Isla’s light and fervor in the cave, and he was unworthy, undeserving, of the unicorn’s efforts. “Thank you,” he whispered, standing there, stupefied and bewildered, hand instinctively reaching for its ears, then refraining – uncertain what to do, his voice thick with reverence and loss and uncertainty.

DEIMOS

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

Before the unicorn would pull back its head completely, it paused, waited, considered.

This soul had risked its life for her without thought or hesitation. Had lost skin and bone and blood, enduring the pain with ease, taking her healing as an afterthought rather than demanding it.

Something inside of her body trickled, eased, decided.

Like a breath of ash and flame made whole and light and balanced, the unicorn's soul submitted to the reapers, melding against it as her velvety muzzle pressed into his palm. He smelled of death and dirt, but there was a world inside of his heart that was now opened to her. Fields of memory, a life unlived, a king of ice who nonetheless burned with vivacity. A field that she too was present in.

---

Congratulations! Heather has used her MP to buy a unicorn companion for Deimos!