DEIMOS
At the very least, Zariah had been true to her word. On the miniscule advice he’d proffered, because most of his experiences were taut, rigid, kept locked away in the back of his mind for reference (and not meant to assist the newest monarch), she’d held an open forum. Whether or not anyone would voice their opinions, concerns, and wrath was another thing entirely – but there seemed to be safety, amongst and amidst their own kind, their own horde. The temple was an easier trek, familiar, a customary world they could all feel comfortable within, even if the daunting hours pressed and encouraged them to remain vigilant and silent – awaiting an opportunity to speak, or pushing their luck into the fold.
He arrived in a familiar area, mainly due to curiosity, and to be another blackguard in case things went awry with friends. The notice board and enlistment sheet were already prior circumstances surrounding enmity, hostility, and utter ridiculousness; it was clear this might not be any different – interchanging, woven spheres of pending, foreboding damnation on either side. The Reaper glided along the back, within the shadows, intending to press himself against a wall where he could see everyone, everything, register defenses and sieges, calculate and devise – but his voracious outlook ceased for a moment when he spottedRexanna.
For a mere instant, the Reaper’s reticent, stoic gaze slipped; an arch of his brow, an indication of curiosity and apprehension. What was she doing, so close to the monarch and family? Consternation rumbled in his chest; because he knew, he knew the way she maneuvered, the way she galvanized, the way she constructed her own machinations and munitions. He made a point to lock his gaze on her, quickly, swiftly, pointed, narrowed, the piercing depths requiring answers and explanations, before shifting, placing himself along the darker folds, the shadows, arms crossed, vigilance suddenly increased, quiet, hushed, ready for the onslaught.
He arrived in a familiar area, mainly due to curiosity, and to be another blackguard in case things went awry with friends. The notice board and enlistment sheet were already prior circumstances surrounding enmity, hostility, and utter ridiculousness; it was clear this might not be any different – interchanging, woven spheres of pending, foreboding damnation on either side. The Reaper glided along the back, within the shadows, intending to press himself against a wall where he could see everyone, everything, register defenses and sieges, calculate and devise – but his voracious outlook ceased for a moment when he spotted
For a mere instant, the Reaper’s reticent, stoic gaze slipped; an arch of his brow, an indication of curiosity and apprehension. What was she doing, so close to the monarch and family? Consternation rumbled in his chest; because he knew, he knew the way she maneuvered, the way she galvanized, the way she constructed her own machinations and munitions. He made a point to lock his gaze on her, quickly, swiftly, pointed, narrowed, the piercing depths requiring answers and explanations, before shifting, placing himself along the darker folds, the shadows, arms crossed, vigilance suddenly increased, quiet, hushed, ready for the onslaught.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
