wash away our sore eyed souls
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Hollowed Grounds Registrar

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 2 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 29 - Luck: 17 - Int:
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#15
KIADA

The Harpy, by no means, drinks often if at all. It’s no surprise, really, that the liquid hits her so hard so fast, especially the way she can feel her stomach rumble as she eyes the breads briefly. Her gaze lifts to Amalia as she speaks, and Kiada can’t help but keep the grin on her face. “Right?” She says as though it’s in disbelief too, as though she’d needed to be pinched to realize it were real life. But when Amalia begins to fuss over Deimos, and Deimos shoots her that glare of daggers, she sits back in her chair a bit and raises the glass to him before chuckling quietly to herself.

She listens to Deimos’ tale, as though he blames her for not returning to find Amalia when her chuckles die and she frowns simply. “I probably would’ve fought you to stay, to be honest.” She shrugs, glancing to Jigano and Amalia apologetically. “I love you guys, but he was in rough shape to go back, and –” she pauses abruptly, looking to Deimos with that similar stare he had given her. “– who knows if you would’ve even gone back in time? What if no one was there?” She replies, before her eyes flit away from Deimos toward the bottle to pour herself another drink, because why not? She’s feeling pretty good right now.

When Deimos asks Amalia if she wants to see it, Kiada’s gaze flickers toward Jigano as he stands and offers an arm before she leans forward a bit. “Can’t she just come in? Auni comes in all the time and Isla goes into the infirmary of all things?” She drawls, huffing to herself slightly before she takes a deep sip from her glass and stands slowly. “Oh, side note about that, Auni would love to meet her. He wanted to hang out with Isla but, you know, since he kind of accidentally killed her he always just feels bad when he sees her.” She rolls her shoulders again in a slight shrug before looking to Jigano with a bright grin, as though she news of what she’d said about her own Luxere was common knowledge. “Deimos' unicorn is pretty though.” She adds.
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
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#16

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON
IT ROSE TOO SOON
AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD


"Good," is all she says in reply to Kiada's refusal to let Deimos back in, nodding to show that she bears no ill will toward the girl. Indeed, she is grateful- after a point there was nothing any of them could do, and to risk one other would have been too much, too much, too much for her to bear. Her heart breaking a little at the mention of Safrin, Amalia swallows down a new lump of bile. "She heard you. She told me so, before..." Before she fell, she does not conclude. It is still too painful to look at, to think. Slipping her hand into the behemoth's, the girl once more closes her head and sighs. The world is spinning a little already. She does not think she can bear for it to crumble any more.

A landshark, a unicorn, a tulmhainar, the Spire. What a mistifying day it has been for them all. At last leaning away from Deimos, Amalia looks back at her cup, surprised to find it empty. She can feel it burning in her belly, dulling the ache of fear and loss. It takes her a moment to hear his question, but when it does get through the fog of her mind the baker glances up with a vivid blink. "See her?" she repeats, as though this was the strangest and most wonderful thing she has heard today. "It's- she's- here?" Rising unsteadily to her feet, one hand reaching up to steady Isuma, the gilded girl looks around. "How big is she? She can come inside- did you really leave her out there?" But she isn't judging, isn't angry: it is something close to laughter in her voice, almost happy, almost relieved.

Almost.

Grabbing hold of Deimos' hand, Amalia makes a beeline for the front door of the shop, ready to throw it open and meet the newest member of their little family, prepared to offer it all the love in her fractured heart, just as she does for everyone else.

a m a l i a
You said it's life that moves too much
We're losing touch
But I'm not losing you


Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#17
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
The clamor on him, on his faults, on his offenses, on his inability to get back to the Spire via Kiada’s insistence seemed to spark some sort of camaraderie  - jovial and glad he couldn’t return. He took another long swig of his drink and wished it would burn him right there on the spot, the we cannot live without risk statement spearing and harpooning him somewhere in the middle. What if no one was there? they prodded and made sense, even in the Harpy’s drunken state, and he had half an inclination lower his head and pout, sulk, brood, feeling no need to answer the inquiries. Not now. Not when they’d survived and made it past this point, dug deep into their sorrow and were left out in the open, fending for themselves. Kiada’s rambling diatribes though did cause him to raise his brows, lift his skull, because he hadn’t heard that particular tale of LongNight, and things made a lot more sense, even with the plunge of alcohol coiling itself amidst their gathering.

Even still, when he stood up from the chairs, from the tables, one hand enclosed in the baker’s, he grabbed hold of the remaining liquor near Kiada and shoved it into his arms – the shallowest snicker touching over his lips.

Then, despite all the predilections, the exhaustion, the mental fatigue, they still wanted to see his companion. His companion - bizarre and confounding, but still no less real, a tangible, corporeal thing right outside the door. Placing the bottles down on the floor, he opened the bakery door, out into the vivid, cool evening, a press of chill curling against his skin, a promise of something from another time, another world (and he almost went back to it, right then and there) – the unicorn rising from her guarding position.

Unspoken, unsaid, because there were connections and bonds now, the mare took hold of the invitations and presided in with little to no fanfare: a recognizable staff clutched in her maw. She dropped it into his waiting (sheepishly) grasp, before her own remarkable blue gaze took in the rest of them. The darker layers of her silver coat were varnished in the crisp moonlight, traced over foundations of earth and spirits and essences of enigmatic, ethereal, otherworldly connotations – something he didn’t deserve, wasn’t worthy of, a notion he rekindled and incensed over and over, struggling, striving, to remind everyone and everything that he was naught, he was naught –

“This is Zuriel,” he offered into the hushed platitude, allowing Amalia’s inquiries to be answered by the sight of the animal alone. The noble beast dipped her head, and rounded her stare to the baker first, just the touch of mischief emboldening her features as they slid back to the Reaper in the most knowing candor and veracity.

She shared his mind, after all.

This is the one… she murmured and teased, and he shifted off to the side, while the mare went to bow her head before Amalia, a soothing, assuaging blessing glowing from the tip of her sapphire horn. The shield of Safrin she crooned, and the beast’s eyes narrowed, perplexed but only for a moment, and then the unicorn billowed a very soft breath in Amalia’s hair, watching the loosened tassels work their way upward, bemused.

Satisfied for now, she advanced upon Jigano, diligent in her impending, healing properties, following with the same pattern, the same ritual, as she advanced, attempting to mend what had been broken, what had been gnarled, what had been gnashed out there in the Spire. The bard? she intonated - such impressive knowledge she clucked back and forth, and the Reaper fought not to roll his eyes. Zuriel raised her head and extended out her ivories to nip at the clothing along the man’s shoulder, tugging and pulling because she could –

And then there was Kiada – looking only a little worse for wear with the apparent drunkenness, but the unicorn paid no mind. The assuaging process followed her there too, lowering her head to brush against the girl’s cheek, firebrand, the youth who dared to stand up to the warrior, especially when he was being ridiculous. Quite brave, earning the equine’s approval, a slow wink, before she returned to the center of the bakery, done with her business.

“Show off,” Deimos mumbled.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#18
Jigano tilted his head, a flicker of amusement breaking through his weariness at how quickly Kiada had gotten tipsy. From her appearance as a hardened warrior he would have expected her to drink Deimos under the table. This side of her was unexpectedly endearing, and his lips quirked into a tired smile at her offhanded mention of loving him and Amalia. ”I’m not sure he was any safer with the landshark,” the bard pointed out, a hint of his old teasing making it into his tone, even as he slipped a fond glance to Amalia’s quiet approval of the Harpy’s protectiveness. He understand exactly where she was coming from…

But he also understood how Deimos must have felt, and knew he would have done the same in his tall friend’s place.

Seeing a unicorn was a far brighter prospect than dwelling on the morning’s events, especially since he would have to bring them up again soon enough. The point about Isla was well-made, but then, Isla had been a human before she had been a unicorn, with a human’s understanding of common sense behavior in a building, and a human’s sharp intellect, even in her new body. But Kiada also had a good point about Auni (and for that matter, Isuma and Jyoti).

It was the second time Isla’s name fell from the Harpy’s lips that struck Jigano to stillness, eyes widening in surprise. He’d heard something of that night from Sam, but he hadn’t made the connection between Auni and Isla’s death. The wound was no longer raw, but it still hurt, and he drew in a sharp, interrupted breath, the world spinning sideways as he remained at the table while the others headed for the door. He followed them automatically, if slowly, glassy-eyed and trying to fit the tearing open of that emotional scab into the rest of the day’s griefs and losses. Amalia had come back to life again, or a semblance of it, and Isuma purred encouragingly on her shoulder, but the chatty bard had gone silent and still as they all ambled to the door and then back in again, joined by a significantly larger presence.

So lost was he in the past that it wasn’t until the touch of Zuriel’s horn that he started out of his reverie, the poison washing from his eyes, his throat, his blood beneath her ministrations. ”Thank you, Lady Zuriel,” he murmured, blinking back a betraying flicker of tears as he focused on the unicorn who had chosen Deimos, seeing her for herself and not the black-furred form that had once been his friend. He could not look at Auni, innocent creature that he was, not under the weight of Kiada’s revelation, but instead he turned to pour himself another double shot and knock it back, seeking the numbness that strong alcohol could bring.

”There is… something else,” he began hesitantly, trying to force himself to concentrate on the present and the future. A future that might well hold more death and grief for all of them… ”The last thing the Tulmhainar told me before she died. Something that… that we may need, now more than ever.” He took a deep breath, his first one untainted by poison, and relished it for a moment because he blew it out again. ”We need to go back down there again.” He couldn’t look at Amalia, and Kiada’s words still stung, so it was Deimos his eyes sought out, grim and pleading as he met his friend’s gaze.
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Hollowed Grounds Registrar

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 2 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 29 - Luck: 17 - Int:
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Posts: 1,674 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#19
KIADA

The alcohol burns in her stomach, and she wants to get more of it before Amalia grows distracted. A small huff of a laugh leaves Kiada’s lips as Amalia unsteadily rises – knowing she’ll do the same (and she promptly does). Instead her eyes drift to Deimos as if to say “Yeah, you left her outside! Rude!” But she doesn’t voice them, not as Amalia begins to move outside and the rest of the group follows them. She turns to eye the alcohol once more before Deimos swipes them away with a snicker. Stumbling slightly, she tries to move toward him, but they’re already moving toward the outdoors.

Rude.” She calls after Deimos, swaying slightly on her feet. She doesn’t even notice as her words reach Jigano, a blunt truth to a horrible situation, especially for such a sweet companion who knew no better. And so, with it as everyone went outside, she follows the group toward the unicorn, smiling softly toward the creature as Deimos introduces her to Jigano and Amalia. The creature moved toward Amalia and then Jigano, and then her and she reaches up to place a hand on her neck and pet her softly as she brushed her head against her cheek.

The Harpy leans into the Unicorn, and smiles at the softness. She looks back toward the mare as she pulls away and notices a wink which gives Kiada a quiet fit of giggles. She calms herself as she looks toward Deimos and he speaks. Then, she ambles after the creature back into the Bakery when Jigano speaks. Her eyes widen and she huffs quietly. “What?” She slurs, her eyes drifting toward Deimos with a raised brow, then to Amalia with an almost “please gods not again” look about them.
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
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#20

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON
IT ROSE TOO SOON
AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD


She rises too swiftly, a little dizzy, blinking as the world spins a little, twisting and swimming in her gaze. A little unsteady, she focuses on her hand in his, her fingers lacing carefully among his, anchoring herself down. At least the prospect of meeting a unicorn - his unicorn - is enough to briefly distract her from her brooding, and her face is radiant as she brings him along, dark eyes wide and glittering with excitement. When the door opens Amalia initially catches her breath, because it's red-

Oh wait, no. That's her staff.

Her first thought is that the unicorn is beautiful. Her second thought is that bringing it into the bakery may have been a terrible idea, because the already cozy space has become suddenly small, dwarfed down the majestic creature with intelligent blue eyes (blue like his). Her third thought is rain on a rocky coast, old songs and new stories, the sagacity of age. It takes her a moment to realize that these thoughts are not hers, but Jyoti's, flooding their bond through her slightly drunken haze. The little whale coos starlight to the mare, swimming around her in curious inspection as she lowers her head to look at Amalia, causing the girl to catch her breath. "Hello, Zuriel," the baker murmurs, reaching out to gently caress a perfectly sculpted cheek.

The dark mare moves off to greet the others in their strange little family, and Amalia steps back into Deimos' orbit, unabashedly reaching for his arm to wrap around her shoulders. "What's it mean? Zuriel?" she murmurs, arcing her neck to look at his face, her own settling neatly against his shoulder. "I think Jyo likes her."

It takes Jigano's statement a minute to cut through her haze, but when it does her reaction is swift and strong, body tensing as her head swings around, dark eyes fixing on him with a blazing disbelief. "What?!" the baker echoes Kiada, but does not stop there. Pulling against Deimos' embrace, ready to charge over to Jigano and shake him should the behemoth let her go, Amalia's tone is a little wild, a little feral, a little harsh."We barely made it out of there - we all almost died - Safrin- Safrin--! And you want to go back?"

a m a l i a
You said it's life that moves too much
We're losing touch
But I'm not losing you


Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#21
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
They drifted amidst the parallels and sagacity, calm and content for the moment, and his breathing comes easier, without the smoke, without the fumes, without the grating edges of death looming between. Their reactions seemed blissful – the unicorn’s own satisfaction curled along his mind, helped diffuse the fringes, until some strange serenity seemed to pass over him and he was simply there, existing without the atrocities, without the animosity, without the acrimony clinging to his soul. His hands wiped over the staff, still red but slightly stained with his blood, aiming to remove the ichor, but then, looking down and realizing his clothes were still marred with the same indiscretions and predilections; he hadn’t changed, still wearing the portions of armor that had made it through the venomous void. He cleaned it as best he could with a small portion of unmarred fabric, and went to hand it back to her, a thank you on his lips, but she was enamored with his companion, so he simply watched – tranquil, eyelids threatening to descend, close; guards and walls completely down, lost in the fold of amiability.

While there was starlight from the whale, Zuriel exuded the forest, the shadows of its dusk and the plains of its strength, dipping her head to touch her horn to a fin, a show of good faith and allegiance, matching formations from individual to individual, from love to love, from affection to affection.

Amalia maneuvered back into him, his arm intertwined over her shoulders, and a small smile traced over his mouth. “Her name was her own. I do not know the meaning.” But he could feel something snap over his mind, and his gaze flickered back over to her – power and conviction, boulders and stones, fell over his membrane. “Strength, a rock of faith, she says,” and his brow arched over to the equine but she’s already raised her head again, stare lingering on other things. The mare liked Jyo too, best represented in her warm nickers, and then naught more – an almost, teasing, imploring facet stuck to her face.

Even amongst the tremors of a gentler stead, of a few moments not weighted in gallows or haunting, poignant spaces, it managed to be scattered away in the blink of an eye. As Zuriel stood, eyes sharp and piercing; his own penetrating depths meandered back to Jigano, the keen outset of a mind already warped and tired, fatigued and exhausted, hearing condemnation in the slip of responses, in the foregoing tide of having to return. Kiada reacted, Amalia reacted, but he was close enough to hold her in place – suddenly aching to lunge; his body a statue, a monolith, a Colossus, keeping her away from the bard’s declarations. All he could scrape together was the overwhelmed, burdensome melancholy settling back down upon him again, letting the feral moments scatter by him, bone-tired and drained. “Why?”
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#22
Kiada, he suspected, was drunk, but he still winced away from her question. She was aware enough to know that what he was asking was incredibly dangerous, perhaps incredibly foolish.

Aware enough to know that Deimos had barely survived his first delve into that cursed, poisoned well of the Voice's prison and power.

Far worse than the Harpy's query was Amalia's distress, her anger and fear and the edge of hysteria in her voice. Jigano flinched physically from her words as if they were blows. Even Deimos' eyes were tired, weary beyond bearing of what was asked of him over and over again, and beneath that onslaught the bard finally faltered, raising his hands in defense. "No, no you're right. I was... I'm so tired, and then the alcohol... I'm sorry, Amalia. I didn't mean to upset you." He bowed his head contritely, feeling the weight of what still needed doing and knowing he couldn't ask it of the three gathered here. But maybe that was for the best. Kiada and Amalia, both young and scarred, though in different ways, did not need fresh hurts piled on top of previous ones. And Deimos, too had worries and concerns of his own. Many of which centered around Amalia these days, but she would not forgive the fox if he led her lover into danger, anymore than Deimos forgave him when the baker was put at risk following the bard.

He closed his eyes as Isuma peeped worriedly from Amalia's shoulder, rubbing her face soothingly against the baker's cheek to try and get her to calm down. "I... should go," he said quietly. "Rory will want to know what happened, and that we all survived." More or less. Some significantly less than more, though he did not think Safrin's fall would affect the Abandoned man as deeply as it had the more pious Attuned. Even so, he shivered inwardly to think of the exhaustion and silent hurt in Rory's eyes when he heard. Truly he had become a bird of ill omen, just like his winged shift. 'Everything changes' the farmer was fond of saying... but some things, it seemed, never really did.
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Hollowed Grounds Registrar

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 2 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 29 - Luck: 17 - Int:
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#23
KIADA

Her head turns toward Amalia as her voice echoes her own, and the Harpy watches – silent and drunk – as Amalia continues on and speaks of Safrin. Deimos is quick to watch and assess the situation and Kiada sits heavy in her seat, eyes flickering from the Reaper toward Jigano. It seems as though he realizes the mistake of mentioning it – but he doesn’t give out more information, and Kiada’s brows furrow together. He apologizes to Amalia and Kiada’s eyes flit toward the Leopardess briefly before returning to her pale haired friend.

Jigano then mentions that he should go and she huffs in response, an arm sluggishly reaching out to tug on Jigano’s sleeve should he let her. “We can talk about it in the morning, but don’t leave like that.” She says with another quiet huff. “Just makes things worse.” She adds a bit quickly, before hiccupping. Her icy gaze softens as she looks at Jigano with a soft smile of encouragement. He could stay for a bit longer, and if Rory was truly concerned he could come and find them. She didn’t worry about that. After all, they had all come for her when she’d been captured by the Fae for that lengthy amount of time.

A few hours were nothing.
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
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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Change author:
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#24

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON
IT ROSE TOO SOON
AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD


Deimos manages to hold her steady, and though tomorrow she will be grateful, today she is simply further irked. Shooting an indignant look at the man, she softens a little when he voices his weariness, his tone more worn than he has ever heard. Indignation immediately forgotten, the girl turns back into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his waist, her head resting gently on his shoulder, a silent apology in her eyes. They have all been through enough today. She does not need to add to the fire.

At least Jigano recants his words, though now the baker is curious, hungry to know what possible reason he had for wanting to return. She does not press, however, nodding her acknowledgement of the apology, too battered and broken to fight.

She reaches up to run gentle fingers through Isuma's fur as Jigano speaks again. Her teeth click together as he announces he will leave, irritation rising back up, her dark eyes glassy with exhaustion and alcohol. He had to be leaving because she snapped, and she can feel guilty fighting with anger, making her volatile and insecure. Go, then, she wants to snap. Run away and leave us. luckily Kiada speaks up, her measured tone a balm on Amalia's volatile temper.

"Stay a little longer. It's too late to go back to Rory's - stay you can all sleep here." space will be tight, and there is only one bed, but the Attuned will be fine, and Deimos can have the mattress. As though to punctuate her request Amalia yawns widely, turning her face back against Deimos' shoulder as she considers passing out right there.

a m a l i a
You said it's life that moves too much
We're losing touch
But I'm not losing you


Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#25
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
No information passed from Jigano’s lips, unordinary, but the exhaustion pulled and clambered, menacing and enticing in its own haggard regard. Why he wanted to go back into that poisonous stature was confusing and perplexing, but with naught to go off of, the Reaper couldn’t quantify any other response. The others seemed more imploring, yearning for him to stay after his statement had spiraled against better judgment; Deimos’ brows only lifted some degree, then furrowed back to their neutral stature. He was too tired to bother with Jigano’s maimed feelings, and ill-timed indignations. The notion of burying and burrowing himself into a hole seemed more enticing by the moment; he breathed, heavy and heady, as Amalia tucked herself back into him, as offers were made about sleeping, as everything arranged itself, just burdening on Jigano’s reply.

Just makes things worse, Kiada’s response pulled through him; because he supposed his silence was making things more awkward, more tumultuous, but lord he didn’t care about going back into that Spire, not after everything had unfolded and happened and he almost watched things crumble and die all over again; loss and loss and loss a sweeping overture and tone. All he did now was think about sinking into the floor, falling asleep and apart there, beneath familiar walls instead of stone ones with venom lacquered inside. He proffered nothing – no encouragement, no rejection, too far gone to care.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
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MP: 10170
#26
He smiled wanly at Kiada's excellent point, but Deimos gave nothing back, and his tired eyes didn't miss the tension in Amalia's jaw in spite of her hospitable words. The day had been long and full of pains both physical and spiritual. The emotional weight was immense, and they were all buckling under the strain. He had misjudged his moment and roused tempers, even if they were all too tired to maintain the anger.

"Then you have my apologies, little bird," he smiled at Kiada, leaning over to slip an arm around her shoulders, the alcohol easing the usual awkwardness as he offered a gentle half-hug to the Harpy. "But leave I must." He shook his head at Amalia, smile softening as he extended his arm for Isuma to glide over to. "It's never too late to go to Rory's, and I should have gone to him sooner. It's not fair to him to make him spend the night not knowing what's become of us."

And though the bakery was cozy, it was not his place,and he felt that keenly now. "Sleep well, friends," he said gently, stroking Isuma's head. He looked around a final time at those who had been so hurt, but selfishly seeking comfort for himself as he turned to slip out the door, stretching arms to wings and leading Isuma home.


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