how long will you scream at the walls
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
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#15
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The unknown was daunting and frustrating, and he kept floundering about in its depths, pushing at edges and fringes, with no frayed ends granting him answers, or even the slightest inclination, the merest clue. Rexanna was even intended to recruit, and he snorted. Do not bother with me he nearly proclaimed, lost in the muck of his frustrations, in the spiral of these ongoing dramatics, in the course of restriction and sedition. He couldn’t say anything to her though – not about this, not about that, not about anything pertaining to his anger, to his wrath – she’d been able to sense it long before anyway. It would’ve been a wasted breath. He drew back into a quiet, hushed reticence, nonchalant, the steel and iron forged across his brow, pondering, calculating, trying desperately to surmise something to get her out of this predicament – Helovia had been far easier, the politics not as convoluted and contrived, the battles far more concise and expected. These machinations were more polished endeavors, the Merciless’s way of stomping down upon those who might’ve been a threat - enlisting them into her own brigade, a means of force, ominous and foreboding. No one wanted their cherished individuals to suffer – so they relented, so they bowed their heads, so they played an entirely different game – one the Reaper had no interest in.

He wanted death. He wanted massacres. He wanted devastation; a palace in ruins.

Poor Remi though; he might’ve volunteered him for another job. “He does have a wedding to plan for,” the beast shrugged, yearning to take back the suggestion, the more he thought of it. He wished he were more capable, knew how to whittle incantations straight into the items and artifacts, that he could be of more use instead of lingering in the same circles and arches night after night, day after day. He clenched his jaw again, the only possible outlet of frustration besides the depths of his eyes, only tilting his head back to the flames, back to Rexanna, when she asked how he manifested objects. She wanted to try – and he shrugged; no harm, no foul, especially if she might’ve grown in the same way he had, gaining new abilities over time.

“Yes,” Deimos nodded, bringing his hands together, then peeling them apart. A golden glow maintained itself in the center – his concentration, his enchantments, reaching down into the pervading essence of power contorting through his veins. “I picture what I want to create in my head,” and then an outline began to form, stretching across the gilded framework, “and play it out.” A moment later, a smaller stiletto had appeared – long and thin, but perfect for keeping furtive and secret, hidden and locked away beneath sleeves or under garb. Imprinted on its tiny hilt and pommel were sketches of fire. Then he handed it to her.
Unite and spread the heart apart


Messages In This Thread
how long will you scream at the walls - by Deimos - 07-07-2019, 12:51 AM
RE: how long will you scream at the walls - by Deimos - 07-17-2019, 09:30 PM

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